#011. Just One Fresh Flower
“A flower? Are you asking for a whole garden?”
As expected of a Grand Duke, Melchizedek immediately leapt to an extravagant scale. Blanche quickly added clarification.
“Eegos kkotcheul. (A flower from here.)”
Blanche’s tiny finger pointed to the vine roses hanging above their heads.
“Ah, you want me to build a whole garden filled only with vine roses?”
Why was he always so intent on blowing things out of proportion?
Once again, Melchizedek had gone overboard, prompting Blanche to narrow things down even further—so clearly that not even he could possibly misunderstand.
“This one, one soyi, kkeokkkeo-juseyo. (Just pick one flower for me.)”
“…Just one?”
The boy blinked, clearly not understanding. As if to say, What meaning could a single flower possibly have?
It wasn’t a rose made of gold or a hibiscus carved from diamonds. Just a single fresh flower. Could that really be a gift?
“Yes. One soyi-myeon dwaeyo. (Yes, just one will do.)”
And precisely because it was so simple, Blanche wanted a fresh flower.
In her previous life, no one had ever dared to offer the most beloved consort of Emperor Zhaocheng—a woman who was showered with lavish gifts—a mere living flower. No one ever thought to pluck a blossom for her, not even the general who once placed a peony carved from ruby in her hair and wore a robe embroidered with golden dragons.
The past-life Yibaekryeon had been far too busy to care for or even accept real flowers. So, she had never once received something so insignificant—yet so meaningful.
“Well, I suppose you’re still too young to understand much.”
The boy didn’t get it—why waste such a valuable opportunity on a single flower? But he didn’t argue further.
“Alright. I’ll pick one for you.”
He stood and climbed onto the table. Blanche’s expression twitched at his rude behavior—rarely seen in high society—but the boy, preoccupied with the roses, didn’t notice.
“Here.”
The boy gently picked a single flower and bent down to hand it to her.
A real flower, fragrant and delicate, with soft petals.
Blanche looked down at the flower resting in her hand and smiled faintly.
“Gamsayi batkket-naida. (Thank you. I accept it gratefully.)”
“…It’s just a flower. That’s all.”
Yes. Just one flower. Merely one bloom. So small, not even worthy of being called a “gift.”
And yet, this was exactly what Blanche had wished for.
“Still-yo. Igeomyeon jeungbunhaeyo. (Still, this is more than enough.)”
The boy stared at Blanche’s face as if he couldn’t understand, then gave a small shrug.
“If you say so.”
The Grand Duke left soon after their agreement was made, though he said Blanche was welcome to stay as long as she liked.
Taking advantage of his generosity, Blanche spent the entire afternoon tucked away in the greenhouse before returning to the palace—only to be greeted with poison upon her return.
The poison had been in her water glass during dinner.
The sharp, bitter taste—undeniably unnatural, not meant for human consumption—hit her tongue immediately. She quickly spat the mouthful of water into her napkin.
“Princess? What’s wrong? Is the food not to your liking?”
Tula asked worriedly. Even though Blanche hadn’t swallowed it, the fact that she had held it in her mouth meant it probably wasn’t a type of poison that could absorb through the skin.
Still, just to be safe, she handed the napkin to Tula.
“Tae-uh. Ggommggommhage. (Burn it. Thoroughly.)”
“…Huh? Ah, yes.”
“Geurigo igeon yuri-byeonge dama-jwo. (And this—put it in a glass vial.)”
She wasn’t going to announce the incident right away, but keeping the evidence might come in handy later.
Even if the poison degrades, its residue can still be identified.
Tula looked confused.
“The… water?”
“Ung. (Yes.)”
Blanche nodded firmly. As she resumed eating, Tula, still looking bewildered, left the room with the water glass and napkin. Fortunately, the rest of the food was untouched, and Blanche continued her meal in peace—while lost in thought.
Ever since the Empress had shown interest in her for the first time at the tea party, Blanche had been keeping a close watch on her surroundings. The flurry of social introductions had made it easier to track how information flowed through the palace.
Normally, palace attendants were confined to their assigned roles. In other words, Blanche would have no reason to interact with anyone outside of her immediate guard or personal maids.
But she had fewer than ten attendants total, which meant that by mobilizing even someone like Tula, she could keep tabs on every servant assigned to her.
Over the past month, Blanche had been feeding them false information. A fake hobby to the cleaning maid. A made-up book she claimed to be reading to the seamstress. A pretend injury to her guard.
And like magic, courtiers and royals started parroting those lies: a noblewoman who mentioned her fictional hobby, a prince misquoting her supposed current read, a princess offering to carry her because of her “hurt knee.”
None of these responses could’ve come from observation alone.
Which meant the children around her had all been leaking information—except for Tula.
Not that it was surprising. Blanche knew how spies were recruited. If they weren’t planted from the start, seduction began with seemingly harmless benefits: light compensation, a bit of luxury, and requests for trivial information.
Does it matter if I tell them this? Would they find out anyway? Telling them won’t change anything, right?
Of course naïve attendants—unfamiliar with the nuances of nobility and power—would fall for such coaxing.
The real mystery was how nothing Tula was told had ever been leaked. Blanche had tested it in every way, and it seemed Tula truly hadn’t been swayed—despite being the one closest to her.
So yes, it made sense that all the others, save for Tula, were selling her out.
The original goal wasn’t to stop leaks—but to trace where the information ended up.
And she knew full well that such basic details wouldn’t satisfy a real enemy. No one would plant spies just to learn what books she liked.
But even so, to attempt an assassination just one month after her arrival?
Blanche sighed deeply.
It was clear the person behind this wasn’t thinking long-term. Even though she didn’t want to make a scene, she needed to find out who was responsible. Someone reckless enough to act so rashly would likely do it again.
With that in mind, she turned to Tula, who had just returned with the glass vial.
“How did eb’dy know my schedule today? (How did everyone know my schedule today?)”
Managing information was routine now—just like with the Empress’s tea invitation.
Only this time, unlike her usual misinformation strategy, Blanche had clearly informed her attendants that an invitation existed—but deliberately lied about the sender.
Tula looked up, counting on her fingers as she recalled.
“To Miu, who handles your sewing, you said you’d be meeting Lady Tertoma. To Kalli, in charge of your meals, you said it was Princess Astella. And to Delma…”
Tertoma. Astella. Dilaera…
Blanche mentally assembled the puzzle as she listened to the names.
Figuring out who had poisoned her was surprisingly easy.
Poison as the assassination method. The fact that it had been in water—not food. Those two facts alone were enough to draw a conclusion.
It must’ve been Delma, the cleaning maid.
She wouldn’t have had access to the food, but she would’ve had a chance to poison the water. If she’d had other opportunities, she’d have used them.
And the person Blanche had claimed she was meeting today—Dilaera, the princess known for her herbal expertise. Of course the poison would match.
If Blanche had actually collapsed after meeting Dilaera, the suspicion would’ve fallen squarely on the princess.
But she hadn’t met Dilaera. She’d met the Empress. And thanks to her past life, Blanche could immediately distinguish between what was safe to eat and what wasn’t.
Whoever was behind this would likely assume Delma had botched the job—and now she’d be in trouble.
Maybe it was time to announce her friendship with the Grand Duke a little earlier than planned. If people knew she was favored, they’d be far less likely to try again—unless they were utterly insane.
Now all that was left was deciding what to do with Delma. She didn’t want to reveal the poisoning, but she also couldn’t keep Delma by her side.
Should she use the Grand Duke’s name? Or propose a deal to the Emperor?
She was lost in thought when she realized her plate was already empty. Tula cleared the dishes and asked,
“Now that you’re done eating, what would you like to do next?”
“Chaek ilggeullae. (I want to read.)”
“You really do love books, Princess. Alright, I’ll take you to the window seat where you always read. Come now, this way.”
Blanche stretched out her arms and nestled into Tula’s embrace.
When will this body grow enough to get into a chair by itself?
If only she could blink and ten years would pass.
