Chapter 58
“Now, Candidate Estelle, please introduce yourself and tell us why you’re participating!”
“Hello, everyone. My name is Estelle, and I attend Pandora Academy. I’m here today because there’s someone I want to express my feelings to through this crop.”
Ah… why is it?
Why does Estelle look so fresh and radiant today?
Is it because she’s holding her hands together above her navel? Or is it because of that shy smile?
‘My heart feels so warm.’
I couldn’t contain the smile rising to my lips, so I covered my mouth with both hands.
Then it happened.
“Good heavens! Pandora Academy, you say? Quite impressive for someone so young! To think of confessing not with jewels but with crops… naive, perhaps? And to do it here, not at the Academy… is this the right place? Haha!”
The host had just doused Estelle’s fresh introduction with cold water.
‘Has he lost his mind?’
Everything had been going smoothly just moments ago, and now he ruins it all in an instant.
Who even let this man host?
I glared at the host, eyes sharp with disbelief and anger.
I wasn’t the only one upset.
The audience started murmuring as well. Some even suggested pulling the host off the stage immediately.
But the host seemed oblivious to the tension.
He even reached out to pat Estelle on the head with a chuckle.
‘Shouldn’t the organizers step in?’
No, whether I went to the organizers or stepped onto the stage myself, it would be quicker for me to act.
I put my hands on the armrests, ready to rise.
“Wrong place? Academy? How can I confess at the Academy? I came here to give thanks to someone like a parent who raised me.”
At that moment, Estelle’s curious voice echoed through the hall.
She clearly hadn’t understood a word of what the host was saying.
“Uh… uh…?”
“Ahem!”
Then came the nervous, awkward cough of a large man seated at the organizer’s table—Mr. Marcus.
“Oh… uh.”
The host reflexively glanced toward the organizers, finally realizing his mistake.
“Oh… I see. Haha. I must have been mistaken. Shall we then see the crops you’ve prepared?”
The host stammered, clearly trying to smooth over the situation, and rushed through the proceedings.
“Yes.”
Estelle smiled and stepped behind her cart.
Unlike previous participants, she didn’t seem to mind the sudden tension in the room.
She looked up at me, standing on stage, then smiled brightly as she grabbed the cloth covering her crops and threw it with all her strength.
The cloth that had draped the cart soared high into the air like a flag.
I watched, eyes sparkling.
What kind of crop had Estelle grown? What was on the cart?
A beautiful apple, just like Estelle herself?
A pear with various beneficial properties, as talented as she is?
Or perhaps a hardy crop, capable of thriving anywhere—just like Estelle, who excels wherever she goes.
‘I hope it’s a fruit that suits Estelle.’
It didn’t matter what the crop was, but seeing her holding a fruit and smiling would be the most adorable, after all.
I looked up at Estelle on stage with great anticipation.
“Hmm? This is…”
The cloth fluttered down slowly to the floor.
The host, leaning toward the cart, tilted his head in confusion.
“….”
The audience was equally stunned.
When they saw the crop on the cart, they were left speechless.
“This is…”
And it was understandable.
“A pumpkin?”
On the cart was a crop nobody expected—an old pumpkin.
‘Why a pumpkin?’
A huge, bright yellow, aged pumpkin.
Everyone seated here, including Reina… no, everyone except Claude, had the same thought:
This small, cute child surely brought a crop similar to herself.
But reality was completely opposite.
A large pumpkin, the opposite of her small frame; a dull yellow, opposite of her clear, bright pink hair; a rough, slightly dry rind, unlike her soft, supple skin.
The pumpkin was completely different from Estelle in every way.
Of course, these contrasting traits—just judging the pumpkin itself—were not unattractive.
But visually, when compared to other fruits, a pumpkin isn’t typically considered beautiful.
There’s the saying, “You can’t turn a pumpkin into a watermelon by just marking it,” or using “like a pumpkin” in a derogatory sense.
Ah… people were confused.
No matter how they looked at it, Estelle and the pumpkin were so different it seemed incompatible.
Everyone alternated their gaze between Estelle and the pumpkin, but no one spoke.
“Ah… an unexpected entry.”
The host broke the silence first.
“I wondered why she brought such a large cart, and now I understand. That pumpkin looks far too big and heavy for her small frame to carry.”
He circled the pumpkin, trying to lift it but quickly shook his head, fearing it might break the entry.
“Then, I must ask why you chose this particular crop. You mentioned wanting to express your feelings… why a pumpkin? Surely there are lighter, prettier options.”
The host asked Estelle, thinking a pumpkin might not be appropriate as a gift.
Some of the audience seemed to agree, nodding as they awaited her answer.
Estelle looked around at them with a gentle smile before speaking.
“I think everyone knows that every flower has a meaning. And pumpkin flowers have one too. Does anyone here know the meaning of a pumpkin flower?”
Estelle lovingly stroked the pumpkin atop the cart and looked to the audience.
“Pumpkin flowers? Pumpkins have flowers?”
“Of course! But be careful what you say in front of Marcus—he might get mad. But what does it mean?”
“The meaning… perhaps it’s about appearances, since it’s a flower?”
“But it doesn’t mean ugly, does it? And it’s meant as a gift…”
The audience murmured, trying to figure out the answer.
But no one raised a hand or spoke.
“I thought most of you wouldn’t know. After all, people usually care more about the fruit than the flower. I was the same until I happened to learn the meaning. But the moment I knew, I realized there was no other crop that could express my feelings as perfectly.”
As Estelle spoke, her small lips trembled with each word.
Her cheeks flushed red, eyes sparkling with emotion she could not contain.
She took a deep breath and clasped her hands over her chest, unable to hold back her racing heart.
What could the flower’s meaning be? What could make her so nervous?
Her every word, every movement drew the audience in.
They leaned forward, watching her lips, waiting for her to continue.
Hoping she would reveal the meaning of the pumpkin flower with those small lips.
“Tolerance, generosity, and a magnanimous love.”
Her quiet voice echoed through the hall.
Her trembling breath carried the emotions she couldn’t suppress, emanating from deep within her heart.
“I received all of this from one person. From the moment I first met them until now, continuously. And I’m certain… that from now on, that person will continue to give me all of this.”
