Chapter 61 : The Scent of Secrets & Shadows of Ink

✦❖✦ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔𝟏 — The Scent of Secrets & Shadows of Ink ✦❖✦
When flowers mask rot, and ink bleeds truths too heavy to bear…

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I looked closer and saw the envelope in Marilyn’s hand—it bore the seal of Heibenstein Castle.

“The entire social circle is turning its eyes toward Edward’s ball,” she announced, glowing with excitement.

“Heibenstein itself might be unimpressive, but Prince Edward’s presence has everyone buzzing with anticipation.”

“Why?” I asked quietly, despite the heavy weariness weighing down my frame. Still, I humored her—these were things I would need to know eventually.

“Prince Edward’s garden at Barberine Castle,” she explained, “is said to be one of the most breathtaking in all of Docilia.”

“That’s true,” I replied, feigning a touch of emotion. I had been there once. But was it truly beautiful enough to inspire such rumors?

Marilyn’s voice softened into reverence. “There’s a green flower—Eden Blanc. You’ve seen it, haven’t you? It’s exquisite… so rare and mysterious. Its fragrance is sweet… intoxicating, even.”

I nodded slowly. Yes, I remembered it well. Too well.

“Even a single bloom can perfume an entire room,” she whispered, dreamlike, as she gently guided me into a seat.

But I remembered a different truth—its scent had been so overwhelming, it made my head throb.

And yet… I held my tongue. Marilyn, usually so sharp, was glowing with innocent wonder.

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“It’s become the flower,” she said, “that every noblewoman yearns for. You can only get it from the royal family—so if you receive one, it means you’ve gained the royal trust.”

“…I see.”

“And you’ve seen it with your own eyes,” she beamed. “If you get one at the ball, promise to show it to me.”

I said nothing.

If Edward gifted me one, I’d give it to Marilyn without hesitation. I didn’t want something with a scent so strong it could drown out thought.

Still, she kept talking.

My gaze drifted to the ivory box, my mind aching to open it.

But the tale of Eden Blanc continued long after the sun had dipped below the horizon.

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Darkness had cloaked the sky before I finally escaped Marilyn’s endless chatter.

I’d sent Ahin away earlier, feigning exhaustion.

Johannes had not returned. They said something had gone wrong in the capital—he might not be back tonight.

That… was a relief.

I closed the curtains and checked the room. Alone.

With trembling fingers, I finally opened the ivory box.

Inside—letters.

Dozens of them.

My father’s handwriting. So familiar. So missed.

Letters he had never sent.

Most were mundane—he complained about the food, the snoring of his roommate, the endless duties.

I could almost hear his voice in the grumbling. A soft laugh escaped me without permission.

Time passed unnoticed as I read, savoring each page. Until I reached… the final one.

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The ink was smudged and heavy, as if written with the last dregs of strength.

This was my father’s farewell.

His final words to me.

I read slowly. Reverently.

‘Edith, my daughter.
If you’ve received this letter… then I must already be somewhere you cannot reach.
I know you’ll be saddened—shocked. And I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise to return safely.
I really thought I could.

What will become of my sweet girl, left alone? This war… we’re losing. Living alone will not be easy.

I longed to see you become a pharmacist. To see you marry a good man.
But now… I cannot watch over you anymore.

We are but small pieces in the vastness of the universe. We cannot escape our set path.

And death—death, too, cannot be avoided. This… I believe was all fated.

So mourn me briefly, my daughter, and then live.

I believe in you.

I love you.’

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It was heartbreakingly calm. Almost too calm.

I clutched the page tighter. My shoulders trembled. My eyes burned.

Was this really the end?

The grief, long buried, surged like a tide. I could still see his face—still remember the warmth in his laugh.

I read it again. And again.

And then—something odd.

Beneath the letter, faint pressure marks on the next page.

‘…What is this?’

I wiped my tears and lit a candle. The heat brought faint traces into view.

Another message.

A truth my father had hidden—erased—but not completely.

As the marks became legible, my breath caught.

‘Edith, I saw the man… kill.
I still can’t believe it. The scenes won’t leave me.
Inside the ship—on board, of all places. How could someone… do that?

That man… he must be insane.
And yet, he’s going to be in charge.

My poor daughter.

If it’s avoidable… never meet him. Never speak to him.

If you do… run.

Remember this, Edith—never get involved with…
That’s all I can say.

So please—don’t wonder. Don’t search for the truth.
Just… accept it.’

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I froze.

‘What… what is this…?’

Even the handwriting trembled with fear.

My lips parted. I read it again and again. But the words didn’t change.

My father saw someone murdered.

On the very ship where he served.

And he may have been… the only witness.

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The murderer… must have found out.

And then—killed him.

But who?

The name was missing. Erased. Scrubbed so thoroughly it was unreadable.

Why?

Why erase the only clue?

And then—an even darker thought:

‘What if my father was murdered to silence him?’

‘What if the killer disguised himself… as a soldier?’

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Desperate, I reached beneath the letters—and found it.

My father’s notebook.

I turned page after page, until I reached the last.

‘The situation is dire. What will Docilia’s army do?
We’re going to lose. Supplies are gone. Nothing new is coming.
Should I go to the commander?
Are we truly… losing?’

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A torn page. A last hope.

I held it to the candlelight.

And there—more words.

Faint. Scattered.

But they were there.

Waiting.