CHAPTER 31
Mary tugged anxiously at Luisa’s hat as they walked.
“Why the sudden urge, ma’am? You always complain about being bothered…”
“Because I told you to move a little,” Luisa replied calmly.
“No, you only said it would be nice to walk a bit in good weather!”
“Well, today’s perfect. And Mother used to tend that spot herself. If she could do it, so can I.”
Her words were simple, but Mary misunderstood, thinking Luisa was reminiscing about their late mother. Luisa tapped Mary’s arm gently in reassurance and headed toward the garden alone.
Staff glanced furtively as she passed. Used to her prickly nature, they initially feared her on day one. But seeing her walk calmly today, their defensive demeanor had softened into curious acceptance.
Reaching a secluded corner of the garden, Luisa knelt and started pulling up long weeds around an old wooden bench—a spot clearly avoided by others. She retrieved the sacred flower (“Shinseonghwa”) from her picnic bag and placed it carefully in the freshly prepared soil. The pristine white bloom looked almost surreal amid the wild grass.
She sprinkled a bit of water from the little can she brought and whispered softly as droplets glistened in the sunlight:
“Don’t die.”
In the morning, the Duke was away and the chapel team, including Captain Raphael, had departed early. That left Damian and Luisa at breakfast.
“Monster hunt?” she asked.
“Yes. They’re handling it, and I’m going along.” Damian replied.
“But is it okay for everyone to leave? Shouldn’t someone stay behind?”
“It’s not too dangerous, and the Holy Knights are with me. Father approved.”
Realizing she’d be alone, Luisa apologized unexpectedly.
“Why’s that necessary?” Damian asked gently.
“It might get lonely… if only we could go out together sometimes,” she admitted.
Damian’s face softened. “We’ll go together next time. We still have plenty of time.”
Though uncomfortable in his presence, she appreciated his good intentions.
Back in her room, Luisa retrieved her wine label designs—she had been procrastinating final adjustments for her new rosé wine. With the designs nearly complete, she paused creatively.
“How should I attach these labels? Old leather tags are messy, but paste doesn’t stick.”
She looked around and remembered fabric adhesives used in armor-like dresses from her wardrobe. It gave her an idea: use clothing-grade adhesive to bind the labels. Energized, she wrote a letter to the Countess Dallio—a socialite with influence—to propose help sourcing such adhesive in exchange for sending a bottle of her wine as a gift.
Soon after, she had mailed off one bottle to the Countess and another update to her supplier, Albert Rosé. Feeling accomplished, she collapsed on the bed.
Then chaos erupted: sounds of horses and shouting stirred her awake. She rubbed her eyes as darkness filled the room, lit only by a flickering fireplace.
She tried to settle back in and sleep, but noises outside pulled her toward the window. Draped in a thick robe, Luisa stood and looked out, alert. Whatever was happening—she knew she needed to find out.
