Vol 1 Chapter 20: The Petals That Bloomed After Clara’s Departure

The Traces of Memories Left Behind…

A few days after Clara’s departure to the capital… wild white roses bloomed in front of the wooden house. Their pale petals swayed gently in the morning breeze.

The wind carried the scent of roses, brushing against the fluttering window curtains. Beneath those curtains, a small girl rubbed her eyes on the bed.

Caelan woke up as usual. Her hair was still messy, and her tiny eyes were only half open with sleep. But she immediately turned toward the window.

Marry sat at the edge of her daughter’s bed, combing the silver hair of her little girl. Then a sweet voice called out to her.

“Clara isn’t back yet, right?”

Marry’s hand stopped mid-stroke. The question was simple and innocent—yet it tightened her chest.

She gently stroked her daughter’s head.

“Clara had to return to the capital. There’s a lot of work she needs to finish,” she said softly.

Caelan lowered her head, cheeks puffing in a sulky pout.

“When will Clara become part of our family, Mom?”

Marry held her breath. She hugged her daughter from behind before letting out a small chuckle.

“Caelan wants an older sister?”

Caelan nodded enthusiastically. She turned to look at her mother, her blue eyes sparkling.

“Yes, but Caelan only wants Big Sis Clara.”

Marry gently cupped her daughter’s face.

“Why does Caelan want Clara to be your big sister?”

Caelan lifted her tiny hands into the air.

“Because only Big Sis Clara can catch bad guys as a detective and still play peek-a-boo with Caelan, Mom!”

Marry smiled softly, a warm flutter lingering in her chest. She still remembered meeting Clara, the gentle detective girl who was always kind to children, especially little girls.

She remembered how Clara had protected the children during the bloody siege ten years ago.

“Clara… my daughter misses you. What am I supposed to do?” Marry wondered.

She pinched Caelan’s cheek gently, the soft skin like mochi beneath her fingers.

“In that case… Caelan can write a letter to Big Sis Clara. Mama will teach you.”

Caelan nodded eagerly.

“Mommy is the best.” She hugged Marry tightly. “Caelan loves Mommy so, so much.”

Warmth spread through Marry’s chest. For a moment, time seemed to stop—witnessing the affection of a mother and her beloved daughter.

Then Marry lightly tapped her daughter’s back and whispered, “Caelan is Mama’s daughter.”

—

A Few Days Later…

The days passed in their normal routine. Marry tended to her little girl—waking her, cleaning her, feeding her, taking her for walks around the village. And now, there was one more daily activity: teaching Caelan how to write a letter.

Marry taught her with patience and gentleness. Caelan’s handwriting was still rough scribbles, but slowly, it began to improve.

Marry never forgot to praise every bit of progress. She even rewarded her daughter with her favourite white pumpkin soup after Caelan finished her letter-writing practice.

That afternoon, Marry prepared another batch of herbal remedies ordered by the village elders. She laid rose petals to dry in the yard. Caelan helped her arrange the petals neatly on the drying board.

Marry placed the board on the clothesline pole and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

“All done.” Marry turned to her daughter. “Now… what does Caelan want to play?”

“Caelan wants to draw under the tree with Mommy,” Caelan said, pointing at the oak tree behind the house.

Marry smiled. “Alright. Mama will draw with Caelan.”

“Hooray! Caelan draws with Mommy!” the little girl chirped.

Hand in hand, they walked back into the house. Moments later, the mother and daughter returned carrying a mat, a small table, and drawing supplies.

Marry spread the mat beneath the oak tree and set the small table on top. She handed Caelan paper, pencils, erasers, and crayons.

“You can draw with these, honey. Mama will sit next to you,” she said gently.

“Caelan wants to draw Mommy, Caelan, and Clara holding hands.”

Marry chuckled softly and patted her daughter’s head.

“Alright. Mama can’t wait to see it. We’ll hang your drawing in your room later.”

“Yay!” Caelan sat on the mat, her hands immediately busy on the paper.

Her round eyes focused intently as she picked up crayons and began colouring.

While Caelan drew, Marry leaned against the oak tree, her posture relaxed and peaceful. She gazed at the sky, turning slowly orange.

“A few days ago… Clara, Caelan, and I had a picnic here. Time really flies,” Marry thought.

…

Marry sat quietly for a moment, savouring the peaceful time with her daughter. But then a small voice called for her. She turned and saw Caelan holding up her drawing with both tiny hands.

“Look, Mom. Caelan’s picture is finished!” she said proudly.

Marry smiled at the red crayon smudges on her daughter’s cheeks. But her eyes widened when she saw the drawing—three figures holding hands, laughing together in a field of roses.

Marry, Caelan, and Clara.

The drawing was messy, full of childish scribbles, but their identities were unmistakable.

Marry—tall and slender, long silver hair, a dress of rose petals.

Caelan—small, long silver hair, a simple pink dress.

Clara—medium height, slim, with a purple ponytail and the black uniform of a royal investigator.

“My daughter’s drawing is beautiful,” Marry praised. “Mama will put it in a frame so you can display it in your room.”

“Here, Mom.” Caelan handed the drawing to her. “Hurry and put it in a frame. Caelan can’t wait!”

Marry took the drawing and laughed softly. She held it carefully.

She stared at it for a long moment. She could feel how far she had come—from a feared executioner known across the continent… to a mother who could finally look toward the future.

Marry hugged the drawing to her chest and whispered,

“I hope this peace can continue.”

A simple wish, from the bloodiest person in the valley. The evening wind blew, lifting her silver hair—carrying her prayer gently into the sky above the Rose Valley.

—

The Next Day…

The following morning, Marry headed to the village with Caelan. She carried neatly arranged herbal medicines inside a wooden box. They walked slowly down the hill.

Along the way, Caelan hummed a soft tune while hopping lightly across the green grass.

“Lala… lalala…” Caelan hummed.

Marry chuckled, watching her daughter again.

“Careful, honey. The ground is slippery.”

“Okay, Mom,” Caelan answered cheerfully.

Marry continued down the path toward the village. On her right, wild roses stretched along the roadside. Dew still clung to the petals. And then—

"Screeech…"

The shadow of a hawk swept across the rose fields, followed by a sharp cry.

Marry froze. Her blue eyes narrowed toward the sky, where a hawk flew low. A small scroll was tied to its leg, sealed with a rose emblem.

The hawk flew toward the village elder’s house at the edge of the settlement. Marry swallowed unconsciously.

“A letter from the capital?! It can’t be from Elvyn… right?” she thought.

Marry drew a slow breath, then quickened her steps and gently pulled Caelan’s hand.

“Mommy?” Caelan asked innocently.

“We need to go to the elder’s house, honey,” Marry said, her tone slightly tense.

She placed the wooden box of herbs on the grass for a moment. Then she lifted Caelan into her arms with her right hand and took the box again with her left.

“Hold on tight, honey.”

“Okay, Mom,” Caelan said obediently, wrapping her tiny arms around her mother’s neck.

Marry tightened her hold. She glanced left and right, ensuring no one was watching. Then she stomped lightly on the ground—just enough for the soil to crack beneath her heel.

She shot forward like a racing horse. When Marry vanished from sight, only cracked earth and drifting dust remained in the morning air.

Moments later, Marry slowed as she approached the village houses. Her steps grew elegant and composed as she neared a simple two-story wooden home.

She stood before the door carved with rose motifs.

"Knock… knock…"

She tapped it softly. No answer. Her shoulders tensed slightly. Then—

The door creaked open, revealing an elderly man. His black hair was streaked with grey, and he wore plain linen clothes.

The old man froze for a moment, taking in the silver-haired woman carrying her daughter while holding a box of herbs.

“Mrs Marry…”

“I’ve brought the herbal medicines you ordered, sir,” Marry said softly, offering the box to him.

“Please, come in, Mrs Marry,” the village elder said kindly.

He slipped a yellow sheet of paper into his pocket before taking the medicine box.

“No need to trouble yourself, sir,” Marry said with a gentle smile as her eyes caught the yellow paper. “By the way… that paper—”

The elder glanced at the note in his pocket.

“Oh, this? It just arrived from the capital. I’ve finished reading it.”

“From the capital?! From Miss Clara?!” Marry asked.

“No. It’s from Prince Elvyn.” The elder paused, noticing the way Marry looked at the paper.

“Here, Mrs Marry. It seems Miss Clara has finished her investigation here. Prince Elvyn appears satisfied with her work.”

“Thank you, sir.” Marry gave a faint smile and accepted the paper.

Her hands trembled slightly as she held it. Her blue eyes scanned each line.

“We have received Detective Clara’s report. There is nothing to be concerned about. Please continue keeping the village peaceful.” — Prince Elvyn El Rose.

Marry lowered the paper with a relieved breath. So her younger brother, Elvyn, still hadn’t remembered her.

Caelan tilted her head in Marry’s arms, pressing her finger to her chin as if imitating an adult.

“Mom… who is that letter from?”

Marry smiled softly.

“It’s from the royal prince, honey.”

“The royal prince?! Does Mommy know the prince?” Caelan asked with innocent curiosity.

The question made Marry’s shoulders tense for a moment—but she quickly stroked her daughter’s head.

“The prince doesn’t know Mama, honey,” Marry said gently. “Would Caelan like to meet the prince?”

Caelan immediately shook her head.

“No, Mom. Caelan likes meeting Big Sis Clara more. She plays with Caelan,” she replied simply.

Marry let out a soft laugh.

“Caelan really is Mama’s daughter.”

The elder smiled warmly at their exchange, stroking his beard.

“Your little daughter is truly sweet, Mrs Marry. I wish I had a granddaughter as lovely as Caelan.”

He turned and walked inside. “Wait a moment, mrs. I’ll fetch something.”

…

A moment later, he returned holding a small leather pouch in one hand and a colourful little paper box in the other. He offered them to Marry.

“This is payment for the medicine,” he said.

Marry accepted the pouch. The clinking of coins inside rang softly.

Then the elder handed the small box to Caelan.

“And this… is candy for little Caelan.”

“Waaah… thank you, Grandpa,” Caelan said, hugging the candy box tightly.

“Candy is expensive. Are you sure you want to give it to my daughter, sir?” Marry asked.

The elder waved his hands lightly from side to side.

“It’s fine, Mrs Marry. I consider Caelan like my own granddaughter. I hope she grows up healthy and happy,” he said sincerely.

Marry nodded gently.

“Thank you, sir. We’ll take our leave.”

She looked at the child in her arms.

“Honey, say goodbye to Grandpa.”

“Goodbye, Grandpa,” Caelan said sweetly.

Marry walked slowly out of the village, making her way back to the small house on the hill.

…

That night, Caelan slept soundly. Marry kissed her daughter’s forehead and pulled a white blanket over her.

Then she stepped outside to the balcony, sitting alone beneath the night sky. The stars glittered—just like they had seven years ago, before the world forgot its sins.

But her heart was no longer bound to that night. No blood. No victims’ screams. No criminals’ despair. Only Caelan’s laughter inside a wooden house in a quiet valley.

Marry hugged her knees and gazed at the gently swaying oak tree. That was where she, Clara, and Caelan had spent time together just days ago.

She closed her eyes. “Clara… if you ever return, I will welcome you,” she whispered.

Marry opened her eyes again. She took out the yellow paper from her younger brother, Elvyn.

She stared at it for a long time. Her blue eyes shimmered with the faintest tears. Then she shook her head softly.

“Elvyn… how are you? I hope you’re happy there… even without me,” she murmured.

The night wind carried her voice eastward—toward the capital where Elvyn lived. An older sister’s prayer, small and quiet, drifting through a world that had forgotten its sins.

Marry held the yellow paper tightly, feeling the lingering warmth of her only younger brother behind the royal ink.

Author's Note: This chapter has been rewritten.