‘Would I be pleased to see the daughter-in-law who devoured my poor child set foot in a pit crawling with other men? My insides are not just cold but frozen solid. But Radilt, you’re not a frivolous and base woman who looks at new men after your husband’s departure.’

Slapping her cheek then comforting her. Her mother-in-law’s voice remained consistently cold.

‘You won’t mingle with other men there, so what do you find uncomfortable? Just attend for exactly three months. I hear that widows like you with little income and property receive not only preparation funds but also sponsorship money.’

The cost of renting a dress and accessories for the party. Travel expenses were provided as basics.

‘If we receive three months’ worth in advance, it will be more than enough for Rite’s dress down payment. The rest can be paid off gradually with portions of the sponsorship money from each party.’

She had nothing more to say against the thoroughly calculated proposal that even mentioned her dead husband. Following her mother-in-law’s instructions, she gave away all the money she received, and wearing an old dress with worn-out shoes, walking for half a day, Radilt entered the Plumen Party venue.

A brightly shining chandelier. Violin melodies coming from somewhere. The slowly blinking green eyes filled with the sight of men and women in formal attire and dresses.

‘……Ah.’

It was a different world separated by just one wall, one door. It was a splendid scene enough to momentarily forget the weight of life pressing down on her shoulders.

Radilt stared at it blankly, then slowly moved her steps as if being pulled along. To a quiet, secluded corner. Leaning her back against the wall, she watched the people coming and going.

‘……It’s not as bad as I thought.’

All those people were irrelevant to her anyway. She just needed to maintain her presence, barely noticeable, and then leave repeatedly. Thinking of herself as a mere spectator made her feel much more comfortable.

‘Perhaps because it’s spring, there are many bright-colored dresses.’

Gentle fragrances mixed between the fluttering skirt hems that swayed like flowers and butterflies. Radilt unconsciously twitched her nose.

‘Planana, rose, orange, pink merwool, hmm, Senia moss?’

A fresh green scent reminiscent of dew-covered sprouts. Despite being a difficult material to capture in perfume, it was skillfully infused.

In the midst of the ripened spring scent floating along with the band’s melody, Radilt lowered her eyes, recalling the perfume workshop she had cultivated with her husband. A young man who came to her rural hometown in search of new fragrance materials. The feelings built up while they walked together along mountains, fields, and streams.

There was a time when she believed that happiness, those moments of shyly holding hands together, would last forever. But now, like a broken perfume bottle, only the fragrance remained, and even that was gradually fading and becoming blurred.

“Pleased to meet you, madam.”

A middle-aged man approached Radilt, who was immersed in old memories. Though his words were friendly, Radilt shook her head in embarrassment. The man soon left as she avoided his gaze and made gestures of refusal.

But perhaps because she was a new face, several other men continued to approach her afterward. Radilt rejected them all and moved to an even more secluded corner as if escaping.

“My, this makes sending the invitation pointless.”

Just then, an elderly lady walked over, lightly clicking her tongue. It was Lady Iolet Rizan, the host of the party.

“A young lady standing alone in such a remote place.”

“Hello, Lady Rizan.”

Radilt quickly greeted her. Iolet examined Radilt’s attire while lightly tapping the corner of her mouth with her folded fan.

An old dress and shoes that had long gone out of fashion, as if taken out from the depths of a closet.

“I don’t like women who are tied to their in-laws.”

“……Pardon?”

“Though the Plumen Party has changed from the past and I hear not-so-good stories, I still think it’s necessary. Because there are still ladies who cannot come out alone, whether by their own will or forced by others.”

“No, I……”

“That’s why I receive sponsorship money and pass it on to all of you. Even if there are nasty rats gnawing at your wallet at home.”

Lady Rizan winked one eye.

“The sponsorship money has served its purpose just by having a young lady come here and have new encounters.”

“But, the money you gave……”

“It’s alright. It’s a common occurrence. Just don’t reject the gentlemen too much. Of course, I’m absolutely not saying you should accept just anyone. I hope you’ll be more active in making eye contact, engaging in conversation, and if you find someone compatible, extend your hand and match your steps.”

“……Yes, madam.”

Though Iolet spoke comfortably and cheerfully, Radilt felt uneasy with guilt for having spent the sponsorship money elsewhere. She had no intention of remarrying at all, but she thought she shouldn’t continue rejecting the men who approached her.

‘I’ll try to have a longer conversation with the next man who speaks to me.’

She didn’t dare leave her corner. But she decided that if someone approached her first, she would try to socialize.

Radilt took a deep breath. Fortunately, everyone had been kind, so having a conversation should be fine.

‘The weather these days or the season or the weather or……’

What on earth should she talk about? Now that she wanted to interact with strangers, it also felt daunting.

Years after losing her husband, her world had become extremely small. After the funeral that was like a storm, she had been solely focused on maintaining her livelihood without meeting new people.

Naturally, she was ignorant of recent news, trends, and topics of conversation.

‘……I don’t even know how I’ve lived since Lushen left.’

A tiresome daily routine that never changed, like a squirrel running in a wheel.

Radilt’s gaze slanted downward toward her feet. The memories and life of the past few years were covered in thick fog, just hazily blurred.

What was I like before? What was I like when I was young? The past and present, all dimly gray and dull.

Radilt raised her eyes to look at the unfamiliar, splendid, colorful people. A faint, hollow laugh escaped her.

What am I even doing here?

With the renewed feeling of being an uninvited guest, Radilt’s gaze was about to fall weakly again when suddenly it became fixed on one spot.

‘Did our eyes just…….’

Meet? With that person?

Though the distance was quite far, he was a noticeably tall man.

Tall height with a dignified physique to match. The evening attire that smoothly wrapped his nearly perfect body looked extremely luxurious even to untrained eyes. The stiff collar buttoned all the way up, calm black hair, and blue-gray eyes carrying weight gave an ascetic impression, but in all other aspects, the mature charm of a young man overflowed.

In other words, he didn’t seem to fit with the widow support gathering.

Since the women attending were those who had lost their husbands, most of the men who set foot here were also either widowed or divorced. Compared to lively youth-centered gatherings like the garden, the atmosphere here tended to be more mature and quiet with an older age group.

But such a splendid and young handsome man who would be welcomed at any banquet.

‘Did he come just to provide support?’

The Plumen Party certainly had pure sponsors too. They were usually wealthy elderly people, but being young didn’t prevent one from providing support.

A noble young wealthy man who found joy in helping others from an early age. Beautiful appearance befitting that excellent heart. Could he be such a man who seemed to have stepped out of a fairy tale? Radilt stared at him blankly as if observing something from another world.

They were in the same space—far enough apart yet still close enough for their eyes to meet. But Radilt felt a vast, invisible wall fall between them. He’s someone who could never be connected to a poor widow bound to her in-laws. Because he seemed so impossibly distant.

“……Ah.”

Her sense of reality didn’t return even until the man stood right in front of her. Radilt looked up at the man’s blue-gray eyes with her dreamy, hazy green ones. She felt like she was facing a sculpture or painting rather than a human being. Right after that.

“You look shabby.”

The cold whisper mercilessly dragged Radilt back to reality.

She flinched back as if doused with ice water, her back hitting the hard wall. The appraising gaze fell upon her rigid body, trapped with nowhere to go.

“Perhaps like a scrub tree embracing old leaves, barely clinging to life under a patch of shade in a drought.”

Faded hair, roughened skin, thin body in an old dress.

Radilt felt the belated humiliation but couldn’t say anything. Because she was indeed shabby as he said. Because she was merely a tired, dried-up woman who didn’t know where she came from or where she was going.

The best she could do was bite her lips firmly shut and erase any expression from her pale face, preserving what little dignity she had left.

“Dear lady.”

The corners of the man’s lips rose slightly at Radilt’s silent reaction.

“I am Pendlore Duston. I lead a few modest businesses and hold an insignificant title.”