Chapter 52
“Then, was it the fruit skewer?”
“No.”
“The yarn doll we bought on the street?”
“Not that either.”
Plita shook her head with a bright smile. Roze frowned at her continued denials.
What could it be?
She mentally retraced everything they’d seen at the festival—things Plita had found fascinating or delicious. She remembered the snacks the child had liked, the toys she’d begged for, the dolls she clung to.
“Nope.”
But none of those were the answer. In the end, Roze raised her hands in surrender.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know.”
“Geez… how could you not know?”
Plita pouted, then pulled Roze down by the neck and whispered in her ear.
“It was when you became my ‘mom’ earlier! That was it.”
“…!”
Roze’s lips trembled. It was a moment earlier when the merchant selling puppies had mistaken her, Heivan, and Plita as a family. A silly misunderstanding, something they’d laughed off. Nothing more.
“You didn’t like it, Roze?”
But for Plita, it clearly hadn’t been nothing. That moment had meant everything to her. The best part of the entire festival.
Roze looked at the girl, who was now watching her intently, and lifted the corners of her mouth into a smile.
“Why wouldn’t I like it? …I loved it.”
“So you didn’t hate it?”
“No.”
“Whew, good. Um… but can you keep it a secret from my real mom?”
Plita hesitated, then looked up at Roze and asked. Roze blinked at the request.
“Keep it a secret?”
“Yeah. I mean… honestly, I’m okay with it. I actually really liked it… But like you said, my real mom might be sad if she knew.”
Plita clamped her mouth shut. A child who so dearly wanted to call someone “mom,” yet had no one to call that. Roze’s heart ached.
She gently pulled Plita into a hug. Soon after, the girl yawned.
“You really need to go to bed now.”
“Mm, okay. I have to play with Hayang, Roze, and Dad tomorrow…”
Plita dozed off mid-sentence. She’d spent all day at the festival—it was no surprise she was exhausted.
Roze carefully laid her down in bed and rose quietly. She could hear Plita’s soft breathing.
She stepped out of the bedroom, careful not to make a sound.
Just as she was about to return to the guest quarters, she saw a light ahead. Wondering if it was one of the Count’s servants, Roze froze. Then, a soft voice came from the direction of the light.
“Roze?”
“…Ah, Your Grace.”
It was Heivan. He must have come to check on Plita. Roze quickly approached him. He held a small lamp in his hand, with no attendant accompanying him.
“I’m sorry, but the young lady just fell asleep.”
“I’m late. I had some documents to finish, so I stayed behind.”
Heivan chuckled lightly. Roze noticed the redness in his eyes. He’d likely been working late to catch up on what he couldn’t finish due to the festival earlier. After all, his visit here was originally for an inspection, not leisure.
“Would you like some tea?”
She spoke before she could stop herself—moved by how tired he looked, and somehow feeling grateful.
“…Tea?”
Heivan rubbed his eyes and looked at her in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected the offer. Roze flushed.
“Y-You just look a little tired…”
“…”
Heivan said nothing and simply looked at her. Embarrassed by his unwavering gaze, Roze quickly shook her head.
“No, forget I said that. I’ll just go—”
“It’s more disappointing to be offered something and then not get it.”
“…Sorry?”
“Let’s go to my room. I was just thinking I could use some tea.”
He spoke like it was nothing, turned, and walked off.
Roze stared at his back for a moment before hurriedly following him.
Thankfully, the Count’s estate had a selection of herbal teas known for their restorative properties. Roze brewed one and handed it to Heivan.
“Here you are, Your Grace.”
“Thank you.”
He took a sip and nodded. Seeing the tension ease from his features, Roze relaxed a little and smiled.
“Then, I’ll take my leave.”
She brought her hands together and bowed politely. But just as she turned to leave, Heivan set his teacup down and raised his hand to stop her.
“Stay and drink with me.”
“…Excuse me?”
“You look tired too. Why don’t you have a cup before going?”
“N-No, Your Grace. I couldn’t possibly…”
Startled, Roze shook her head in protest. But Heivan paid her no mind. He placed a new cup across from his seat, poured tea from the pot, and slid it toward her.
“It’s not ‘how dare you,’ it’s just ‘a cup of tea.’ No need to be so formal.”
He gestured at the cup. At a loss, Roze awkwardly sat across from him and lifted the teacup with both hands, sipping quietly.
The tea had a gentle aroma. Just inhaling it seemed to soothe her fatigue. Her nerves slowly eased, and her heart felt lighter.
Without realizing it, her expression softened. She glanced around the room.
Heivan’s guest chamber was tastefully luxurious—clearly prepared with care. No doubt arranged specially by the Count, given the prestige of hosting a duke.
But…
Stacks of documents scattered throughout the room caught her eye. Even here, he was buried in work. Even after a full day out, he hadn’t been able to rest.
She felt a pang of sympathy.
Then suddenly—
Pop! Pop!
A string of explosions rang out from outside.
“…!”
Startled, Roze set down her teacup and jumped to her feet. Heivan waved a hand.
“It’s nothing. Probably just fireworks—”
But before he could finish, Roze had already hurried to the window with a tense expression.
“…Oh?”
Bright fireworks bloomed across the sky, fading beautifully before being replaced by new ones.
“Oh, fireworks!”
So that’s what Heivan had meant.
Then Roze suddenly thought of Plita and turned to rush out—only to bump into a firm chest. Heivan had come up behind her.
Startled, she stumbled.
“Are you alright? I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Heivan steadied her by the arm. Roze looked down at the hand holding her.
“Ah, pardon me.”
Realizing her gaze, Heivan let go. But the warmth and reassurance of his grip lingered.
“…I should go, Your Grace.”
Roze struggled to calm the flutter in her chest. But she couldn’t hide the flush on her face.
Noticing her blush, Heivan spoke softly.
“You haven’t finished your tea.”
“Ah… I just thought I should check on the young lady. She wanted to see the fireworks.”
She clutched and unclutched her skirt as she spoke. But her words sounded more like an excuse.
As if she was trying to escape—without even knowing why.
Heivan stroked his chin thoughtfully, then tilted his head.
“I thought you said she was sound asleep? You’re going to wake her up on purpose?”
“I’ll just check. The noise might’ve woken her.”
Roze bowed again, preparing to leave. But Heivan reached out to stop her.
“It’s fine. Let her sleep. She must be exhausted after today—she’s not likely to wake from a little noise.”
“But…”
Roze trailed off, reluctant to give up. Heivan glanced at her, then walked to the sofa, speaking casually.
“I’ll have someone buy a few fireworks in the morning.”
“…Excuse me?”
Roze blinked in confusion. He leaned back into the sofa and gestured to the seat across from him.
“They sell fireworks meant for children here—ones that can be set off on private estates. We’ll get some and light them with Plita tomorrow evening. Not a bad idea, right?”
“Yes… of course.”
It really wasn’t a bad idea. In fact, it might be even more memorable for Plita than tonight’s display. Not as grand as fireworks in the sky—but setting them off with her own hands, beside her dad, would leave a deeper impression.
“So, finish your tea. Since you’re here anyway, enjoy the view. The fireworks will be clearer from here.”
Heivan encouraged her again, and this time Roze didn’t refuse. She returned to the sofa and turned her gaze to the window.
