Chapter 60: The Name of a Flower

Blossomweaver Marchioness’s death became known.

The Emperor proclaimed, “Since Blossomweaver’s rose has withered, the entire court shall fall silent,” and honored her accordingly.

In her will, the Marchioness stated she disliked extravagance and wanted a simple funeral.

Thus her ceremony ended quietly, with no formal condolences received.

However, the will itself needed to be notarized to avoid legal issues.

Collateral relatives also expressed a desire to inspect it.

By the time Edelweiss’s throat had healed enough to speak normally, she invited the collateral relatives to Blossomweaver House.

Inside the packed council room:

“…Therefore, I, Violet Blossomweaver, bequeath all my assets to my heir, Edelweiss Oberlin Blossomweaver.”

“……”

“Upon the public reading of this will, Edelweiss Oberlin Blossomweaver shall inherit the marquisate.”

The Marquis finished reading.

At that moment, a girl with crimson eyes slowly rose to her feet.

Edelweiss looked at her face: a strangely twisted smile, eyes glinting with greed.

“I am Ivana Céline, only daughter of Countess Céline, who is Edelweiss’s grandaunt.”

“……”

“Even if the will does not name me, as a blood relative I believe I have the right to claim part of the inheritance.”

Ivana Céline.

In the previous life, she was the one who seized all of Blossomweaver’s property.

A cousin to the Marchioness, she possessed the closest direct bloodline aside from Edelweiss.

The Céline Count and Countess had her unusually late in life, so she and Aunt Violet had a large age gap and scarcely met.

It was sly—how she pounced on the inheritance like she’d been waiting for the marchioness to die.

Edelweiss took a calm breath and raised her eyes, a thin arch forming in her brow.

“Countess Céline’s young lady. Did I permit you to speak my name?”

The moment her words dropped, even the air froze.

The collateral relatives turned their eyes toward Countess Céline’s daughter, who flinched in place.

“…Pardon?”

Her face flushed red as blood rushed to her cheeks. Her lips opened and closed several times.

“The will clearly states I become the Marchioness of Blossomweaver upon its reading. Yet here you are, a mere collateral, casually calling my name. I find that unpleasant.”

The young lady of Céline forced a smirk.

“Fine, that was my mistake. I’ll be careful.”

It became apparent the other relatives had quietly hoped for a share of the inheritance too, whispering among themselves.

They were likely waiting for the right moment to make similar claims.

Edelweiss realized she needed to resolve this matter here and now, including Countess Céline’s daughter.

“…Of course, the will doesn’t mention me, so I won’t demand much. But—”

Edelweiss lifted a hand, gently interrupting her.

Her name—Ivana—floated to mind again.

A name that had nothing to do with flowers.

“You don’t even have the right to make a claim.”

“…Surely one doesn’t need to bloom a blue rose to be called a Blossomweaver. My mother, Countess Céline, was once a daughter of the house.”

Ivana tried to divert the focus to lineage.

“Ivana Céline, daughter of Countess Céline—

It’s true my mother named me ‘Edelweiss’ so I’d overcome any hardship. But…”

Edelweiss recalled what the Marchioness once told her:

‘Blossomweaver heirs traditionally take names from flowers. Even if you don’t awaken your ability, I wanted you to have that right. That’s why Iris and I agreed to name you Edelweiss.’

‘Then why is Mother named Iris? She was the daughter of Count Redian, wasn’t she?’

‘The Redian were clever. They used their daughter to build ties with Blossomweaver and aimed to push her into the Duchess of Stern’s seat.’

It was precisely because of her name—Iris—that Edelweiss’s mother, despite being from a different noble family, could eventually become Duchess of Stern.

By following Blossomweaver’s naming tradition, she had secured that connection.

‘Even Serena Widen naming her daughter ‘Rosemary’ was likely a calculated move to assert her Blossomweaver maternal bloodline.’

Though Rosemary’s actual father, Count Sandor, had no relation to Blossomweaver—what a laughable contradiction.

“I may not have carried on the Blossomweaver name, but I am still family. Isn’t your attitude a bit much?”

Ivana stood tall and squared her shoulders.

“And by generational order, I am technically your elder. You’re being quite rude.”

She smirked slightly, seemingly misinterpreting Edelweiss’s calm expression as mockery.

Edelweiss answered quietly.

“If you didn’t take a flower’s name, per Blossomweaver tradition, how can you be entitled to its inheritance?”

Only then did Ivana realize why Edelweiss had brought up her name.

She kept opening her mouth but found no solid argument.

“The moment Countess Céline named you ‘Ivana,’ she relinquished any claim to Blossomweaver. So kindly withdraw your baseless and legally invalid claim.”

Most of the collaterals gathered here had not followed the naming custom either—unaware of the tradition, they lacked any floral name.

“Let me be clear—my decision not to pursue consequences for what happened today is the greatest courtesy I can extend to someone who, by lineage, is technically my elder.”

If Ivana pushed further, she’d be seen as nothing but rude and arrogant.

“…I’m not feeling well. I’ll take my leave.”

Face flushed and body trembling, Ivana turned and left.

Those who had watched the whole scene now approached Edelweiss.

Their voices, stripped of greed, had suddenly grown warm and courteous.

Edelweiss didn’t respond, and the murmuring gradually died down.

Some avoided her gaze, others nervously fiddled with the gloves in their hands.

“Thank you all for coming today.”

At her single remark, the posture of the collateral relatives shifted.

Words of praise and sympathy quickly followed.

“You must be heartbroken, Marchioness. Please don’t let Countess Céline’s daughter trouble you too much.”

“She went too far. It wasn’t even written in the will, and she ignored Blossomweaver tradition—how greedy, clinging to such a distant bloodline.”

“By the way, when do you plan to hold the succession ceremony?”

There was no time to hold such a ceremony right now.

Receiving the treasure vault’s key at her coming-of-age had already solidified Edelweiss’s status.

Whether or not the succession ceremony was held, her position was unshakable.

“There are no plans for now. His Majesty the Emperor has declared that the entire court is to remain in silence.”

After seeing off the departing relatives, Edelweiss made her way to the annex.

Behind it were the graves of the previous heads of the Blossomweaver family, including the late Marchioness.

Her grave was surrounded by violets.

Violet Blossomweaver, rests here.

Edelweiss stood in front of the gravestone.

“…Aunt, did I do well?”

“……”

No answer came, no matter how long she waited.

“Aunt!”

Edelweiss, did you sneak out alone again? You know that’s dangerous, don’t you?

But… Mother never holds me. I think she hates me. I’m lonely. No one plays with me. Even my brother is too busy with the academy.

Iris is just frail, that’s all. It doesn’t mean she hates you. Come here, sit on my lap.

A memory from long ago—sitting on her lap.

The warmth of a hand gently stroking her hair returned faintly.

Edelweiss recalled the old days, and at last, she let her go.

This time, she was able to send her off without being too late.