The Flower Dances and the Wind Sings

However, for Harsen to simply postpone the meeting and leave… That’s a bit odd.

Ercella listed the events in order. First, because of Harsen, Count Pantetz returned home early which caused him to discover his daughter’s affair. That changed who became Vicente’s fiancée. This means that the past does not change randomly.

‘It’s like…’

Just as she was invited to Mrs. Lydia’s tea party, just as Countess Zardea confided in her about her daughter— all that would not have happened if Ercella had not loved Vicente.

Had Ercella behaved like before, the ladies at Lydia’s tea party would not have been able to ask her about Vicente, and Countess Zardea would not have asked her to help her child.

Her change alters and connects a series of events. It was a small change, but the assumption of ‘what if’ came to mind.

What if she does not die— that kind of assumption. What if there was no war and she does not die and lives long enough to see Vicente turn into an adult, get married, and become a father.

‘I’d be really glad if that were to happen.’

Even though she knew she was being unduly greedy to wish for that, her heart was still pounding.

“Anyway, I feel for Lady Pantetz. So, when are you planning to meet Lady Garten? She must be waiting for you and your son by now.”

“I heard that Duke Garten hasn’t returned from the palace yet. I’m thinking of meeting them when the Duke arrives.”

“Why not now?”

“We aren’t close, so I feel awkward being with her alone. I also want Vicente to build a rapport with people.”

“Oh, I see.” Caron swiped his chin as if he understood.

The orchestra played a new song. It was a minuet— a more lively melody than the original song with variations tailored to the Granian style, not the usual tune.

Caron’s eyes bent playfully. He held out his arm to Ercella.

“How about joining me for a dance?”

Ercella stared vacantly at his outstretched palm. When was the last time she danced with Caron? He even made the first move. When they were young, he would play so hard to get that she would have to ask him for a dance at least 10 times before he’d finally agree. As she stared at him strangely, Caron asked in a ticked off manner, “Don’t tell me you’re turning me down?”

He seemed hurt. Ercella smirked, “Just this song.”

Caron was amazed by Ercella’s generous hand.

“Did you forget how much you used to tease me?”

Apparently, he was annoyed that the positions were reversed.

“You didn’t even dance that well.”

Ercella took offense to his words, “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“You, seriously!”

“Do you know how upset I was at the time? I could only dance with my brother, but he’s always too busy to see me. And when you visited, you had to study, read, practice swordsmanship and archery. Now that I think about it, you were trying really hard to avoid me, weren’t you?”

Caron shrugged his shoulders.

“You pestered me so much.”

“You danced well with Sister.”

“Sister was busier than you were and she never pestered me.”

That was true, so Ercella had nothing to say.

“Come on, dance with me.”

“Let’s.”

As Caron pulled Ercella along, the hem of her dress swept across the floor like feathers. Even though it was her first dance after a year, her body was familiarly following the song.

“During your debutante, did you dance a minuet?” asked Caron.

“It was a waltz.”

“Really?”

“No? Was it a minuet? To be honest, I don’t remember. Except for when I stepped on the prince’s foot.”

At her father’s introduction, she danced with the prince, but was very nervous and accidentally stepped on the prince’s foot. Even though it was her debutante, she could not remember anything other than how intense and heart-pounding that moment was.

“Oh, right,” Caron nodded as if he remembered it. Ercella spun around.

“Do you remember when you begged to marry the prince?”

For a moment, she missed the beat and nearly sprained her foot. Caron wound his arm around Ercella’s waist. “Careful, Sister.”

Clearly, she would have stumbled if it were not for him, but gratitude flew over Ercella’s head. The absurdity of his question took precedence.

“That’s such an old story.”

“Were you about fourteen then?”

Ercella was dumbfounded.

“It was ages ago. And you’ve got it all wrong. Don’t you remember that I gave up on marrying the prince as soon as I saw him? He was so different from the prince I had imagined that I changed my mind then.”

“How was he different?”

“I had expected a friendly prince with blond hair, but he was an unfriendly prince with red hair instead.”

Caron grinned. It seemed funny that the reason her interest in the prince cooled down was because of fairytales and a fluke of imagery.

Ercella caught him smiling. He’ll never know what a romantic idea a prince is to us girls. The older she got and the more she understood the reality, the more her fantasies waned, but a prince was still a prince.

Prince! She envied Eshahilde because just saying the word felt so sweet. And because her older sister who married the prince looked just like a princess.

It was a time when Ercella recalled herself being happy, ‘There was a time when I was innocent too.’

“Do you wish to be saved then?”

“What do you mean?”

“He may not be a prince, but what about a friendly, blond nobleman?”

She doubted her ears for a moment. “…Are you kidding me?”

“Why, I’m just saying I’ll get you your ideal type.”

Or are you crazy?

But Caron seemed too serious to be crazy. Seeing this, Ercella was shocked even more.

“Did you forget that I’m a married woman? And even if you did—”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Did he know that in her eyes he seemed insane?

At the sight of her looking at a madman, much to his chagrin, Caron added, “I can do that whenever you want, now.”

“Stop spouting nonsense.”

Ercella was appalled and resolutely turned him down. You shouldn’t say that, even as a joke!

“How is it now?”

“What?”

“Your marriage.”

“…”

“Are you satisfied?”

A strange sense of déjá vu hit her.

‘Don’t you regret marrying him?’

She had heard similar questions before. Yet, obviously, it was a pointless question.

Such a question was rude to someone who was already married, and there were not many noblewomen who would admit to being unsatisfied in order to keep face.

Yet, neither her father, mother or sister, had ever asked her that question. Her marriage to Harsen was strictly contractual. Solely for each other’s gain.

Whatever her father promised Bernhardt, Ercella did not think that Harsen wanted her only to decline the princess’s proposal.

Out of curiosity, when she asked the previous Marquis about their deal, he only smiled, saying, ‘You have nothing to worry about.’

“Of course.”

In any case, Visaride achieved everything they wanted. But was that really the answer Caron wanted?

She had a feeling that he was asking for something more essential. Perhaps, whether she was happy with him…? But, why would he ask that? I don’t think that’s important.

“Harsen is a good man.”

Above all, he was good enough for her. And as a wife, she respected and loved him.

“Not many people have as strong a sense of responsibility as him. He’s not irresponsible or negligent of his work by passing it off to others. He fulfills his duties till the end. Even if it’s not right, even if it’s hard, he does it anyway. That’s how he…”

Her throat felt itchy.

“I was also his responsibility.”

“Ercella.” Caron seemed to be angry.

“Brother, you know well too. If someone other than Harsen was my husband, I would have been abandoned. He’s not exactly a warm person, objectively speaking, but to me…that’s just how he is. He’s been very considerate of me. He cherishes me. If there is a new flower I like, within a few days, that flower is in full bloom in our garden. He doesn’t ask me anything. But he understands. He understands and fulfills my desires. And above all, there’s no one…else for him but me.”

“…”

“…Don’t you think he’s a good person, too? You know well just how many mistresses Duke Garten had— Uh, erm, I mean…”

Caron watched Ercella with strange eyes. The smile on his face faded and only an image of a teenage girl appeared in front of his eyes.

“I, I mean…” She parted her lips, left them hanging, then pulled and bit the lower lip. She repeated that like someone who hesitates to say something. Eventually, Ercella’s lips completely articulated, “I like him.”

And Caron…

“Brother?”

“Oh, you do.”

He laughed. Like a man who heard a very interesting story. Ercella thought he was making fun of her again, but there was no mischief in his laughter.

“Yes, I suppose that’s right.”

He shook his head again as though trying to awaken himself. In Ercella’s eyes, it seemed unnatural.

“…What? You always say things in a way I don’t understand.”

“I’m glad you’re not quick-witted.”

At the same time, the music stopped. As the thinned final note disappeared, Ercella’s foot also stopped. Caron was no longer moving, either. The two pairs of eyes met for a long time.

And he laughed again.

* * *

Treating the noisy people around him properly, sending them away, getting along with them, and doing away with them, Vicente suddenly made eye contact with Racellion from a distance.

“Long time no see, brother.”

“…Hello.”

“Have you been well?”

“Yes.”

Even though they had only met once, Racellion’s attitude was very friendly.

“I didn’t expect to see you here. I’m glad I tagged along with Father.”

“Is the Marchioness here, too?”

“Mother is with Rowena and her friend at Gladiam.”

Vicente was relieved to hear that the Young Lady of Visaride was not here. The nearby table alone was full of snacks and drinks.

If Rowena had come, it would have been a reenactment of the tea party at the marquisate. Noticing Vicente’s expression relaxing, Racellion gave a sympathetic look.

“Did you come with Aunt only?”

“Yes.” He replied casually, and suddenly remembered Adora and he added, “Lady Zardea, as well.”

“Oh, I heard about her. Aunt took the Count’s daughter as her lady-in-waiting, right?”

Racellion glanced at Adora, “But does she need my help? She looks in a bind.”

As he turned his head, Vicente saw a girl seemingly flustered. I thought she was like that when she came to my room. Vicente turned her eyes away from Adora.

“She’ll be fine on her own.” His voice was cold and heartless. Racellion looked at Adora, who was surrounded by people, as she repeated the same words, like a machine, ‘Yes, yes,’ ‘Oh, is that so?’ and ‘That’s right!’

‘I don’t think she’d be fine on her own.’

She seemed to be trying to do her best, but apparently, she was not talkative by nature. That, or she was not good at dealing with people her age.

However, his interference would look suspicious, so Racellion easily gave up on his sympathy for Lady Zardea. He turned to Vicente again.

“Brother, I heard you got engaged to Lady Garten, is that true?”

When Vicente moved his chin in affirmation, the boy’s green eyes, which resembled his maternal uncle, folded smoothly. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

Vicente felt a little fed up. How many times has it been? The constant congratulations from everyone made Vicente imagine that it was almost a greeting of some sort.

Vicente’s dull response went over Racellion’s simple mind. “You don’t seem very happy.”

“Do I have a reason to be happy?”

“Have you met your fiancée?”

“Not yet.” In fact, he had met Lady Garten once at a jewelry store he went to with Ercella in the capital, but he deliberately said so because he did not want to be bothered by the attention that would follow it.

“I greeted her briefly earlier, and she’s pretty.”

Vicente was silent. He lost track of what answer Racellion would expect. When he did not answer, Racellion asked, wondering, “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“How so?”

“It would be nice if my wife was pretty. That’s what all my friends say.”

Although his eyes resembling emerald color were green, Vicente felt for a moment that Racellion resembled the Marchioness and not Marquis Visaride. Speechless, Vicente spoke to the face resembling the Marquis’s, “Leave it.”

He forcefully ended the conversation as he was not interested in what Lady Garten was like, nor he did not want to talk to Racellion about her. Understanding Vicente’s intention, Racellion did not mention Lady Garten again.

Around that time, the music stopped, and another melody began to fill the gap. Racellion spoke, “I suppose they’ll dance.”

As he said, his mother and maternal uncle were holding hands. Vicente realized that the siblings looked very similar.

“Oh, my!”

With such gorgeous people together, it was impossible not to attract attention. A faint voice reached Vicente’s ear.

“…tty”

“…I know. Duchess Bernhardt is still the same as ever.”

“Don’t say. She used to be prettier in the past.”

“Together they look like a painting. They’re always easy on the eyes.”

They may be whispering to each other, but it was loud enough to be heard if one concentrated enough. Racellion was pleased and whispered to Vicente, “Father seems to be having a good time. I haven’t seen him smile like that in a long time.”

It was not just the Marquis, Ercella was smiling, too. Vicente watched his mother. As she twirled, the hem of her rich skirt bloomed in the air and fell to the floor.

A noisy, crowded and chaotic place where small cheers, gentle applause, and whispers all harmonized. Ercella was in the midst of it all, the brightest, the most beautiful.

His eyes winced from the glint of light falling on him. He closed them. Then he saw Ercella again. Seeing her lively face, curiosity arose in him. What are you talking about, what are you enjoying so much, why do you like dancing, why are you so pre—

“Aunt is as beautiful as ever.”

The brief but elevated admiration halted Vicente’s thoughts. He forgot what he was thinking. And it somehow gave him a sense of relief. Racellion looked back at him.

“Don’t you think so?”

Vicente was annoyed by his anticipating/expecting gaze. The cold-hearted Vicente replied curtly, “Doesn’t matter to me. I haven’t really thought about that.”

“But you were smiling…”

A pause.

“I thought you were smiling because Aunt was pretty. If not…then why did you smile? Did something good happen?” Racellion looked unabashed asking that.

Vicente slowly wiped his lips. It was slight, but the corner of his lips was raised. Upon realizing it, he said in an even more irritated voice, “I was just thinking about something else.”

Sighing, Racellion could not ask anymore and sealed his lips together.

* * *

Caron checked the time. “I’ve got to go now.”

“Already?”

“I’ve seen you, that’s enough.”

Perhaps he really just wanted to meet Ercella, since Caron seemed to have no intention of showing any leftover courtesy to the Duke after he arrived.

“Then let’s go to the kids.”

Ercella was baffled but did not object. She could not ask her brother to meet Duke Garten with her own mouth.

As she reached where Vicente and Lacellion were, she heard words such as ‘Hecuss’s Theory of War’ and ‘Pelovis’s Book’.

“Were you talking?”

Noticing Ercella and Caron, Racellion greeted them gracefully with informal manners, “Yes, Aunt. We finally met again after the tea party. How have you been?”

“Of course, Racellion! How have you been?”

“I’m doing well thanks to the precious people taking care of me.”

Ercella welcomed his rather gentlemanly reply with a happy smile. Then she saw Vicente. “Here you are!”

Is it just me or that he doesn’t look good? Ercella was puzzled by his sullen face. She was curious about what happened, but swallowed the words, fearing she might make another mistake like when she called him frail.

“Let’s go now,” Caron said, placing his hand heavily on Racellion’s shoulder.

“Already?” Racellion asked back in surprise. The banquet was barely into its second part, so he could not understand why they were leaving already.

“Yes. But if you want to stay longer, you can. I’ll send you another carriage.”

“N-no. I’ll go, Father. But I…” With a crawling voice, Racellion watched Caron’s expression. “Can I leave after greeting Lady Heritt?”

Looking at Racellion’s blushing cheeks, Ercella felt troubled.

‘I didn’t know he fancied Lady Heritt…’

In the future, Racellion was engaged to Marquis Lapaine’s daughter. There was never a clash between Visaride and Lapaine, so if nothing went wrong, they might eventually get married.

“I’ll wait for you, so do it quickly.” After a brief sigh, Caron granted permission coolly.

“I’ll be right back!”

Ercella watched Racellion’s striding pace, then looked at Caron.

Caron was looking at Racellion’s young love with a bit of annoyance. Though he would hardly cause trouble, Racellion was fourteen years old now, and there was little chance that his feelings would remain the same as he grew up. I’m sure my brother is leaving it for now.

The woman his son wants to marry won’t even be considered. And the same goes for Vicente.

“Then I’ll take my leave. I’m sorry, but I’ll see you later.”

“Have a safe trip, Uncle.”

“Okay. Well, Sister, I must say goodbye now.” Caron’s platinum blonde hair swayed finely as he bowed with an elegant movement.

“I’ll see you later.”

“I look forward to our meeting.”

The man, who had never been less noble since birth, walked away without making a sound. Ercella watched him leave, then turned to Vicente, “Sorry. Was I away for too long?”

“It’s okay, I’m not a child. You don’t need to worry.”

“That’s right, you’ve always done well on your own, so I’m not worried. I trust you.”

Ercella’s soft voice chilled Vicente’s blue eyes. Ercella did not know what was wrong but realized she should not ask this time, so she just smiled instead.

“Don’t smile.”

“…Huh?”

Ercella was momentarily taken aback by his sudden demand.

Now, you hate me even smiling? She was a bit upset, but she still lowered the corners of her lips slightly. Nevertheless, Vicente’s sullen look did not resolve.

* * *

With his back to the light, a man in a gray robe walked down the stairs. His platinum blond hair, which glistened with light, was dyed in darkness.

The man turned halfway from his spot and looked at the exterior of the building that he had walked out of. His vivid green eyes lit up dimly as though they were submerged in an abyss.

“I didn’t expect things to turn out like this.”

A shy, unaware smile glimmered in his eyes. There were faint cracks all over Caron’s face, as if somewhat troubled.

“Am I unlucky? Or…”

“…”

“Is the Duke lucky?”

The voice filled with remorse dispersed into the air. He gazed at the pillar carved out of white marble, then turned his back to the light and walked on as if nothing had happened.

* * *