Chapter 5

Deborah dug up the rose garden?

“She didn’t vandalize just any flower bed—she dug up my wife’s rose garden?! Where is Deborah right now?!”

Duke Seymour roared.

How dare she lay a hand on that garden? There was no doubt she’d grown tired of being confined and had taken her frustrations out on the one place she should never have touched.

That wretched girl.

When is she ever going to become a decent human being?

His blood pressure shot up, and the back of his neck throbbed. He had thought he’d already seen the very bottom of his daughter’s depravity, but apparently there was an even deeper basement.

“I asked where she is!”

“She is still in the rose garden, Your Grace. We were told that only a small part of it was disturbed, so perhaps you should calm your anger just a little—”

“Out of my way!”

Brushing past his anxious aide, the duke strode straight toward the garden his wife had once tended.

The rose garden, protected by preservation magic, was located right beside his office.

Even so, he rarely entered it.

He would only gaze at it through the window, unable to bring himself to step inside. Every visit only reminded him that his wife was gone.

Ordinarily, he would have hesitated before entering the garden.

But today, his fury left him no room for such thoughts.

Breathing heavily, he marched toward Deborah, who stood in the center of the garden.

“You!”

“You’re here.”

Deborah spoke as though she had been expecting him.

The duke was about to explode in anger, but he unconsciously faltered.

Her long hair was loosely tied and draped over one shoulder, making her resemble his late wife more than ever before.

That wasn’t all.

She was wearing a white rose corsage in her hair.

It had been his wife’s favorite accessory to place in young Deborah’s hair.

He had expected her to be covered in gaudy jewels as usual.

Instead, the sight of his daughter stirred forgotten memories—and a faint trace of paternal affection.

For a brief moment, the duke experienced genuine confusion.

“W-What exactly are you doing here?!”

Regaining his composure with difficulty, he spoke sternly.

However, the intimidating force he’d entered with had noticeably diminished.

“I was walking through the garden and admiring the roses. They’re a variety you can’t see during winter.”

Meeting his eyes without the slightest hesitation, Deborah gently stroked a pink rose that looked much like the ones his wife had loved.

Don’t tell me…

Did she expect I’d be angry and deliberately imitate her mother?

Cunning little thing.

Curling his lips into a cold sneer, the duke replied,

“What possessed you to suddenly admire flowers? It hardly suits someone who has been obsessed with nothing but jewelry.”

“…How exactly is this flower any different from a diamond?”

At Deborah’s retort, Duke Seymour frowned.

“What do you mean by that?”

“This rose has no fragrance. It never wilts. Insects never touch it. Isn’t it just like a diamond that remains unchanged forever?”

The duke stared at his daughter, momentarily caught off guard.

She wasn’t wrong.

These magically preserved roses and diamonds shared the same characteristics.

Neither had color-changing seasons, fragrance, nor decay.

Yet admitting she had a point would wound his pride.

“You dare compare mere luxury gemstones to the flowers your mother cherished? Watch your tongue.”

He spoke sharply.

“What Mother grew… wasn’t this.”

Still gently touching the rose, Deborah lowered her long violet-tinted eyelashes.

“What?”

“Aren’t flowers beautiful because they wither in winter… and bloom again when warmth returns?”

“Rather than admitting your mistake, you’re spouting sophistry. Pathetic child.”

The duke deliberately hardened his expression.

So she intended to smooth everything over with pretty words?

Not a chance.

She’s thinking more than usual…

But no matter how clever her excuses were…

He could never overlook the fact that she’d dug up the garden his wife had left behind.

“It’s not sophistry.”

Deborah reached into the pocket sewn inside her shawl.

“Mother wrote these words herself. Please read them.”

The moment Duke Seymour saw the pale lavender stationery in her hand, his eyes widened.

If his eyes weren’t deceiving him…

That was the exact stationery his wife had always used.

Even the butterfly-patterned border was identical.

“A letter Mother wrote.”

With trembling hands, the duke accepted the letter his daughter offered.

Inside, perfectly preserved, was the handwriting he had longed to see again.

“Where… where did you find this…?”

His throat tightened so much that he could barely finish the sentence.

“I found it here.”

Looking toward the rose bushes Deborah had dug up, the duke hurriedly read the letter.

As he read the letter from Marienne—whose existence he had never even known about—he felt as though he had been transported back into the past.

I slowly let out the breath I’d been holding.

The cold-faced Duke Seymour had been ready to tear me apart.

Yet the instant he saw his wife’s letter, the murderous look in his eyes vanished.

I seriously thought I was going to cry from fear.

What kind of terrifying father was that?

Thank goodness Deborah had nerves of steel.

If it had been the old me from my previous life, my legs would have given out long ago.

Risking my life just to deliver a single letter to my father…

Just how awful had Deborah been?

Sighing inwardly, I quietly stepped backward while the duke remained absorbed in the letter.

“I’ll be going now.”

His attention was entirely fixed on his wife’s letter, so he barely acknowledged my farewell.

I quickly slipped out of the garden, pressing a hand against my pounding heart.

Thank goodness I found the letter.

The reason I’d risked my neck and marched into the duke’s treasured garden carrying a shovel…

…was because of the duchess’s letter buried beneath the rose bushes.

Originally, it was something the novel’s heroine discovered by chance after being kidnapped by the twins.

The novel described the scene in vivid detail.

“Miya, why are you trying to run away? If you stay by my side… this entire beautiful garden can be yours.”

Rozad forcibly dragged the heroine into the rose garden—the very symbol of the late duchess.

“Please stop this, Lord Rozad.”

“Why throw yourself into a thorn bush when you could have roses that are as eternal as jewels? Are you stupid… or are you provoking me on purpose?”

As Rozad vented his frustration on the heroine for refusing to obey him, he shoved her forward without caring whether the rose thorns scratched her.

Ahem.

The corner of a box protruding from the ground snagged against her back among the rose bushes, making her realize something was buried beneath the soil.

That evening, after asking to walk through the garden alone, Miya desperately dug at the ground.

She believed that something important had to be hidden in such a mysterious garden.

In the end…

She discovered a box containing a bundle of letters the duchess had written to Duke Seymour during her lifetime.

“Your Grace, Duke Seymour. I’ll give you the letters the duchess left behind. In return… please let me leave this place.”

By bargaining with the letters beloved by the duke who had adored his wife, Miya escaped from the sadistic twins.

It’s an important item for the story… but my own survival comes first.

After promising myself that I’d make sure the heroine never got kidnapped later, I boldly entered the garden carrying a shovel.

The garden was much bigger than I expected.

Fortunately…

Because that bastard Rozad had cornered Miya against the glass greenhouse wall before throwing her into the bushes while she tried to escape…

…I already knew the exact location where the letters had been buried.

Besides, I figured that if someone had buried something, there would be traces left behind.

So for the past several days, I’d searched the rose bushes near the greenhouse, carefully examining the ground.

I got stabbed by thorns countless times… but it paid off.

I found a patch of soil that looked strangely disturbed among the bushes.

After digging there…

I finally obtained the very box described in the novel.

Everything’s fine… except for one thing I can’t understand.

In the novel, Miya only traded the letters with the duke.

But when I dug up the box…

It didn’t contain only the duchess’s letters.

There was also her diary.

Judging by the handwriting, the same person had clearly written both.

Then why had Miya only traded the letters?

I don’t know the reason… but it’s actually better for me.

Thanks to the opening pages of the duchess’s diary…

I learned that she used to place a white rose corsage in little Deborah’s hair.

There might be even more useful information inside.

As for the hairstyle and clothes, I simply copied what I’d seen in the duchess’s portrait.

The cold-hearted duke had tolerated Deborah’s outrageous behavior all this time because her face looked almost identical to his late wife’s.

It’s a great setting. I’d be stupid not to use it.

Of course, relying on the trick too often might eventually backfire.

But it worked this time.

After leaving the maze-like garden, I encountered the duke’s aide waiting nearby.

“My lady, are you unharmed?”

“I’m fine. More importantly, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Please tell me.”

At my request, the aide’s thick eyebrows twitched.

He probably thought it had come completely out of nowhere.

“It’s nothing important. Don’t mention it to Father.”

Though it wouldn’t really matter if he did.

Leaving the suspicious-looking aide behind, I returned to the detached residence.

Duke Seymour stroked his chin while rereading his wife’s letter.

So that’s the passage Deborah quoted…

Overworked and exhausted, the duke found himself taking brief moments of rest by reading his wife’s letter.

Over the past two days…

He had read it hundreds of times.

Every time he did, it felt as though she had returned to him.

The letter was written as though she were casually speaking to him.

Her familiar expressions and mannerisms were so vivid that he could almost hear her voice whispering beside his ear.

After silently committing every line to memory, he looked out toward the garden.

At the entrance, where blooming roses had once filled the landscape…

The preservation magic had already been removed.

The ground had returned to plain black soil.

From now on…

He decided he would watch flowers bloom and fade with the changing seasons.

That eternally perfect rose garden, frozen outside the flow of time…

…was probably never what his wife had wanted.

If I hadn’t placed preservation magic on the garden…

I would have found this letter years ago while clearing away the old flowers and preparing the soil.

A sigh escaped him at his own foolishness.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he continued reading.

Whenever he reached certain passages, he couldn’t help feeling regret as he absentmindedly placed his pipe between his lips.

Marienne usually wrote letters formally and only about practical matters.

Letters like this…

Written freely, following whatever came to her mind…

Existed only from the brief period when they had first been in love.

I finished reading it too quickly.

Perhaps I should have savored it.

Thinking how childish that sounded, the duke carefully returned the letter to his drawer.

Then, wearing his usual cold expression once more, he resumed his mountain of paperwork.

Winter darkness settled outside far earlier than usual.

Even late into the night, countless documents still awaited his signature.

He rang the bell cord and ordered a servant to bring him tea.

“Come in.”

A knock sounded at the door.

The duke answered curtly.

Hm?

Instead of a servant carrying tea…

Deborah entered the room.

She was accompanied by his aide.