Chapter 6.3

As Sylvester watched the elated Marianne, he conjured another flower. This time, he placed it behind his own ear, mimicking what he had done for her.

Sylvester with a flower behind his ear—it would’ve shocked the mages of the Knight Order to the point of disbelief. Yet, there was no sense of awkwardness about him. If anything, it looked as though a flower had adorned another flower.

“I don’t think the male lead wore a flower, but… this isn’t the stage, after all.”

Sylvester’s confident expression met Marianne’s gaze. A playful smirk tugged at his lips.

“You look amazing. I can’t tell which one is the flower.” 

Marianne said sincerely.

“I’m glad that my face is beautiful.”

“…But what if someone sees us?”

“I have to boast. The person I like said I’m like a flower.”

The man, who looked as beautiful as a flower, spoke while offering his arm to the person he liked. Then, he added another sentence.

“Shall we go?”

“…Yes, let’s go.”

Marianne replied as she linked arms with Sylvester. The white rose in her dark brown hair glowed even brighter under the moonlight. The two began walking forward, and the breeze, carrying the scent of flowers, leisurely followed behind them.

The Empire’s means of transportation included horses, carriages, and sturdy legs. Most nobles used private carriages, while commoners either hailed inexpensive carriages waiting on the streets or relied on their own two feet. However, Sylvester had never once arrived at Marianne’s house in a carriage. 

Whenever their time together came to an end, as if by unspoken agreement, Sylvester would offer to call a carriage for her. Yet, Marianne always responded that she preferred to walk a little longer, saying her house was nearby. Instead of replying, Sylvester would simply nod.

After this routine exchange, the two would hold hands tightly and walk for quite a while—a stretch of time that would have passed in an instant if they had taken a carriage.

But tonight, Marianne didn’t wait for Sylvester to ask. Nor did she take the initiative to ask herself.

“I’d like to walk with you to my house, Sylvester.”

Still linked arm-in-arm with him, Marianne spoke with an honest smile. And so, the two walked together from the park to Marianne’s house—a journey of about thirty minutes. 

It was a time when only the sound of their footsteps, their breathing, and the quiet presence of the night accompanied their silence. It was also a time of rediscovering that they could communicate and find happiness without exchanging a single word.

Marianne’s house was located in a narrow alley, above a small clothing shop. It was a cramped space, just big enough for one person to live in. Over the past two weeks, Sylvester had accompanied Marianne home several times and had seen the shop’s door open and close. He had heard her footsteps ascending the stairs and had watched the light turn on in the second-floor window shortly after.

Marianne had never allowed Sylvester into her space, and Sylvester, understanding her cautious nature, had never made any demands. He had never even dreamed of stepping foot into her home.

For someone like Sylvester, who had spent long days and nights walking her home without even a carriage, Marianne felt she should at least offer him tea once. However… though she knew it was the polite thing to do, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She felt embarrassed about her small, dark, and old room. She also feared that letting him in might lead her to give him everything.

But as she thought about how everything would vanish like smoke after just one more night, she found the courage to do something she had never dared before.

“Sylvester.”

Marianne spoke, her warm breath dissipating into the cold darkness. She continued hesitantly.

“…Would you like to have a cup of tea?”

Sylvester didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stared at Marianne for a long time.

“Do you not feel like it?”

“No, I was just wondering… if I might be dreaming right now.”

Sylvester replied, his face filled with disbelief.

“It’s not a dream.”

Marianne smiled awkwardly.

“I enjoy drinking tea. And when I do it with you, Marianne, the joy doubles.”

Sylvester, clearly nervous, mirrored her awkward smile.

“Then… shall we go?”

Marianne, now just as nervous, quickly turned around. She walked toward the green wooden door on the right side of the clothing shop, its paint partially peeled. Beyond that door lay the stairs leading to Marianne’s second-floor residence.

Opening the door, Marianne ascended the stairs. With each step, the creaking sound of the old wood was drowned out by the frantic beating of her heart. The darkness that filled the space didn’t seem as intimidating as it usually did.

When the narrow staircase—barely wide enough for Sylvester—came to an end, they arrived at Marianne’s space. The faint scent of Seluvia, the ancient flower Sylvester had conjured, lingered throughout the small home.

“Just a moment!”

Marianne quickly stepped inside and turned on the light. As the room brightened, Sylvester cautiously entered. Watching him step into her world made Marianne feel a little shy. Her home was small, old, and cold, but it was her only sanctuary.

“You’re the first guest… other than my landlord… to come to this house.”

Marianne spoke with a hint of embarrassment. While others might have scolded her for being so unsociable, she felt that Sylvester, at least, would understand her. However, before she could finish her sentence, Sylvester dropped the coat he had been holding. His hands had gone slack from shock, and his face turned pale.

“Then… that means I’m practically your first guest, doesn’t it?”

“…I suppose so.”

“I’ve never heard anything so overwhelming in my life.”

“…Pardon?”

Hearing Sylvester’s words, Marianne burst into laughter.

‘The Sylvester who’s supposed to be so scary and unlucky… could he actually be from another continent, not the Empire?’

Sylvester was strange. Some days, he seemed incredibly dashing and mature, while on others, he appeared utterly innocent. Right now, the peculiar man standing before her seemed so endearing. She found him lovable. She liked him very, very much.

“Please, have a seat here. I’ll prepare some tea.”

Marianne led Sylvester to a small space she used as both a living room and a study. In the center of the room was a coffee table that doubled as a desk, flanked by two chairs.

Soon, the sound of boiling water echoed loudly through the house.

“When I’m with you, Marianne… even the sound of boiling water feels like music.”

Sylvester spoke as he sat upright in the old wooden chair. A faint smile graced his lips.

“When you’re here, Sylvester… it feels like you make any place look elegant.”

Marianne responded honestly, mirroring his smile. But as soon as she finished speaking, she felt shy and avoided his gaze. Sylvester seemed to feel the same way.

The sound of boiling water came to a stop. Marianne placed a teapot and teacups filled with tea leaves on the table and sat across from Sylvester.

For a long while, the two drank tea in silence. But the lack of words didn’t feel uncomfortable or awkward. Instead, a tender quietness enveloped them, more meaningful than a hundred spoken words.

Marianne’s gaze shifted slowly to the window, which framed the night outside. Moonlight poured in through the wide window, filling the small room.

“This house is so modest that it’s a bit embarrassing… but I wanted to show it to you at least once. This space holds everything about me.”

“…….”

“Well, I mean… I just wanted you to know me better….”

Marianne trailed off, her words tumbling out awkwardly.

“It’s a beautiful home.”

Sylvester finally broke the silence.

“It’s a home that resembles you, Marianne.”

“…Is that a compliment?”

Marianne smiled shyly.

“You always carry the scent of letters, Marianne. The kind of scent you notice when you open a book or turn its pages.”

“…….”

“This house has that same warm, inviting scent, as if it holds a wonderful story within. That’s why I like it.”

“…I wonder what that scent is like.”

Marianne, her cheeks slightly flushed, spoke.  

“That scent makes me want to hold you close for a very long time. It also makes me want to stay by your side for a very long time. Even if it weren’t for that scent, I would still stay by your side.”  

Sylvester met Marianne’s gaze. With eyes filled with love, he declared that he would remain by her side for a very long time.  

For a moment, Marianne’s eyes welled with tears. No one had ever said such words to her before. To her only family, Marianne was nothing more than a means to earn a small sum through a marriage deal. To her peers, she was like a weed growing carelessly by the stream—or perhaps even less than that. Even in the capital, where she had fled her home in an attempt to escape, Marianne was alone. She had believed she would always be alone.  

And now, Sylvester was telling her that he would stay with her.