Chapter 9: Glimpses Of The Past

After agreeing on a spot to sit and work, the three of them made their way there.

Oleander walked ahead, guiding them with a slight smile, occasionally greeting the servants who crossed their path. Watching this interaction made Dorothy giddy—like a girl experiencing transmigration into another world. This was an entirely different side of Oleander, a life Dorothy had never seen up close before.

The princess herself was someone with a solid identity—Dorothy was convinced Oleander never had trouble navigating high society. But curiosity gnawed at her. How had such a wealthy heiress ended up in a mediocre university? Not that her education path was flawed, but weren’t there more prestigious universities where children of the elite typically earned their degrees?

The silence stretched for about five minutes before Azel finally broke it.

"Those sculptures... the ones I saw on the way here—"

Oleander glanced back, her smile widening, eyes twinkling with excitement at her favorite topic. "I know, right? Whoever made them is incredibly skilled. The detail on that piece? Mesmerizing. Surprisingly, I only noticed them today as well. Since this estate belongs to my grandfather, I rarely come by. But I was thinking of asking the butler who the artist was."

Azel stumbled slightly under the weight of her compliments. Should he tell her it was him? Then again, he and Oleander had never been particularly close—they had hardly worked on any projects together. Besides, her work was more professional than his, with two award wins under her belt. Her carving technique was sharp yet rough, creating a realism unique to her style, whereas he focused more on achieving anatomical perfection in sculpture.

"Y-yeah..." Azel gulped, his words catching in his throat. The only response he managed was a half-muttered, incoherent mess.

Dorothy smirked, knowing full well why. The artist Oleander was praising so highly was, in fact, standing right beside them, red-faced and flustered.

Eventually, they reached a pavilion near a wide grassy patch overlooking the lake. Settling in, they got to work on their rough sketches.

Forty minutes passed. Their canvases had started taking shape. Oleander’s hand moved at a frenzied pace, her strokes wild and untamed, in stark contrast to Dorothy and Azel, who took their time, carefully contemplating every detail. Their surrealism felt vibrant, a depiction of life in its most serene and freeing form.

Then suddenly, something shifted within Oleander.

(It’s here.)

Her focus transcended beyond reality, and she felt as though she was slipping—her hand no longer her own, moving with an unseen force.

Dorothy, hopeful that they were making progress, stretched her arms above her head. "Let's check what you guys have done so far—"

She turned to Oleander’s piece and nearly jumped.

"BRUH! Your piece doesn’t match ours at all! Tenebrism wasn’t supposed to be used here! An—and is that a… plate?"

She stepped closer for a better look.

Oleander remained unresponsive, her hand still working on the finer details.

"It’s a gong, Dorothy," Azel supplied. He had been watching her for the past ten minutes, debating whether to interrupt. Something about the painting captivated him—dark, mysterious, yet lonely. Still, they were clearly straying from the assignment, so he tapped Oleander’s shoulder.

"Hey, we’re deviating from our theme."

Oleander snapped out of her trance, momentarily dazed. What just happened?

Azel and Dorothy stared at her, puzzled, a hint of concern in their expressions. She glanced down at her work and cursed internally. This isn’t what I wanted to paint!

A dark aura surrounded a beautifully crafted gong, the shades of grass blending seamlessly into the misty background.

Let’s salvage this. Act like nothing’s wrong.

"What? Didn't we decide on the theme ‘Dynasty’?" she asked, feigning nonchalance. Okay, she is sure to be caught by this horrendous acting.

She knew she had messed up. The urge to draw—no, the need—had gotten the better of her. Her ability had surfaced at the wrong time: prediction.

Yes, you heard right. She had the ability to predict.

Ever since she regained consciousness after the kidnapping, she had realized she could predict certain events. Her life had flipped overnight, transforming her from the sweet, docile girl she once was into something else—something more erratic.

"You—you’re a monster!"

A distant memory emerged out of nowhere, then disappeared just as suddenly.

Her mood plummeted.

The assignment was finished, but the problem remained. Their paintings, when put together, resembled pieces of a puzzle. However, due to Oleander’s darker color palette, her work clashed with Dorothy’s and Azel’s, making their collective effort lack harmony.

Noticing the sun dipping lower in the sky, she seized the opportunity to escape.

"Let’s wrap up for today. We can complete the assignment at my house. We’ve got the basics down—let’s take a break, eat, and then continue later."

Right on cue, Azel’s stomach let out a soft growl.

Hearing this, Dorothy smirked while packing up. "Someone’s giving his approval, huh?"

Azel’s neck turned red.

As they made their way inside, Oleander thought to herself:

After they leave, I need to decipher this.

---

Later in the evening

The food had been wiped clean, mostly thanks to Dorothy Phil, who now patted her stomach in utter contentment.

"It’s been ages since I had Michelin-star food," she sighed happily.

The maids cleaning up stifled their laughter. If only she knew the truth. Would she be shocked to learn that the one who prepared the meal was none other than their host?

What kind of noble lady cooks for her guests? They had gotten lucky today, able to enjoy a meal made by their young miss.

As the chef wheeled in the croquembouche, Dorothy’s eyes sparkled.

"Yum! Oh wow, look at the candy floss around it!"

Oleander elegantly dabbed her mouth with a napkin, a smile playing at her lips. "Enjoy. I made this especially for you guys. They’re not heavy, so you can have four or five mini bite-sized pieces—"

"WHAT? You mean to tell me you cooked all this?" Dorothy gawked.

Azel, meanwhile, quietly plucked a cream puff, lost in thought.

Oleander turned her head slightly, looking a bit shy. "Yes..."

"Wow, I didn’t know you could cook! If I had known, those three years we spent eating cold cafeteria sandwiches would’ve been different. You totally should’ve made me lunch!" Dorothy teased playfully.

Oleander let out a light, genuine laugh.

A gasp escaped, though it was drowned out by Dorothy’s chatter. But Azel caught it.

His gaze flickered to Isla, the head maid. She had covered her mouth, light tears pooling in her eyes.

Strange. Why was she reacting so strongly to a simple laugh?

Plucking another cream puff, he chewed thoughtfully. Could he take some home?

Meanwhile, Isla slowly backed out of the room as the conversation continued. Once outside, she closed the door behind her, letting the hallway fall silent.

The young miss had laughed.

True, it wasn’t the first time, but this one—it had been real.

Guilt settled heavily in her heart.

She should have gone with the young miss that day. But Master Bleiz had been sick, and she had stayed behind to care for him. Both of them had grown up under her care, but because Bleiz had been born weak, he had always been the priority.

On the day of the kidnapping, she had remained behind, knowing full well that Oleander’s parents were practically estranged from their daughter. After she was born they had been too busy, caught up in their business, always traveling.

That day she had only been placing a cold towel on Bleiz’s forehead when the shouts of the servants rang through the halls.

That was when she learned that the young miss had vanished. Kidnapped.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she remembered how they had found Oleander—malnourished, dirty, dressed in tattered clothes.

But worst of all…

Her once-bright caramel-brown eyes had lost their spark.

After that day, the young miss had changed.

Aloof. Isolated. Independent.

And utterly devoid of the childish innocence she once had.