Episode 9 –
“I’m truly sorry, my lady.”
Not long after Benjamin left, Rorey entered with Jules and bowed her head as she approached Sophia’s side.
“What were you doing?”
“I fell asleep while choosing a book for you in the library. To make matters worse, the door—being quite worn—shut itself and locked me inside. No one could come wake me up, apparently.”
Rorey offered a well-crafted lie and bowed once more.
“I apologize for not being the first to notice your condition.”
Her face and voice carried sincere emotion, and Sophia’s trust in Rorey made the lie believable.
If Sophia hadn’t gone to the archive the next day in her previous life—or if the servant in charge of the archive hadn’t slipped up and said the door had never been faulty—she probably would’ve fallen for it even now.
Rorey never said she was sick. Sophia knew it was because she didn’t want to worry others, so she decided to let it go this time too.
“Don’t work yourself to the point your body can’t take it.”
What she meant was not to push herself to the point of collapsing. But Rorey would probably interpret it as not working so hard that she missed sleep.
Sure enough, Rorey smiled faintly and gently brushed Sophia’s messy hair back into place.
“You shouldn’t stay up at night either, my lady. The doctor said your collapse was due to accumulated fatigue.”
Collapsed from exhaustion?
Sophia couldn’t believe it. She remembered exactly how it felt when she collapsed.
Her heart had pounded violently, sharp pain spread through her, her fingers went numb like they were paralyzed, she could barely breathe—and then she blacked out.
That couldn’t just be from being tired.
But what made even less sense was the idea that she had collapsed from an illness.
She had lived through many lives, and nothing like this had ever happened before. She didn’t suffer from any chronic conditions either.
Something’s not right.
Was she really just exhausted from overworking?
“Rorey, who was the physician who examined me when I collapsed?”
“Oh, that would be Physician Serita. She prescribed Rofom—I’ll hurry and bring it right away.”
“Alright. Jules, go help her.”
She sent Jules out with Rorey to be alone and think things over.
Once the two left, Sophia tried to recall everything she knew about Serita.
She was the personal physician of the Roberti family—a bright woman with exceptional skills. She had entered the household as a favor to Bled.
Bled’s person.
‘I do not use my skills to deceive others.’
‘My lady, you’ve been poisoned with Solita.’
When Joshua and Benjamin poisoned Sophia, they didn’t want to be blamed for her death.
So they pressured Serita into saying she had died of an illness. But Serita had stood firm in her conviction.
That was how she died—because of her integrity.
Even when faced with death, Serita never lied about someone’s medical condition. That kind of person wouldn’t lie.
Which meant Rorey might have lied—out of concern for Sophia.
“…I need to see Serita.”
This time, Sophia needed to meet Serita face-to-face and find out the truth.
Because this life wasn’t following the same timeline she used to know.
To calm her troubled heart, Sophia picked up the flower crown resting on her nightstand.
The crown fit into her small hand, the blossoms still fresh and pretty. She gently flicked a bud with her index finger a few times.
Then, tightening her grip, she crushed it in her hand. The flowers were fragile and crumbled easily.
“…This isn’t the one Rune gave me.”
Rune was good with his hands. The crown he made had been beautiful—too beautiful for a child to have made.
But this one was different. The flowers weren’t the same.
So where was the original? Why had someone switched it?
Someone had replaced the crown. But why?
“Maybe the original one broke.”
It was possible that it got damaged when she collapsed and hit the ground. Benjamin or Joshua probably hadn’t seen her fall directly.
Most likely, Jules had taken care of it. Maybe he replaced it so Sophia wouldn’t feel sad if she saw it ruined.
Or perhaps for another reason entirely.
Sophia set the crown down and touched her chest, trying to recall the moment she collapsed.
But now, it felt like a dream—like none of it had happened. She was fine.
Was it really just exhaustion?
No. It couldn’t be.
She remembered again those cool violet eyes that felt far too close.
…Edmund’s eyes should’ve been fresh and green, like new spring leaves.
So that had to be someone else.
Rorey, ever thoughtful, didn’t just bring medicine—she brought a full meal to ease Sophia’s hunger.
Because she’d lost consciousness in the morning and only woke up in the evening, Sophia had missed all her meals that day. The meal was more than welcome.
Sophia liked to tear her bread into small pieces, soak them completely in her soup, and then eat the softened pieces together.
So the first thing she always did was tear the bread.
“I’ll do it, so please open your presents, my lady.”
But this time, Rorey took care of that for her. Though it wasn’t her actual birthday yet, the mood felt like it.
Not that the gifts would be a surprise—Sophia already knew what they were.
Still, for Rorey’s sake, who looked more excited than she did, Sophia began untying the ribbons carefully.
The largest box revealed a stuffed bear too big to hold in one arm.
“Isn’t it cute?”
“Yeah.”
That was the gift Rorey had prepared.
Sophia pressed the plush bear’s paws. The texture wasn’t bad, so she poked it a few more times.
Was Rorey treating her like a little child or just appropriately for her age? She wasn’t sure anymore—she’d lost track of how people viewed age long ago.
But she could tell Rorey saw her as a child.
She glanced briefly at Rorey, trying to gauge her expression—and realized exactly what she was hoping for.
“Thank you.”
With a soft word of thanks, she hugged the stuffed bear tightly.
Rorey’s face lit up with joy.
Is it really that nice? Sophia glanced at a nearby mirror but didn’t see anything worth smiling about. She just looked a little childish.
But if it made Rorey that happy, maybe it was fine.
Still hugging the bear, she moved on to the next gift.
Rorey casually remarked that it was something the Lord had prepared. Sophia nodded along. She knew what would come next—something about rare tea leaves.
“Oh my, these are dried Deporte leaves. Quite rare.”
“Wow, really? I wonder what they taste like.”
Matching Rorey’s pretend act that this gift was from the Lord, Sophia responded with her own performance.
Even when she opened her mouth in amazement and said “wow,” her expression stayed neutral—but Rorey didn’t find it strange.
Sophia had always been a child with little change in expression.
And Rorey, seeing how Sophia did her best to show joy within her limits, gave a satisfied smile and placed the now-softened soup and bread in front of her.
“I’ll brew it for you tomorrow.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Why don’t we stop with the presents now and eat? Everything’s ready.”
“Thank you.”
Gripping the spoon properly, Sophia began to eat.
The scent of flowers lingered in the drawing room. The sweet fragrance, almost enough to enchant, was the symbol of the blue rose and the Lord of Pawip—Edmund.
Sitting comfortably on a red velvet sofa, the Lord pushed back the hood of his robe that had covered his face.
His long black hair, contrasting starkly with the pure white robe, fell loosely around his shoulders. He smoothed his slightly messy hair with his hand and smiled gently with green eyes.
“It’s been a while, Bled.”
No one else fit the phrase “so gentle he wouldn’t hurt a flower” more than him. He smiled sweetly.
“You look frightening. Aren’t we friends? Can’t I visit without notice?”
“…”
“You’re welcome to visit Pawip anytime too.”
A personality softer than silk, a smile so generous it felt foolish—everything about him was unmistakably his old friend.
After staring at Edmund for a long while, Bled gave a slight nod and turned his head away.
Because he felt it wasn’t worth greeting him.
