The Flower That Blooms in Winter
In the course of doing business, similar situations arose often enough. A lie spoken naturally amid the back-and-forth of conversation, meant to give the other party confidence. Such words had to be uttered without the slightest hesitation. Only then would the other believe you truly knew what you were talking about and follow along. So it was the same now. What was so difficult about inventing a plausible name for some weed no one properly knew?
And seeing the expectant light in her eyes only strengthened that resolve. In that moment his mind began calculating at speed. After a fleeting instant, Mikhail answered with a smile.
"I don't know either."
"…What?"
Just as he had expected. Anastasia looked startled, then her shoulders slumped. Was it really something to be so disappointed over—not knowing the name of some flower? A faint sense of injustice stirred in him, yet Mikhail asked again with patience.
"Why do you want to know the name of a weed like this?"
"This is…"
Anastasia crouched down and gazed at the flower of the weed.
"Because it blooms even in winter."
"……?"
"Everything else dies in winter, but this one sometimes blooms between the snow. So I was curious."
Was that so. He had never looked closely at the flowers that grew along the road, so he did not particularly know. Watching Anastasia's disappointment, Mikhail collected himself and said what he had truly intended.
"Then shall we go look for the name of that flower?"
"What? Where?"
At the suggestion that they go and look, Anastasia sprang to her feet in surprise. When unease rose on her face, Mikhail quickly reassured her.
"We won't go far. The answer should be right over there."
Mikhail answered thus while looking toward the mansion. Realizing they would not leave Edenhurst, Anastasia finally relaxed, rose, and followed behind him.
"Do you plan to ask the gardeners?"
"No. They might have a name they call that flower by, but it probably won't be accurate."
If it was a flower scattered across all of Novgord, the name would likely differ from region to region. He could tell her that name, yet Mikhail wanted to give her a more proper one.
As Mikhail passed back through the door they had come out of and began climbing the central staircase, Anastasia hesitated a moment before seizing his hand firmly.
She still thinks she needs to support me, it seems.
This was likely Anastasia's nature. Even while afraid, if she had to help someone else she would brave that fear. Mikhail found a disposition so different from his own both pitiful and amusing. Those who lived good and kind lives according to the words of a god who did not even exist. That was why, through all those long years of abuse, she had never made a sound and simply submitted. A weak and gentle nature. It was also a nature he despised.
Suddenly he grew curious. What would she do if he shook off the hand holding him now? If he took back what he had given and drove her down to the basement again, what would she say? If he cleared away the lavish meals and brought out food even a Sokolov dog would not eat, what would happen? Probably…
…She would accept it.
At first she would be flustered, but soon she would accept her situation. And she would blame no one, thinking it was simply her fate. The fate given by God.
Mikhail could not imagine Anastasia hating or resenting anyone. To the point where he wondered what on earth one would have to do to earn such emotions from this woman.
Mikhail climbed the stairs slowly, one step at a time. If Igor had seen this nearby he would have looked at him with a face demanding what the hell he was doing again, but fortunately there was neither Igor nor anyone else's eyes on the staircase.
Mikhail deliberately leaned his body toward Anastasia, who was grunting as she held his hand. It must have been quite heavy and difficult; the sight of her straining until her face flushed was both pitiful and made him wonder how far she would endure.
In the end, until they fully reached the second floor, Mikhail did not ease the weight of his body leaning on her, and as a result Anastasia was trembling as if all her strength had left her once they arrived.
Still this weak.
He had thought she looked much improved on the outside, but apparently not yet. Mikhail clicked his tongue inwardly. It seemed he would need to put in more effort if he wanted to take what he desired.
When he started walking after reaching the second floor, he spotted a moving figure at the window of the corridor toward the annex.
"……"
He glanced that way once, then continued walking as if he had seen nothing. A moment later a familiar face appeared between the curtains. It was Catherine.
Catherine saw him and Anastasia walking beside him, then twisted her face into a terrifying expression. Then, as if worried about being caught, she soon vanished behind the curtain. Seeing no movement in the fabric, it seemed she had left the spot entirely.
Will she go straight to the Countess or Elizabeth?
Seeing Catherine reminded him of Igor, who had come to him the night before.
"It's fine to enjoy your vacation, but wouldn't it be better to take care of what needs doing first and then enjoy yourself?"
"What needs doing?"
"Wouldn't it be good to settle the marriage talks with Miss Elizabeth first?"
It was a fair point. Now the Lauderdale family realized how much they were worth, and that he had already paid that price. In short, they were already sold.
But that was not the end of it. A tool only fulfills its value when used. If he forgot about the tool in his hands and a new one came along, it would no longer be of use.
Though I have no intention of taking a loss.
He was not the type to take losses. So he intended to make good use of the Lauderdales now that they were in his grasp. Anastasia Lauderdale was merely an interesting diversion given to him while he did that tedious work. He had no intention of forgetting what he originally set out to do.
I should have dinner with the Lauderdale mother and daughters today.
No matter how fun the play was, he could not forget what needed to be done.
Mikhail gestured to the servant waiting at the end of the corridor in case he was called. Then, when the servant approached, he spoke in a low voice that would not reach Anastasia, who had stepped back a few paces.
"Tell them I plan to have dinner with the Lauderdale ladies this evening, so prepare for it."
"Understood."
The servant did not dare ask more and went downstairs to carry out the order. Only after the servant disappeared did Anastasia approach his side again. At times like this she seemed less like a cat and more like a puppy still afraid of the world. In any case, Mikhail found that appearance… quite cute. The way she clung only to him.
Since she had given him pleasure, it was his turn to repay her. Mikhail headed toward the study at a leisurely pace, unlike usual, so that Anastasia could keep up.
Since coming up to the second floor, Anastasia had stuck even closer to his side, more on guard. Then, when they passed the Count's room where he was staying, Anastasia's face went especially pale.
"Anastasia?"
When he noticed something odd and called her name, Anastasia looked at him with a start, like someone waking from a nightmare. In that brief time her round forehead was damp with sweat. The fine fabric of her clothes was full of crumpled wrinkles from how tightly she had gripped it.
"Are you feeling unwell?"
She had been fine just a moment ago—why this sudden change?
But Anastasia looked at him for a moment, then shook her head vigorously.
"No, I'm fine. It's just that it's been so long since I came up here… and the mistress dislikes it…"
When the Countess was mentioned, Mikhail understood why Anastasia was tense. There was no way she had been called up here for anything good. Still, she was so afraid that he considered taking her back downstairs, but fortunately Anastasia gradually regained her composure. And more than anything, there was something he wanted to show her.
He stood before a large door. If his prediction was right… Anastasia would quite like this place.
"Open it."
"Me?"
Mikhail nodded instead of answering. Anastasia grasped the doorknob with a worried face. When she hesitated, Mikhail spoke again.
"You'll be surprised."
At those words Anastasia nodded as if understanding.
"Is there a bug inside, by any chance?"
"A bug?"
"Or if not that, a frog, or a lizard…"
"Why would you think I'd put something like that beyond the door?"
"But… somehow I feel like I'm going to be startled."
Catherine had often done that. When she put something in a box and gave it as a gift, mostly strange things would jump out. Those things were not scary. Just empty, really.
Catherine always said, "There's something in here that will really surprise you," but she had never truly been surprised even once. She only pretended to be surprised because then Catherine would give her clothes or things, so she played along. Then Catherine was happy, and she was happy too.
Anastasia finished preparing to pretend she was surprised. If Mikhail would be pleased like Catherine, she could do that much for him anytime. Still… she did not have high expectations.
"Go on and open it."
At Mikhail's urging, Anastasia slowly opened the door.
The thick wooden door pushed inward silently and smoothly. Through the opening, the indoor air warmed by sunlight rushed out. An unfamiliar scent was mixed in the air. She wondered if there was some beast she did not know inside, but it was not that kind of smell.
Anastasia stepped inside as if entranced. And she realized the identity of the unfamiliar scent mixed in the air. It was a spacious room. On the walls of that room… were books, filled to the brim.
Anastasia doubted her own eyes. In her life this was the first time she had seen so many books all at once. She was so overwhelmed that she could not even tell how many volumes there were. If she could count the number of books, it would surely have been the largest number she had ever encountered in her life.
As Anastasia stood frozen in place, unable to say a word, Mikhail's delighted voice came from behind.
"How is it? Are you a little surprised?"