Chapter 174: A Bouquet of Candies (1)
As Kestrel sat munching on her breakfast, Locky approached with a colorful bouquet of flowers in hand. "They’re from Tarian," she mentioned with a grin.
The posh Black Knight roses, mingled with soft green bellflowers, came beautifully wrapped and emitted a pleasant aroma. In the current Empire, possessing such flowers is seen as a luxury, making the gift a lavish and romantic gesture.
Kestrel merely threw them a fleeting glance, a look of indifference in her eyes. To her, these flowers were of no use since they couldn’t be eaten, and they paled in comparison to the breathtaking flowers Kaworu nurtured in their garden.
"Just dispose of them," she remarked with directness, always straightforward about things she wasn’t fond of.
This, however, brought a smirk to Locky’s face. With Vasilisa and some others scheduled to drop by today, she could hand over the flowers to them. Alternatively, such a magnificent bouquet could easily be sold on the streets, providing the youngsters with a decent sum of pocket change.
Sometime later, Kaworu entered, bearing another bouquet in hand. He mentioned that he’d discovered it at the doorstep during his usual flower maintenance routine.
This bouquet was unique – crafted entirely from assorted candies, wrapped in floral paper, it was a grand spectacle. The captivating sight of the sugary delights brought a sparkle to Kestrel’s eyes. Without hesitation, she reached out, her lips parting in anticipation, and grasped the candy bouquet.
Locky leaned in, trying to get a better view.
Of late, Kestrel had been on the receiving end of many ornately packaged gifts. But more often than not, she’d display apathy towards them, leaving Locky with the task of deciding their fate.
Secretly, Locky was hoping Kestrel would pass on this candy bouquet as well. He envisioned distributing them to the young visitors expected later that day. To her slight dismay, however, Kestrel, beaming with joy, clutched the candy-packed bouquet and made her way upstairs.
Pondering deeply, Locky mused, "Whoever sent this truly knows the way to Kestrel’s heart. Nothing elates her more than a bundle of candies."
Strangely, the candy bouquet bore no identifier. An extensive assortment of candies, with a single piece of each flavor, all meticulously packaged. The gift had been discreetly positioned outside their courtyard at dawn, only to be retrieved by Kaworu.
Holding the candy bouquet close, Kestrel was reminded of a whispered promise from a shadowy maze: "I’ll shower you with candies, an endless supply."
Only Ren would extend such a heartfelt gesture to her.
She decided to rest the candy bouquet beside the window.
Peering out, she observed a vast expanse of deep blue sky. This canvas beautifully juxtaposed the vibrant candy wrappers, making it seem like the universe’s sweetness was concentrated right before her eyes.
Kestrel’s mind raced, pondering why Ren would choose to fulfill his pledge on such a serene morning.
She playfully counted the candies, strategizing about rationing them. Consuming two or three daily would ensure their longevity. Merely gazing upon them uplifted her mood.
After her breakfast and morning routine, Kestrel set her sights on the Tower.
Kestrel smoothly swiped her ID card, granting her access to the elevator leading to the Tower’s higher floors. As she traveled upward, she gazed out to observe royal soldiers rigorously training, the students of beta academy engrossed in a botany class, and the familiar rhythm of life in the Tower — all felt reassuringly unchanged.
Over the past few months, the Queen had frequently requested Kestrel’s presence. She’d become so familiar with the Tower’s intricate pathways that she no longer required an escort to navigate them.
Finance Minister Viktor, a notably large man tipping the scales at over 200 kilograms, had a peculiar habit of lying down at every given chance. Yet, upon spotting Kestrel, he defied expectations by energetically making his way over. "Ah, dear sister, Kestrel," he greeted with gusto.
He often boasted of sharing a royal lineage with Kestrel, justifying his address of "sister". Yet, much to his chagrin, Kestrel never reciprocated by addressing him as "brother".
For a span exceeding a decade, Kestrel had been devoid of familial company. But after receiving personal commendations from the Queen, it seemed like relatives materialized from thin air. A flurry of royals, nobles, and distinguished members of the Empire suddenly proclaimed close kinship, showering her with familial affection.
"I’ve been meaning to catch up with you," Viktor remarked cheerfully, extending a packet towards Kestrel. "Contained herein are the properties registered under your parents’ names. As you were a minor, the Empire had taken the responsibility of overseeing them on your behalf."
With a more earnest tone, he added, pressing the hefty packet into Kestrel’s grasp, "I’ve recently had them audited and sorted for you. Once you’ve reviewed, let me know if anything seems amiss."
Kestrel nonchalantly perused the contents, which comprised an array of property deeds, stakeholder agreements, and fiscal statements, all arranged with precision.
But as she delved deeper, a singular, faded photograph tumbled out. This aged image depicted a serene snow-covered landscape, brutally disrupted by the charred remnants of a once-grand holiday villa. This image was no stranger to Kestrel.
Ironically, despite the constant essence of springtime that graced the Tower’s upper floors — where gardens flourished and butterflies frolicked amongst blossoms — this photo brought with it an intense coldness. Kestrel’s fingers, as pale as alabaster, delicately clutched the photo. A tempest of emotions swirled behind her deep, dark eyes — this was ground zero for the haunting memories of her youth.
She’d relived the horrific scene countless times in her nightmares. The very house that had tormented her dreams had now quite literally fallen into her hands. Gazing intently at the image, memories flooded back — of the room she’d been playing in that fateful day, the frantic manner in which her mother had scooped her up. Yet the chilling truth remained: her beloved parents, along with the loyal household staff, had all perished in the snowy embrace of that villa.
Kestrel’s grip tightened around the photo, her eyes glued to the image. The building captured was a haunting shell of what it once was, charred beyond recognition. Its dark, hollow windows seemed to stare back, reminiscent of the pained eyes of spirits crying for justice.
Noticing that Kestrel’s attention was solely on the photo and not on the intricate property documents or the detailed bank summaries, Viktor felt a pull to intervene. "You don’t need to focus on this. This burned-down house may not hold much monetary value. However," he said, trying to steer her attention, "there’s a vineyard and a winery adjacent to it, which belonged to your family. That, my dear, is where the real treasure lies. Let me find those details for you."
As Viktor extended his hand, aiming to guide Kestrel through the papers, she abruptly raised her hand. Her piercing dark eyes locked onto his, silently signaling him not to touch the packet any further.
