Inside the purple-hued garden, the fragrance of lavender brushed the tip of her nose.
Suddenly, a massive dark shadow fell over her head.
An immense bird was soaring through the sky, vast enough to blot out the heavens.
Its scarlet body, like fire incarnate, stood in stark relief against the blue sky.
Its crested head was a bright orange, while the long, sweeping tail feathers burned with deep, flame-like crimson.
‘It can’t be… Is that Lemon all grown up?’
The crimson bird let out a long, piercing cry—“Piii—”—and banked in a wide circle through the air.
Then, beating its vast wings, it descended slowly to the earth.
Dalia was struck with wonder at its magnificent appearance, but as was always the case in her dreams, she could not utter a word.
“Are you still waiting for him?”
When the crimson bird parted its beak, human words emerged.
Dalia stared at Lemon in sheer astonishment.
‘Lemon can talk? Then who is he speaking to? Is there someone behind me?’
Yet just as always in these dreams, she could not turn her head.
“And he won’t even look at you properly…”
Lemon thumped his chest repeatedly with a broad wing, as if overcome with frustration.
At the sight, a gentle smile touched Dalia’s lips.
Whether a tiny chick or a fully grown bird, he beat his chest the very same way whenever he was vexed.
“Lemon…”
Dalia slowly lifted her eyelids.
“Peep, peep.”
Lemon was right before her eyes.
The palm-sized little bird tilted his head from side to side, as though asking why she had called him.
Her dreams always showed the future.
This adorable little bird would one day grow to such an immense size, so breathtakingly magnificent.
So who had Lemon been speaking with so naturally?
Dalia stared into Lemon’s red eyes for a long moment, then broke into a wide smile.
Lemon, without understanding why, chirped a pleased response.
“Peep, peep.”
“Lemon, you were truly huge.”
Dalia stretched her arms wide to demonstrate his size.
“Peep, peep!”
Lemon puffed his chest and raised his head proudly, as if to say, Did you only just realize that?
Dalia laughed softly, petting his head repeatedly out of sheer affection.
“Lemon, you really are handsome.”
“Peep, peep.”
Lemon chirped in a clear, bright tone, lightly tapping his tail against the surface as though begging for more.
“Lemon, you’re so cute and so very lovely.”
Just as Dalia was indulging his demand for praise—
“And since when has a lemon been such a remarkable fruit?”
Dalia’s hand froze mid-stroke.
Lemon, perched on her hand, took in the situation in a flash and fluttered off into the distance.
Dalia turned her neck with deliberate, stiff slowness.
“It is an honor to see you, Your Majesty.”
The Emperor offered a careless nod in return, his gaze already wandering toward the sweets laid out on the table.
Dalia followed his eyes, then quickly pointed toward the thin slices of lemon.
“I love lemons!”
“So it seems.”
The Emperor seated himself opposite her and pushed the dish of lemon slices in her direction.
“This is what you find cute… and lovely?”
“Don’t you think these delicate little lemon slices are darling?”
Dalia rested a slice of lemon on her palm, holding it up as though on display.
“Does the lady find everything in this world adorable?”
At his question, the Lady of the Pink Flower Field paused in deep thought, then nodded vigorously.
“Yes, I believe I do.”
“Even if it has an end?”
At the edge of his cold gaze lay the neatly carved lemon slice.
Dalia, whose mind was always impossible to fathom, hesitated before slowly opening her mouth.
“That is precisely why it is precious, and all the more worthy of love. Because we never know when the end will come. That is why I believe we must love with all our hearts.”
Gray stared at her, caught off guard.
It was the first time he had seen such gravity in that eccentric young woman.
Gray turned his gaze back to the lemon.
Ethan, the only person permitted entry here, had prepared everything beforehand.
‘A woman who loves even a sliced lemon…’
Because his own end was already set in stone, he never gave his heart to anything.
Yet she claimed that having an end was precisely why she gave all her love.
It was baffling.
‘Can two people truly be so entirely opposite?’
Drawn as if by an unseen pull, his eyes settled on her clear gaze.
An unsettling sensation had nagged at him ever since their encounter the day before, which was why he had summoned her again.
Even so, when he had told her to come to this garden, he had not been entirely certain she would manage to enter a second time.
Yet once more, she had walked straight into the garden without meeting the slightest resistance.
‘What is this woman, truly? Did the garden admit her simply because she is so peculiar? Nonsense.’
“How were you raised, Miss?”
The Lady of the Pink Flower Field carefully set the lemon slice back down, looking at him with an expression of puzzled curiosity.
“Whatever made you ask such a question so suddenly?”
“It seems to me you were raised in isolation from the world. Quite freely. And yet, though you are a noble, you sit upon the ground, roll about, and sleep there.”
His eyes drifted to her hair.
Since there were no green leaves tangled in it today, she had evidently refrained from rolling on the dirt.
A blush began to creep across her cheeks.
“Could you keep that last part a secret?”
“From whom?”
“From Annie… She will scold me.”
“I doubt I have ever seen you take a scolding.”
“Well… the truth is, I was raised a bit spoiled.”
The Lady of the Pink Flower Field nodded to herself in firm agreement.
“Raised spoiled, and yet you keep yourself so close to the dirt?”
“Shall we say I was raised with great freedom, then? How does that sound?”
Her tone carried an unmistakable hint of ‘I’ll give you whatever answer satisfies you,’ which coaxed a faint smile from Gray.
“Oh? You smiled.”
“I am always smiling.”
Gray broadened his grin with deliberate exaggeration.
“That looks rather forced, though…”
“And the lady dares speak so boldly to the Emperor without the slightest hesitation.”
At his pointed remark, she averted her eyes slightly.
No matter that she hailed from a branch family, she was still an unmarried daughter of a noble house, yet she showed no fear toward the Emperor.
Anyone watching would assume she carried imperial blood—or royal blood at the very least.
Had the Herdlan line ever intermingled with royalty in the past?
‘I must look into this.’
Gray set the hourglass in his hand onto the table with a soft clack.
“I will grant this second meeting five minutes.”
“That is far too short!”
Gray leaned back lazily against his chair.
“We are hardly on a romantic tryst, so why should we require any longer?”
“Well, that is true, but…”
“The acquaintance the lady so desired… you may begin.”
She drew a deep breath, opened her notebook with eager determination, and took up her quill.
‘And when did she prepare all that? Is she going to pen a love letter with that quill?’
Gray frowned faintly, banishing such pointless thoughts from his mind.
“What is your favorite food?”
“None.”
“And your favorite musical instrument?”
“None.”
Gray answered with polite composure, deadpan and serious.
Signs of dissatisfaction crossed her face, and she caught her lower lip gently between her teeth.
Her soft, rosy lips pressed together against her teeth, appearing all the fuller.
Without realizing it, Gray found his gaze drawn to her mouth, and he hastily pulled his eyes upward.
“Do you truly have no tastes or preferences at all, Your Majesty?”
She peered at him with a sidelong glance.
“And do you, Miss, love everything under the sun?”
“Of course! My favorite dish is coq au vin simmered in rich wine, and roast chicken generously coated in herbs and olive oil, and pollo alla diavola made with minced chicken and vegetables tossed in spicy sauce, and then—”
“It seems the lady is remarkably fond of chicken.”
“I am! What about you?”
When she looked up at him with those bright, glistening eyes, Gray turned his gaze toward the hourglass.
“Is inquiring after my culinary tastes truly the acquaintance you wished for, Miss?”
The Lady of the Pink Flower Field hesitated for a moment, her expression turning earnest, before she asked:
“Well… then what sort of woman is your ideal type?”
“There is no—”
“Don’t you dare say none!”
She cut in hastily, cutting the words off right in his throat.
Gray curled one corner of his lips in a wry smirk.
“It seems there truly isn’t one.”
“That is the exact same thing!”
