Chapter 27
A Season of Roses Without You

By the time Matthias stepped out from his bath, the night was deep. Loosely tying his robe, he leaned against the window that opened toward the garden.

Compared to the vast estate of Arvis, famed for its exquisite gardens and forests, the garden of the townhouse in Latz was modest. Built in the heart of the capital, its grounds were narrow, and neither the dukes before him nor Matthias himself cared much for landscaping.

For that reason, the Latz garden was designed only for appearances. Yet when the roses transplanted from Arvis bloomed, even this meager garden became worth looking at.

When the air began to carry the scent of roses, Matthias would think of the summer he would soon spend at the estate. And in those thoughts, without fail, Layla appeared—the little girl who wandered the gardens while helping the gardener.

His brow furrowed unconsciously.

That girl smelled of roses. Like the blooms nurtured by a gardener with innate talent, raised with the utmost care. If so, then perhaps what the gardener had raised in the forest was not only roses, but also his misfortune.

Layla Llewellyn. What was that name worth, really?

Matthias shut the window, droplets from his wet hair dripping to the floor.

It was better this way. The doctor’s son was a match Layla Llewellyn could never have dreamed of. If through Kyle Etman’s foolish devotion she could become Mrs. Etman and attend university in the capital, then it was the greatest blessing and fortune of her life.

“…Layla.”

He whispered the name softly. If that beautiful misfortune disappeared from before his eyes, it would benefit him too. He ought to applaud her marriage more than anyone.

And yet, even after the window closed and the breeze died, the fragrance of roses lingered at his nose. Then he noticed the vase of roses placed on the console. Someone had cut them from the garden and set them in his room.

His eyes strayed to the golden birdcage, then back to the vase.

“Layla.”

The clearer he spoke her name, the sweeter it became.

A season of roses without you.

As he imagined such a world, Matthias seized one of the full blossoms in his hand. The rose was a pale pink, like the flushed cheeks and tear-brimmed eyes of Layla. His grip tightened until the petals crumpled.

Yes, it was for the best.

He could agree with that.

But then again…

His eyes narrowed.

Could there truly be a season of roses without her? When the flowers bloomed, he would return. So how could she not be there? How?

The thought stirred an old memory, one he had not realized he still carried: that every summer when the roses bloomed, the girl had always been in the garden. As if she were part of Arvis itself.

As if she were his.

The moment he had crushed her yet could not cast her aside, his bird had cried—and for the first time in his life, Matthias had wanted to kill someone. He could not even say if it had been the doctor’s son… or the girl herself.

Only after the night grew endlessly deep did Matthias finally release the mangled petals. With the rose-scented hand, he tore the papers on his desk—documents to extend his service in the guard for another year, due next week.

“I approve.”

Bill finally spoke the words he had long held back. Across the table, Layla’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I mean Kyle, of course. I approve. I more than approve—I’m all for it.”

“Uncle…”

She wrinkled her nose, but Bill pressed on.

“Accept him already. Marry the boy and go to university. That’s truly what I want for you, Layla.”

“I can’t.”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“I do… but marrying Kyle doesn’t make sense.”

“What nonsense is that? Marriage is nothing more than two people loving each other.”

His voice cracked, but Layla’s gaze remained calm.

“It would disgrace Kyle and the Etman family.”

“His father already gave his blessing.”

“But…”

“Layla, forget all that and look only at your own heart.”

His tone rose.

“If you love him, you marry him. If not, then don’t. That’s all. The rest is useless.”

Layla blinked, then took a long swallow of beer.

She was growing into quite the drinker, just as Bill had half-expected. They had even become drinking companions, sharing mugs over small talk.

“I like Kyle. There isn’t another friend in the world as warm and kind as he is.”

She wiped the foam from her lips, her expression turning grave.

“That’s why I don’t want to disgrace him.”

“What’s wrong with you that you’d disgrace anyone? Why so little faith in yourself, Layla?”

“It’s not that. I like who I am now, Uncle. No matter what people say, I know I’m not someone to be ashamed of. I’m working hard to be the kind of adult you hoped I’d become.”

Her eyes glinted behind her glasses.

“But marriage… I don’t know. I don’t know if I should risk turning all my efforts into a mockery.”

“Surely you don’t mean to stay in this cottage forever with an old widower like me.”

“I do. I don’t want to leave this forest. I don’t want to leave you, Uncle.”

“You’re talking nonsense.”

“I have my teaching license now. I’ll find a school nearby, and stay. Just as I am, with you. I can help you, Uncle. I can finally be useful.”

“This forest isn’t going anywhere. Neither am I. Maybe when I’m old and worn out, but not for another decade or two at least.”

Bill drained his mug in great gulps.

“Go to university, marry, do whatever you want—but you’ll always be my Layla.”

He reached across the table and gently clasped her small hand.

She hadn’t changed her mind, even with entrance exams so near. That was why he had arranged this moment, after days of thought.

“If you marry into the Etmans, you’ll live close by. What better life could there be?”

“Uncle.”

“And Layla, rare though it is, there are men you can trust. Men you know will be good husbands, good fathers. Kyle is one of them.”

He stroked her hand and smiled.

“Think about it. To marry such a man, build a real family, fill a home with children. He’ll make sure you’re never lonely.”

“But… aren’t we already real?”

Her fingers played with his, her eyes wet.

“Aren’t we already family, Uncle? A real family?”

“Well, yes…”

The little thing always managed to warm his eyes with tears.

“If you really think so, then all the more reason to listen to me!”

He blustered, and shoved an envelope across the table. Layla opened it, startled. Inside was money for travel and a ticket to Latz.

“Your exam’s next week. Study hard. Harder than usual. If you don’t go to Latz, then you don’t believe we’re real.”

“Uncle!”

“If you don’t take that exam, I’ll never see you again, Layla.”

He released her hand, straightening, looming sternly over her. His eyes were soft, though, giving no real threat.

Layla sat deep in thought, the envelope clutched tight. He memorized her, as if carving her into his heart: clever, lovely, the same as always.

Finally, she raised her mug, serious-faced. Like when she’d once imitated grown-ups as a child.

Bill gladly clinked his mug against hers. This time there was real beer in hers, and she downed it in one gulp. Her face would soon flush bright red, but for now she carried herself like a true drinker.

“If I fail, we’ll still be real, won’t we?”

Her damp question almost broke his composure.

“We’ll see about that.”

His gruff tone belied his warm smile. She smiled back, like it was the truth.

“You’ll love it. The Natural History Museum.”

Kyle’s voice brimmed with certainty.

“It’ll be like heaven for you.”

He had been listing must-see spots in Latz, but when he came to the museum, his excitement overflowed. Through the rattling train window, the scenery of spring in bloom rolled by.

For Layla, it was her first time to Latz. Kyle, though, had often visited relatives there. He had urged her to stay with them, but she had chosen a small hotel instead.

“You’ll be tired today. Let’s go tomorrow?”

“I should study.”

“What difference will it make? Real studying is done ahead of time.”

“Well, listen to Mr. Confidence.”

“Of course, Miss Llewellyn.”

“Impressive.”

“So marry me.”

Ah, there it was. She had wondered why he hadn’t said it yet.

But instead of refusing, Layla studied his face intently. The change startled Kyle.

“W-what is it?”

“Kyle… can you imagine it?”

“Imagine what?”

“Us. As husband and wife.”

Her expression was grave. Kyle’s cheeks flamed.

“Of course I can! I do, all the time!”

“I don’t know. It feels strange. Us, married, with children…”

“What’s strange about that? Nothing at all!”

“Really? Us… having sex, making a baby, raising it. All of that?”

“S-sex… what?”

He thought he must have misheard. Or misheard horribly. But she looked innocent, shameless.

“Sex. Reproduction.”

She repeated it calmly, dropping bombs with a straight face.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Kyle. Every living thing does it, to preserve the species. Birds do it. Flowers do it.”

“Do you even realize what you’re saying right now?”

“Of course. I may be weak in geometry, but I’m strong in other subjects.”

Her proud smile left him speechless.

“I just think it’s a little strange, that we would do that, and…”

“H-here, eat this.”

Kyle shoved a sandwich into her mouth before she could go on. The train was stifling, like an oven.

She chewed, swallowed, and tried to speak again. He stuffed a cookie between her lips.

“Eat this too.”

Please. No more. Please.

He shook his head in despair.

‘When your heart is troubled, think of my shovel.’

That morning, Bill had sent them off with a smile that was both kind and terrifying.

Yes, the shovel.

Kyle pictured that huge dirt-stained spade, more weapon than tool.

“So anyway, Kyle, what I mean is…”

She had finished the cookie now, crumbs on her lips, her mouth red and pretty.

“Say one more word,” he muttered, clutching his head.

“Huh?”

“One more word and…”

He swallowed back his heart, blocked by the vision of the shovel. Then declared grimly:

“I’ll jump off this train.”