Chapter 9: Green Eyes

She would often come up with excuses to visit the duke’s office, desperate just to catch his gaze even once.

Once, when he looked especially tired from lack of sleep, Edelweiss brought him rooibos tea.

She had twisted her wrist while pouring it, burning her flushed left hand, but still carried the cup to him.

“Father, you looked tired, so I brought you some rooibos tea. Please drink it while you work.”

“Leave it and go.”

Untouched, the tea cooled completely and was eventually carried out in the butler’s hands.

Though disappointed, Edelweiss simply assumed the Duke disliked rooibos tea and tried to calm her heart.

But when Rosemary brought him the same tea, the Duke drank it on the spot and said it cleared his head.

That was when Edelweiss realized:

It wasn’t the rooibos tea he disliked.

It was her.

She could always feel the disgust in his eyes—eyes that were identical to her own.

She’d known it, vaguely.

Even so, she held onto hope every time.

They say parents are subconsciously more affectionate toward children who resemble them.

Edelweiss had inherited his green eyes—eyes neither Rosemary nor her brother possessed.

Surely, if she tried harder and became a better person, he’d eventually drink the tea while it was still warm and thank her for it.

That hope was what kept her going.

And yet, the rooibos tea she brought was always left to go cold.

From that day on, she hated looking in the mirror.

Even though their eye color was the same, the Duke of Stern still loved only Rosemary.

Edelweiss stared into the deep green eyes of the Duke.

“I used to wonder… if things would’ve been different had I shared the same violet eyes as my sister. That’s why, on the very last day of every year, I made the same wish. Please, let me wake up tomorrow with eyes the same color as hers.”

“…..”

“It was a hopeless, impossible wish—so my eyes remain green, just like yours. And what I used to merely dislike… now I truly despise.”

She now hated having the same green eyes as the Duke.

Even if she no longer considered him a father, those green eyes still declared her his daughter.

She thought it might be better to go blind—

At least then, she wouldn’t have to see that color in the mirror anymore.

“…Edelweiss. Why do you keep calling me ‘Duke’ since this morning? Have I ever told you not to call me Father?”

The Duke bit his lip and suddenly asked: why didn’t she call him Father anymore?

“Because now, I don’t expect anything—nothing at all—from you. If you’re about to scold me for being disrespectful—”

“…Edelweiss.”

“You never once came to see me when I was a child, always acting like you didn’t care whether I lived or died.”

“Why don’t you blame yourself for never teaching me anything? Maybe I’m like this because I had nothing to learn from you.”

The Duke frowned in confusion.

To him, who was still living in the past, it made no sense that someone who had been so polite just yesterday was suddenly like this.

But Edelweiss, who had already lived through the future, no longer wished for his love—

because she already knew how he would abandon her.

“Once I come of age, I’ll legally be allowed to marry under imperial law.”

“…Marriage?”

Soon, Damian’s proposal would arrive. They’d announce the marriage during her coming-of-age ceremony, then hold the wedding not long after.

“I’ll be able to leave this house. I won’t have to carry the name ‘Stern’ anymore. And you won’t need to prepare a dowry—I don’t want anything from you.”

The inheritance left by her late mother would be enough.

It wasn’t the Duke’s—it was entirely hers.

“Don’t tell me… are you acting like this now just because you awakened your Blossomweaver ability and think you have something to rely on?”

Was this really all she amounted to?

Edelweiss found it astonishing that she could still feel disappointed in the Duke.

“In case you didn’t know, that power shortens your life the more you use it. So don’t overuse it.”

“Are you worried? That people will gossip if your legitimate daughter dies young from overusing her powers?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I meant—”

“No need to worry. When I die, the name on my gravestone won’t be Edelweiss Stern.”

The Duke sighed in frustration and placed a hand to his chest.

“No disgrace will fall on House Stern. You won’t even have to attend the funeral. Please don’t come. I’ll make sure to include it in my will—that my future husband must never let you in. Unless you’d like the shame of being dragged out.”

She made a mental note to include that in her future prenuptial contract.

If she were to die due to her powers and a funeral were held, the Duke must never be informed—

must never be allowed to attend.

‘I wonder… when I fell from the balcony and died, did you grieve at all?’

No.

She didn’t even need to see it to know.

He wouldn’t have mourned. Not a single tear would’ve fallen.

He probably just felt relief that House Stern’s honor was intact, as Rosemary had said.

He wouldn’t have dared lift the cloth to look at her twisted body, her skull bleeding in the back.

Was there even a funeral?

In cases of s＊icide, the family would often quietly forgo a ceremony, citing impurity.

Even though it was Rosemary who caused her death, on the surface, it would’ve seemed like she took her own life after becoming infertile and getting dumped by her fiancé.

There was no way he would’ve held a funeral for her.

“Duke, please leave my room now. Shouldn’t you be checking on my crying sister?”

Edelweiss gestured faintly toward the door.

The Duke of Stern stood still for a long moment, then glanced at Edelweiss and left weakly.

As if she’d been waiting, Jane entered the room right after he left.

She was holding an ointment in her hand.

“Young Lady, it must hurt a lot. You don’t want it to scar… Let me put some ointment on it for you.”

Jane, don’t.

You’re really trying to act like you care, huh.

If Rosemary hadn’t told her, Edelweiss might never have realized Jane had betrayed her.

She stopped Jane as she reached out with the ointment.

“Young Lady?”

“I’ll do it. It stings—I’d rather apply it myself.”

“You’re still scared of this kind of thing, just like when you were little. But you have to put it on.”

“Jane. I’m tired. I’d like to be alone.”

“Yes, please call if you need anything.”

As soon as Jane left, Edelweiss threw the ointment on the table straight into the fireplace.

She pushed it deep into the flames so Jane wouldn’t notice, burning it completely to ash.

Then she pulled out another ointment from under her nightstand and applied it to her cheek.

It was the one her aunt, the Marquess of Blossomweaver, had sent her. She used it sparingly.

I should visit Aunt and ask her directly. She’ll surely know.

Since the thought crossed her mind anyway, she decided to go see the Marquess of Blossomweaver.

She wanted to understand why her powers had suddenly awakened.

Violet Blossomweaver.

The Duke of Stern’s biological sister, and once—like Edelweiss—the heir to House Stern.

When the previous Duke and Duchess divorced, she discarded the name “Stern” and went to live with her maternal family as a Blossomweaver.

In that process, she severed ties with the Duke.

Because of that, the last time Edelweiss had seen her was at her mother’s funeral.

Gripping the shoulder of her four-year-old niece who had just lost her mother, Violet said:

“Edelweiss. Keep your head on straight. Don’t cry.”

“A-Auntie… I miss Mama.”

“Even if you cry, don’t let anyone hear it. Don’t even show them how much you miss her. You must never show weakness.”

“……”

“I lived that way as the heir of Stern. And so must you.”

Because the Duke hated it when she interacted with the Marquess of Blossomweaver, Edelweiss had always been careful not to stay in contact.

Her aunt only reached out indirectly—sending birthday gifts, ointments, and such through other people.

Back then, I didn’t understand why Aunt said those things. I felt hurt.

But now she knew.

Once you reveal a weakness, they mock you for it.

Edelweiss took out a piece of stationery pressed with a single violet blossom—her aunt’s namesake—and picked up her quill.