“……May I ask why?”

“My instincts tell me so. I cannot speak for others — but you, at least, are someone I need not keep at a distance.”

Aiden turned his head and looked toward the party, from which laughter drifted over. For someone who claimed a personal acquaintance with Isabella, the stiffness around him seemed strangely at odds with that — and Delia’s expression turned puzzled. As though he had sensed what she was thinking, Aiden shrugged as if it were nothing and extended his hand.

“It is overdue, but allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Aiden Day Elvern Pessionne — First Prince of the Pessionne Empire.”

Delia looked at his hand. Unlike Kallius’s, it bore calluses only on the index finger — the finger that held a pen. By any measure, it was the slight, careful hand of someone who spent his days in matters of governance.

After a brief hesitation, Delia stepped forward and extended her own. She shook his hand with a gentle up-and-down motion and answered carefully.

“I am Delia Hildebrant. I serve as the mistress of the Hildebrant ducal household.”

“I am very glad to have met someone like you.”

She had expected him to be sharp-edged and difficult — and yet here he was, immediately warm and open. Delia’s eyes went wide. This was a manner she had never encountered before, and it left her flustered — and yet, at the same time, something in her chest would not quite settle.

“I think……I’m glad I came to the party today.”

The exchange with Evelyn had left her feeling low — but the thought that she had, by some chance, built a connection with Aiden was something she could hardly believe. Aiden seemed to feel the same way; he looked at their joined hands and smiled — a gentle, unhurried smile.

“Let us speak again another time. It seems that the Blake family — your brother’s household — along with others in the Noble Faction, has been beset by a string of troubling incidents of late.”

“So the First Prince is aware of it as well.”

“It would be impossible not to be.”

Even though the murders were occurring within the empire, she had assumed that Aiden — who supported the Emperor — would have no interest in the Noble Faction killings. The unexpected response left her blinking in silence, and Aiden smiled once more and added:

“Even if it concerns the Noble Faction, I cannot turn a blind eye to what takes place within the empire.”

Unlike the Second Prince, Aiden was someone who paid close attention to everything happening within the empire — and the realization left her genuinely taken aback. The more she spoke with him, the more strongly the thought settled in her mind that he truly, sincerely cared about the state of the empire.

“Oh, I’m afraid I must be on my way. If I am absent from the palace much longer, things will become somewhat complicated.”

Aiden gave her a light nudge on the back and told her to hurry back to the Duke. In that moment Delia let her guard down, just briefly, and dipped her head in farewell — telling him she hoped to see him again.

* * *

The party was over, and they were on the road back to the Hildebrant manor. Not a word passed between them inside the carriage.

Under ordinary circumstances, Delia would have been the one to start a conversation — but perhaps because of the unexpected encounter earlier, her mind felt as though it had reached its limit. She was lost in thought, watching the scenery pass by in a blur, when Kallius — who had been watching her with a mildly puzzled look — spoke first.

“Did something happen while you were away?”

“……Pardon?”

Startled by the sudden question, Delia lifted her head. He did not appear pleased with her reaction, crossing his arms and furrowing his brow. She was well aware that she was not herself today — and she gave him a small, quiet apology. Kallius’s expression did not shift in the slightest as he responded, a trace of dry humor in his voice.

“You look as though you’ve been off meeting someone behind my back.”

“What? What are you saying? I would never do that!”

The response was more vehement than usual, and Kallius’s expression stilled. He lifted himself away from the backrest and leaned forward toward her.

“Why so worked up? Were you actually talking to another man?”

“No, that’s not it……”

It was true that she had been speaking with another man. But that man was the First Prince of the empire, and it had been nothing more than a brief exchange of under five minutes. She had not anticipated being accused of anything on account of something so small.

Delia carefully rose from her seat and moved to sit beside Kallius. She gently took hold of his rough hand and offered him the same quiet smile she always wore.

“There is no need to worry. You are the only one I hold in my heart.”

At her sincere confession, Kallius’s eyes went wide for just a moment. He looked down at their joined hands in silence, then let out a short, helpless sigh.

“That was only a joke. There is no need to take it so seriously.”

“……Did I do something unnecessary?”

Delia looked down at her hand, now with nowhere to go, and her expression fell. She bit lightly at her lip, then quietly returned to her seat as though nothing had happened.

“Even so — please trust me. You are all I see.”

“You are devoted to an almost peculiar degree. And yet the person in question gives you nothing in return.”

“It does not matter if I receive nothing. This is something I do entirely because I wish to.”

Even if Kallius turned her away, she believed that ceaseless effort and whispered love would one day bear light. And above all else — the proof of that love was already growing inside her.

The day before Delia’s birthday, a letter arrived from the Salchester earldom, accompanied by an elaborate bouquet.

Delia looked quietly at the letter the head butler presented to her, then tore the envelope open on the spot — without even reaching for a paper knife.

[To the Duchess of Hildebrant.

Good day, Duchess. It has been some time since the dowager’s birthday party. The weather has grown quite warm — I do hope you are taking care of your health.

The reason I write is that I have heard your birthday is coming up soon. By the time this letter reaches you, it may be the day itself — or perhaps just a little before.

It may not amount to much as a gift, but I offer this modest bouquet as a token. They are purple lobelias from the greenhouse of our estate — the moment I laid eyes on the petals, they reminded me of your eyes. I do hope they are to your liking.

Until we meet again — please take care of yourself, and the child you are carrying, until that day.]

Delia looked down at the bouquet in her hands. The three lower petals fanning outward and the two small upright ones above them were undeniably beautiful — and the faint, fresh scent of green that drifted from them called summer to mind.

But Delia, who knew the true meaning of the lobelia, could not ease her expression.

The lobelia’s language was one of malice, distrust, resentment, and severance — a flower notoriously known in social circles as something sent to someone one wished to cut down. And so the head butler, who had delivered Evelyn’s bouquet, stood at a loss, cold sweat breaking out on his brow.

“My lady — shall I take the bouquet to be incinerated?”

“……”

Delia fell into thought for a long moment. She could hardly burn flowers that had arrived under the name of the Salchester house — but displaying them in her room would be nothing short of madness. She turned the lobelia petals over between her fingers, deliberating briefly, then handed the bouquet back to the head butler.

“Store it in a corner of the storeroom. And keep it from Lady Salchester’s knowledge.”

Perhaps it was because Evelyn’s pressure had grown more pointed than ever before — but Delia’s heart was beating fast.

She handed the bouquet to the head butler and made a dash for the bathroom. The head butler’s cry of “My lady!” followed behind her, but that was the least of her concerns. Delia brought up everything she had barely managed to eat that morning, and then crumpled weakly to the floor.

A few days later, her birthday arrived.

From all sides came congratulations, along with an abundance of gifts tucked inside handwritten letters.

Unlike the year before, the presents were piled high as a mountain — and Delia regarded them with a hollow smile. The very nobles who had pointed fingers at her, calling her the child who had gotten her parents killed, had done a complete about-face the moment she was carrying Kallius’s child. She found it repulsive.

Delia looked up at the mountain of gifts — little more than elaborate rubbish — and turned to Sara, who was hovering anxiously nearby, and spoke in a weary voice.

“Send most of the gifts to the orphanage.”

“Pardon? But these are gifts people prepared for you, my lady……”

“To others they may appear as gifts. To me they are nothing more than expensive refuse. So please send them to those who actually need them — not to me.”

Sara thought it over briefly at Delia’s words, then gave a nod. She called in the attendants waiting outside, and the gifts filling the room were cleared away in no time at all.

Delia exhaled a breath of relief at the tidied room. She looked around at the space — restored to its ordinary self — and settled comfortably onto the sofa. Then she waited, and waited, for the man who had not shown his face in days.

“……Still — on my birthday, I had wanted to see him.”