Chapter 10.
The next morning, Hera woke up feeling refreshed.
It had been a long time since she’d started the day without pain—and the lightness in her body made her smile involuntarily.
“Sister, I brought your breakfast.”
Just as she was about to get out of bed, the door opened and in came Cecilia.
She was accompanied by two servants, each carrying what looked like trays of breakfast.
“Even though your memory hasn’t fully returned, you still wake up right on time, don’t you?”
Cecilia gently guided Hera to sit back on the bed.
Her voice danced like musical notes playing a joyful melody—she seemed rather elated.
It appeared that finding traces of Emilia in Hera was something that delighted her.
Hera briefly felt guilty, but she realized the only thing she could do right now was to play along with Cecilia.
“Here you go. I prepared your favorite breakfast.”
With a bright smile, Cecilia had the servants place two trays, decorated with ornate gold patterns, in front of them.
A savory aroma drifted through the air, matching the coziness of the fluffy bed.
“This is the croissant I like best, and this is your absolute favorite—”
Cecilia placed a fresh croissant and slices of raw ham on her own plate, and then affectionately prepared Hera’s plate as well.
“Cucumber sandwich!”
“……”
In front of Hera sat pale bread with a very vivid green peeking between the slices.
‘So Emilia liked things like this…’
Her hand hesitated. Still, she couldn’t ignore Cecilia’s sincerity.
Just as Hera gathered the resolve to take a bite of the cucumber sandwich, a savior arrived.
“Having breakfast alone together?”
It was Julian, the eldest son of Baron Tolin.
He approached the bed with a faint smile.
He casually sat down next to Cecilia and—very naturally—took a big bite of Hera’s sandwich.
The ease of his movement suggested that this wasn’t the first time Julian had stolen Emilia’s breakfast like this.
“Brother, she’s still recovering, you know? Be gentle.”
“Her complexion is this good and her eyes look just as bright as before. Cecilia, does Emilia still look sick to you?”
Though his words sounded affectionate, Hera felt as though Julian’s gaze was interrogating her.
His eyes were too dark to be called blue, and they stared directly into hers.
It didn’t feel like he was suspecting her exactly—it was more like this behavior was natural to him.
“What I mean is, someone needs to be by her side. But Brother, why are you wearing your uniform today?”
At their conversation, Hera’s eyes naturally followed to Julian’s clothes.
Now that she thought about it, the dark navy coat with a diagonal red sash didn’t look like everyday attire.
“Dark colors really do suit you, Brother.”
“Doesn’t sound like a compliment.”
The gold epaulet on his shoulder made his features appear even sharper.
As Cecilia had said—there was nothing else to add. The look suited him well.
So much so that Hera found herself absentmindedly staring.
“You look great, Julian.”
She meant it as a compliment—but she had just made a mistake.
Having never had any older siblings, Hera was unfamiliar with how to address them.
Instead of calling him “Brother,” she had simply used his name.
Realizing her slip, her eyes widened.
But Julian and Cecilia simply looked at each other and smiled brightly.
“Emilia, my sister. Looks like your memory is returning. You really did lack manners like that from time to time.”
Was it just a lucky coincidence? Or did her lips and voice remember how Emilia used to act?
Hera found herself caught in a swirl of complicated emotions.
“So why are you wearing your uniform, Brother?”
Cecilia asked.
“It’s because of Blue Rose.”
Julian replied and pulled a delicate petal from his coat pocket.
“Oh my, it’s definitely a rose petal—but the color…”
“Yes. It’s a blue rose.”
“I’ve never heard of a blue rose existing. Right, Sister?”
Hera wasn’t nearly as surprised as Cecilia.
Because she had already seen that petal.
It was the one that had fallen from the prophecy book.
“There was a theft at the Duke Antony’s estate yesterday. And the thief left behind this petal.”
“Couldn’t it have blown in by accident? Why would a thief leave a clue?”
“That’s what makes Blue Rose so bold.”
Julian’s eyes grew sharp.
“This thief has been active all over Central these past few years. And each time, they left this petal behind. Almost like a signature. At first, everyone thought like you, Cecilia—that it was just a coincidence. But coincidences don’t keep repeating.”
“Is your city guard taking on this case then?”
“Yeah. The Minister of Internal Affairs gave me a special order. As of today, I’m in charge. We don’t have solid clues yet, so we’re just getting started.”
“Seems like a petty thief. Is it really that hard to catch them?”
Cecilia didn’t look convinced.
Julian smirked and bumped Hera’s shoulder with his own.
“She just called Blue Rose a petty thief. What do you think, Emilia?”
“…Huh?”
Hera froze like a statue.
For a moment, panic swept over her—was Julian aware of her true identity?
“It was Emilia who told us this thief wasn’t a mere petty one, you know.”
“Sister did?”
“Yeah. She’s the one who gave the thief the nickname ‘Blue Rose.’”
What kind of person was Emilia, really?
That wasn’t something just anyone could do. Giving a nickname to someone who could arrest you?
“Emilia once said: If you want to catch Blue Rose, you’ll need to study her for a very long time. That’s why I didn’t chase after her recklessly. I studied her.”
Because of the tension, Hera’s throat felt parched.
Maybe Emilia had enough skill or confidence to act so boldly—but Hera wasn’t like that.
She’d only stolen the Black Tear of Banyol by sheer beginner’s luck.
And there had even been a witness—Marriott Laurent. It hadn’t even been a perfect theft.
“How far have you gotten with your research?”
The unease slipped out in her voice.
Julian shrugged.
“Who knows. There’s no pattern to what’s being stolen. They aren’t even fencing the goods. The only trace left behind is this blue rose petal.”
Hera felt a small wave of relief inside.
But that peace didn’t last long.
“Still, I do know one thing: Blue Rose is a woman.”
Julian smiled kindly—without knowing how much those words pierced Hera.
“A woman around your age, Emilia.”
Her fingertips turned pale. Even though he hadn’t exposed her, Hera was so tense it felt like her breath would stop.
Had the servant not entered with news at that exact moment, her expression might’ve given her away.
“Master Julian. A letter from the Baron.”
The servant handed Julian a letter from Baron Tolin.
Julian read it and furrowed his brow.
“What a strange order.”
“What did Father say?”
“He wants us to visit the Wintail Count’s estate this afternoon.”
“Huh? The Wintail estate?”
While Julian and Cecilia exchanged puzzled looks, Hera’s heart plummeted.
“Didn’t their only daughter pass away recently? We didn’t even attend the funeral. Why now…?”
“You know how he is—he just gives orders with no explanation. The only thing he said was to attend the memorial service.”
Julian let out a short sigh and stood up.
Then he gave Cecilia a mild warning.
“Change into something more subdued. The Wintail household isn’t like your average noble family. They don’t tolerate even the smallest mistake. Your charm won’t work there.”
“I know. I’m not a child anymore. Stop nagging.”
Hera couldn’t hear a word of their conversation anymore.
Her head was spinning with what she should say when she met her parents again.
***
“The Wintail estate is really grand. It has such a sense of dignity.”
When Hera arrived at the estate with Julian and Cecilia, what surprised her most was realizing that this was her first time actually seeing the place she had always called home.
Just as Cecilia had said, the estate wasn’t only massive, but the aura it gave off was overwhelming.
The Tolin estate was built in a modern, stylish way, and had its own charm—but it couldn’t compare to the Count’s imposing grandeur.
As they stepped into the very familiar Wintail garden, Hera saw a crowd had already gathered.
“Lady Cecilia.”
“Oh! Marchioness Orentia.”
As the most popular figure in high society, Cecilia was quickly surrounded by people.
“I didn’t expect anyone from the Tolins to come. I heard today’s memorial was only for those who attended the Count’s daughter’s funeral. Did any of your family members attend that day?”
The Marchioness’s words were pointed.
It was clear she didn’t think the Tolin children had any right to be here—and wasn’t shy about expressing her displeasure.
