The God's Flower

Cecilia stared blankly at the vivid scene unfolding before her.

The Alms Festival hadn't officially begun yet, so not all the merchants had even arrived. Still, makeshift stalls of every kind lined the streets, and between trees planted at irregular intervals hung unlit lanterns and flags, dangling loosely in the air.

What truly conjured the festival atmosphere, though, were the people steeped into every corner of it.

Children with sun-browned faces flashing white teeth as they laughed, couples walking side by side with fingers laced together, elderly folk perched on faded, weathered wooden benches simply savoring the happy noise of the crowd.

Thinking on it, this was a peaceful sight she hadn't witnessed in a very long time. Perhaps not since childhood, when her parents had taken her by the hand to an amusement park.

Maybe that was why she stood there like an outsider, unable to blend in — until Rien approached from behind.

"Is there something you'd like to do?"

His question was as gentle and devoted as always.

Only then did Cecilia, no longer feeling like a stranger, nod vigorously.

"Of course."

Ever since she'd decided to come to the festival with him, she'd had something in mind.

In a couple of days she would leave for the Temple and wouldn't be able to hang around him for a while. She needed to make her moves before she was completely forgotten.

Which means I have to find that first!

A few days ago, she had luckily learned of something perfectly suited to her purpose.

The thing the maids had talked about with faces flushed red!

Certified by grandmothers and great-grandmothers alike — an item that guaranteed a confession would succeed when used together!

And if gifted to a lover, it would bind them together even in the next life!

That remarkable item was none other than a white flower.

She didn't know the details, but it was supposedly a variety resembling the legendary plant called the God's Flower. So valuable that it was offered as the grand prize of a major contest hosted at the festival.

"A contest with the God's Flower as the prize? They'll probably put up a signboard with a white flower painted on it at the venue. I heard there are a lot of participants, since it's such a rare prize."

"Hmm, I see."

"…But how does Lady Cecilia know about that? No — why are you curious about it in the first place?"

Shaking off Melanie's sharp interrogation, Cecilia had boldly taken the lead.

"Shall we look around a bit first?"

First she needed to find the signboard with the white flower painted on it.

Then she would casually "stumble upon" the contest, enter it, and either win the prize herself or buy it off the winner — and gift it to him!

This is Rien's first Alms Festival, so he definitely won't know what the flower means.

She didn't particularly believe in superstitions, but it was perfect for flirting, wasn't it?

Pleased with her plan, she searched diligently — only to keep spotting triangular white flags instead of white flowers.

"There sure are a lot of white flags around."

"Ah, those mark the stalls that provide free food and goods to the hungry during the festival."

"What? But a festival is the perfect time to turn a profit. Free?"

"It is the Alms Festival, after all. They're following the Temple's call to give."

"Ah…"

It was a piety that left the prospective Saintess — who had been thinking only of her own schemes — involuntarily solemn.

Embarrassed, Cecilia deliberately steered her steps toward a direction without flags, when Rien suddenly pointed the other way.

"There are a lot of restaurants from this point on, so it might be better to go the opposite direction."

"Oh, really?"

Wait.

Cecilia, who had been following him without much thought, suddenly narrowed her eyes.

He knew what the white flags meant, and even where the restaurants were?

I'm pretty sure during the interview he said visiting Weberdin itself was a first for him.

Which would mean the Alms Festival was also a first.

"Um, Rien. Have you ever been to Weberdin around this time of year? You seem familiar with the festival here."

"Ah, no. Since you invited me along, I looked a few things up beforehand."

"Hmm, I see."

Well, of course. Rien just came down from the capital — and as Tower Master, no less. There's no way he would have attended an Alms Festival hosted by the Temple.

Knowing which shops sat on which streets meant he must have researched quite thoroughly.

And this from the man who had gone pale with worry that it was dangerous.

Maybe he had been looking forward to today more than he let on.

Cecilia gazed up at him — her human navigation system — and quietly took hold of his sleeve.

"L-Lady Cecilia?"

"I might get lost, you know."

Rien let out a soft ah of understanding and bashfully nodded.

Having completed her morning round of flirting, Cecilia finally found the signboard painted with a white flower.

"Here! Over here!"

"…A serenade contest?"

Rien stood stock-still, reading the banner hanging over the stage.

Right, I have to win no matter what— wait. What? What kind of contest?

They'd said it was a contest prize. Nobody had said the contest was a serenade competition…

Cecilia read the promotional text with a sinking heart.

…Isn't that last part just a punishment?

Of all things, a serenade contest! She wanted to tear her hair out in mortification.

Right on cue, the next contestant climbed onto the stage and began reciting a serenade amid heated cheers.

Might as well listen once. Who knows — maybe it'll be more decent than I think.

"Oooooh, my lovely fiancée! When I swim in the lake of your eyes, I feel a fulfillment so complete I could suffocate!"

…She would stop listening now.

At this rate she might actually retch right there in the street.

But the goosebumps seemed to be hers alone. The woman who was the subject of the serenade, and the people who looked like judges, all had tears welling in their eyes.

They're not tearing up because it's horrifying to hear those words actually spoken out loud? They're genuinely moved?

When the contestant's serenade ended, even vigorous applause poured forth.

At this point, she began to doubt her own taste.

Am I the weird one? Was that actually a deeply moving confession?

"My cute little lark…"

Ptooey.

She had only strung three words together, and her whole body broke out in goosebumps.

No. It was hopeless.

This was all because her romantic cells, having judged the situation hopeless while she was buried in papers and experiments, had finally self-destructed.

Having lost her romantic cells, the prize, and her confidence all at once, Cecilia turned away in hollow defeat.

And then she discovered Rien — a beat too late — looking extremely, thoroughly, intensely mortified.

…Don't tell me he heard me talking to myself.

"I-I, uh, I'll just step away for a moment."

With a quick bow of apology, Rien fled without looking back.

Yeah. I want to die.

Her face twisted with sheer embarrassment.

Cecilia trudged far enough that the serenades could no longer be heard and flopped onto a worn bench.

The only option left is to be reborn.

She was cycling through plans so bleak and dreadful she could barely bring herself to form them into words when Rien returned, arms full of something.

It was a paper bag stuffed with colorful candies, fruit drinks, appetizing skewers, and round little breads.

"I'm sorry. Were you hungry? We could have gone to a restaurant first…"

"Th-that's not it. I just thought eating something delicious might make you feel better."

Rien knelt at her feet and mumbled the words.

Her gloom evaporated in an instant.

"You bought all this for me?"

"Yes!"

She was already grateful he hadn't run off for good — and now he was doing something this thoughtful on top of it.

It was Cecilia, rather, who took a blow to the heart from the unexpected sweetness.

"Thank you."

Unable to hold back, her hand reached for the top of his head, and Rien obediently lowered it just like a puppy.

She wanted to ruffle his hair with all her might!

Damn robe.

The sight of that thick scrap of fabric covering his head sent the warm, fuzzy feeling right back to where it came from, as if it had never been.

"I'll dig in. You eat too, Rien — come on."

With a slightly complicated thank-you, Cecilia pulled him down to sit beside her.

Then they shared the food he had bought.

Cecilia first wet her mouth with the sweet fruit juice. After the well-seasoned, savory chicken and a cherry-flavored candy, she genuinely felt a bit more alive.

All right. Let's try again!

The plan had fallen apart, but the day was long. She could still salvage it.

She stood up with that resolve — and Rien, rising awkwardly after her, began gathering the wooden skewer and candy wrappers she had discarded.

Then, instead of putting them in a trash bin… he quietly slipped them into his bag.

"Rien? Why on earth are you putting trash in there…"

"W-well, the trash bin is far away."

What kind of excuse was that.

So the thing right next to us isn't a trash bin, it's a sculpture?

As her silent protest continued, Rien hesitantly spilled the truth.