Chapter 12

As Cura had mentioned, Serin stood a bit shorter than Kennard, but his physique outstripped that of most other grown men. He toiled diligently in unassuming attire, donning a plain shirt and jeans without any pretension. His work gloves extended up to his elbows, with a small basket strapped to his thigh. While his countenance remained impassive, his brownish-silver locks seemed to capture the muted sunlight within the enclosed space, casting a brilliant and somewhat exotic glow upon him.

In stark contrast to Kennard, who exuded an aura of impending danger akin to a wintry field or the dark night sky, Serin presented a different image, distinct and enigmatic.

“Oh, there he is,” Cura murmured to Elena, hastening forward. Elena followed suit, gently lifting the trailing hem of her dress.

“Lord Serin, I’ve brought Lady Elena,” Cura announced.

Serin glanced down as he placed freshly plucked flowers into his basket.

“Lord Serin?” Elena repeated.

Serin’s brow furrowed, and he regarded Cura with a narrowed gaze.

“You instructed me to use that title when others were present,” Cura chimed in, her playful mischief evident as she leaned in and cocked her head, a teasing gesture aimed at Serin.

“Let’s keep the chatter to a minimum. Are you Elena?” Serin’s stare pierced Cura once more before shifting to Elena.

“Yes, I’m Elena,” she replied, lifting her gaze to meet Serin’s and gently gathering the hem of her dress.

“Hmm.” Serin continued to scrutinize Elena, his gaze seemingly searching for something deeper before he audibly sighed. His annoyance was palpable, and Elena, making no attempt to hide her discomfort, briefly met his disapproving eyes and then quickly averted her gaze.

In this castle, with the exception of a handful of individuals, most of the inhabitants regarded her with similar disdain. Though familiarity had dulled the sting, it remained challenging to acknowledge and disregard open animosity. Even Kennard, who showed her favor, couldn’t entirely mask the similarity of his gaze to Serin’s.

Elena was fortunate that only Kennard had the power to unsettle her with a mere glance.

With measured care, Serin descended the ladder, nonchalantly placing the basket on a nearby bench. The basket brimmed with flowers, boasting yellow centers and leaves spanning a spectrum from white to purple, all vividly colored. Elena and Cura received no acknowledgment from Serin as he transferred the blossoms from the basket to a sizeable sack, treating them with a delicate touch to avoid harming their petals.

Having secured the sack’s opening, Serin removed his leather gloves, which reached up to his elbows, and turned to face the two of them.

“So, what can you do?” he inquired, directing his question at Elena.

“What?” Elena was caught off guard by the sudden query.

“Have you ever worked with trees or flowers?”

“Me, tending to trees or flowers?” Elena lowered her gaze to her hands, marked by calluses and old scars. Her hands might have been weathered, but she couldn’t recollect ever tending to flowers or trees.

“Well, if you tell me what to do, I can assist…”

“Help with what when you’re unfamiliar with the tasks?” His response dripped with a touch of disdain before Elena could finish her sentence. She tightened her index fingers within the long, opulent sleeves of her dress.

“You agreed to accept an offering on a whim, even though you know nothing, and now you’re offering to help?”

Serin flung his leather gloves, which he had held until then, onto the bench with a resounding thud.

“Gardening wasn’t a voluntary choice for Lady Elena; it was a direct order from the Duke. There’s no reason to be confrontational with her,” Cura defended Elena, planting her hands on her hips as she positioned herself between Serin and Elena. Her freckles seemed to converge at the center of her face, and her nostrils flared as she shot a glare at Serin.

“Who’s causing trouble?” Serin’s brows furrowed.

“Who do you think, Serin Oppa?”

“Cura, it’s alright.” Elena quickly reached out and touched Cura’s shoulder, prompting Cura to turn around. As it stood, it appeared that a quarrel between siblings was on the horizon. When Elena subtly gestured with her head, Cura let out a resigned sigh and stepped aside.

“Why are you foisting this nuisance onto me? What’s going through your head? Are you trying to get back at me for making you write those answers against your will?” Serin grumbled in annoyance, while Elena remained silent. It was apparent that Serin harbored not only an aversion to Elena but also some dissatisfaction with Kennard.

Cura whispered to Elena, “What should we do? Oppa seems quite upset. He’s likely to grumble for a while in this state.”

She continued to speak to Elena in hushed tones, attempting to shield the conversation from Serin’s ears, though Serin appeared resolute in maintaining his discontented expression.

Elena found the situation uncomfortable, yet she believed that it was better to listen to what was said now and let it go rather than lingering as an unwelcome presence in the castle.

She hoped that by assisting Serin with even a single task over time, she might begin to improve their relationship. Then, her gaze fell upon a small purple flower inadvertently left behind in the basket Serin had set down. It appeared to have been overlooked as he transferred the others to the sack.

Elena cast a quick glance at Serin, still grumbling, before plucking the missing flower from the basket.

“Look, a flower was left behind…”

“Oh my, Lady Elena!”

Observing the flower seemed to hold significance for Serin, and Elena believed that preserving every single bloom might be important. Perhaps, she thought, letting him know would be of some assistance. However, when Cura cried out in alarm, Elena sensed that something had gone awry.

Have I overstepped my boundaries? Should I have touched a single flower only with Serin’s permission?

In mere moments, a flurry of thoughts raced through her mind. As Serin turned swiftly in surprise, time appeared to slow for Elena. His icy and irritated eyes briefly reflected shock and bewilderment.

“Are you out of your mind?” Serin yelled, echoing Cura’s outburst before seizing a long piece of cloth from the bench and striking Elena’s hand with it.

“Ow!”

With her palm throbbing in pain, Elena instinctively clutched both her hands. The spot where the cloth had made contact had turned a bright red. Beyond the physical discomfort, she felt a deep sense of embarrassment for her impulsive actions, and tears welled up in her eyes unexpectedly.

“Lady Elena, are you all right?” Cura, who had been lost in thought, drew nearer and examined Elena.

“I’m… I’m fine.”

“Cura, don’t touch her. Keep your distance!” Serin, his own face paling, urgently approached to inspect Elena’s hand.

Serin wrapped one of his hands with the cloth, fashioning it into a makeshift bandage, and then gently cradled Elena’s hand. He proceeded to alternate between patting her hand and lightly tapping her back. Following this, he examined her complexion and scrutinized her pupils.

“Stick out your tongue,” he instructed, his tone firm.

Elena blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Stick out your tongue,” Serin repeated, his repetition making Elena’s face flush with embarrassment.

“Quickly!” he insisted.

Reluctantly, she extended her tongue, and Serin’s face drew nearer. Startled, she attempted to pull back, but Serin’s face inched even closer. His furrowed brows and one raised eyebrow gave him an air of irritation.

“Are you all right?” he inquired.

“What?” Elena stared at Serin with a blank expression, struggling to comprehend his words.

“Goodness!” Cura sank to the ground.

“Cura?” Elena attempted to move beside Cura to check on her since she appeared unwell, but Serin blocked her path and shook his head.

“Don’t touch her.”

“What’s happening…” Elena muttered, her confusion evident.

Serin shifted his weight onto one leg, tilting his head at an odd angle. From that stance, he scrutinized Elena from head to toe several times.

“Lord Serin, what are you doing?” Elena couldn’t hold back her question any longer.

“Who are you?”

“What?”

“This is a Vanaichi, a poisonous flower.” Serin pointed at the purple blossom that had tumbled from Elena’s hand to the ground. “It’s highly toxic, and mere contact can swiftly spread the poison throughout your body. Ingesting it leads to instant death. But how can you be so composed?”

“I… I don’t…”

“Well…” Serin sighed, rubbed his forehead, and then glanced at the cloth in his hand. With a feeble gesture, he extended his arm, turned around, put on the leather gloves he had previously removed, and carefully retrieved the fallen Vanaichi flower from the ground, placing it in the sack.

Elena watched Serin’s actions with a blank expression, while Cura, who had risen to her feet, approached Elena but maintained a slight distance.

“Are you truly okay?” Cura inquired.

Elena nodded. “Yes.”

“I thought I was going to lose my mind. If you had been poisoned, Lady Elena, I would have died right in front of the Duke.” Cura wiped her chest and shivered involuntarily, her body trembling at the mere thought of such an outcome.

“Thanks to you, my life was nearly cut short,” Serin grumbled irritably. At the same time, he seemed to relax his previously tense shoulders, as though relieved.

Elena, someone who could handle the poisonous flower without harm, couldn’t grasp the significance of their words and actions.

“No nausea or dizziness?” Serin asked once more, as if seeking reassurance.

“No, I’m fine.”

Elena’s response only seemed to intensify Serin’s initial suspicions, more than when they had first met.