Nathaniel had been restless ever since the hearing at the palace. The words KINGDOM OF AERATHIA refused to leave his mind. He sat alone in the dining hall, gulping down a glass of beer while staring into space.
"The Weeping Fig..." he murmured to himself.
It was one of the rarest poisonous plants in the entire Kingdom of Aerathia. King Gasper personally monitored its cultivation, and only a handful of trusted farmers were allowed to grow it. Even a Duke like Nathaniel couldn't gain access to it.
"But who had it?" he whispered, gripping the glass tighter.
Whoever poisoned Maya wasn't just dangerous-they had connections powerful enough to obtain something almost impossible to find.
Jasmine walked into the dining room carrying two sealed letters.
"I've written to Aerathia. Within a week we should receive a reply, and I also sent one to Mother explaining everything."
Nathaniel nodded. "Good."
It was an off day, so he decided to remain indoors. After breakfast, groceries arrived at the guest house. Feeling bored, he stepped outside and watched the servants unload baskets and wooden crates.
A young lady climbed down from one of the carriages.
She had youthful black hair tied neatly behind her back, soft fair skin and a simple brown working dress that somehow looked elegant on her. Nathaniel couldn't explain why she looked familiar, but his eyes stayed on her longer than they should have.
Alora noticed someone staring. She turned and met a pair of deep green eyes.
For a brief second, time stood still.
She had never seen eyes that colour before, embarrassed, she looked away... then stole another glance.
Nathaniel caught her doing it.
A gentle smile appeared on his face as he walked toward her, hands tucked casually inside his pockets.
"It's not bad to stare at someone," he said softly. "But if you're going to do it... do it openly."
Alora's face grew warm immediately.
"Sorry, sir. I was only looking in your direction."
Nathaniel looked behind him. "But I don't see anything there."
Alora quickly searched for another excuse. "I was... admiring the place."
"Hmm." He chuckled quietly.
"Alora!" Patricia called as she hurried over, carrying another crate.
Patricia stopped the moment she saw Nathaniel standing beside Alora.
"Forgive me, Your Grace. I didn't mean to interrupt."
"It's alright." Nathaniel looked back at Alora. "Alora... that's a beautiful name."
She blinked before smiling shyly.
"Thank you, Your Grace."
Nathaniel smiled one last time. "I hope to see you again."
With that, he walked away, while Alora remained standing there, confused.
"What just happened?" she whispered.
Patricia stared at her for a second before pulling her toward the carriage.
The ride back felt strangely awkward.
Alora sat beside the window, but she wasn't seeing the road anymore. She kept remembering Nathaniel's smile.
His calm voice.
Those strange green eyes.
And those sharp canines that appeared whenever he smiled.
A strange feeling settled inside her chest-not frightening... peaceful, like calm water flowing across a quiet sea.
Before she realized it...
She was smiling to herself.
The workers exchanged confused looks.
Patricia frowned.
Liam nudged Elina.
Fiona raised an eyebrow.
No one spoke, but the silence inside the carriage suddenly became uncomfortable. Alora noticed everyone looking at her, and her smile disappeared instantly.
She lowered her head for the rest of the journey.
Back at Nathan's Grocery Shop, she immediately buried herself in work, hoping exhaustion would silence her thoughts. She carried baskets inside the storage room to remove vegetables from one of the shelves.
Just then...
She heard her name.
"...Alora."
The voices were low.
Quietly, she followed the sound until she reached another corner of the storage room.
"I noticed she likes men a lot," Liam said.
"Especially handsome nobles," Patricia replied. "Did you see the way she threw herself at that Duke today?"
"She's stupid for doing that," Elina shook her head. "If they give her attention, then she's nothing more than a mistress."
"And she won't even be able to face the public," Fiona laughed. "Not to talk of bringing her children outside... if she even has children with them."
"Even Ambrose threw himself at her," Liam said thoughtfully. "And Roxana ran away. Do you think Roxana knows something we don't?"
"I've been wondering too," Patricia added. "How did Lord Duncan even know, Alora? Talk less of saving her."
"Oh, poor Alora," Liam sighed sarcastically. "She wants to become rich so quickly that she'll end up destroying herself."
The four burst into laughter.
Alora's chest tightened. She wanted to fight them, scream, curse every single one of them. She wanted to run away and never return.
Every emotion hit her at once until she felt like she couldn't breathe.
But instead...
She quietly turned around and walked away and continued working as though she had heard nothing.
When work ended, she left immediately without waiting for anyone.
By the time she reached home, her heart felt unbearably heavy. She took her bath in silence and sat alone inside the room.
Everything that had happened recently flooded her mind.
Lord Duncan.
The green-eyed Duke.
Agnes.
Roxana.
Herbert.
Her father.
The whispers.
The laughter.
She covered her face, trying to stop herself from crying. Then her eyes landed on the box Duncan had given her.
Something inside her broke.
She grabbed the box, rushed outside, and threw it onto the ground.
The dresses spilt out, the beautiful dresses.
"I'm tired of people looking at me like I'm dirty!"
The dresses everyone said were proof she wanted a noble man, with trembling hands. She lit a piece of firewood and threw it onto them.
The flames spread quickly. The golden threads disappeared into orange flames.
She stood there watching the clothes burn, while tears streamed endlessly down her face.
"I'm tired!" she cried. "Every single day... every day, I'm always the topic of discussion."
Her voice cracked.
"I'm so tired... I'm fed up."
She dropped to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.
Irene rushed outside and froze at the sight of the burning clothes.
"Alora!"
She hurried to Alora and pulled her into a tight embrace.
"It's okay, my dear."
Alora clung to her mother like a child.
"But why, Mother? Why is it always me?"
Irene's eyes became watery.
"That's the life of a woman, my dear."
She gently stroked Alora's youthful black hair.
"A woman's greatest enemy is another woman. They'll be the first to call her names, the first to judge her, especially when a man is involved."
Alora cried even harder. "I don't know why they hate me."
"I don't know either," Irene whispered, "but don't let their words become your truth."
She helped Alora to her feet and led her inside the house.
Irene laid her gently on the mat and covered her with a blanket.
Alora's eyes were swollen from crying.
Irene stayed beside her, rubbing her hair softly until her breathing became steady.
Slowly...
Alora drifted off to sleep.