Several collateral branches of the Rothsfield family came one after another to pay their respects to the youngest son—Lawine Rothsfield.
Nobles in mourning attire bowed their heads alongside villagers from the Rothsfield Barony, all gathered for the same reason.
Even those who had only caught glimpses of the boy in his rare outings came. Some remembered his gentle smile. Others, his shy wave. All of them, now, remembered his absence.
A week later, the funeral was held.
It was a day for rain.
The sky wept in place of those who could no longer find the strength to.
Gray clouds blanketed the heavens, and a soft drizzle swept across the courtyard where the casket was displayed. The land that had once bloomed with color now stood washed in muted hues.
“….”
Vanitas stood in the back, beneath a black umbrella, watching quietly.
Edward stood at the front with clear composure, but his eyes were hollow. He hadn’t left his brother’s side since Lawine was laid in the casket.
The ceremony began.
The priest stepped forward, clothed in ceremonial white and silver. He looked across the mourners, then let out a soft breath as he opened the eulogy.
——Lawine Rothsfield was a child born of sorrow… but lived with wonder in his heart.
The priest paused, letting the rain do the speaking for a moment before continuing.
——In his short years, he reminded us of something many forget as we grow older. Hope. Though his body was frail, his spirit reached further than most of us dare. Though he could not roam far, his dreams soared beyond these hills. And though the time he had was brief… he had left behind memories no one would dare to forget.
A few muffled sobs echoed from the villagers.
——To the Goddess Lumine above, we return him now. Let the gates open and guide Lawine’s soul. For even in his passing, Lawine teaches us that to truly live, is to reach out even when you are afraid… and to leave behind something that can bloom, even after you’re gone.
He lowered his hand slowly.
A white cloth was draped over the casket.
Then came the silence.
A long, sorrowful silence interrupted only by the pitter patter of rain against wood.
“….”
And then… Edward stepped forward.
Tak. Tak. Tak.
He stopped before the casket. His fingers over the cloth with trembling hands.
“I was supposed to protect you,” he whispered, barely audible. “I’m sorry, Lawine….”
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small charm carved from an old crystal.
“It was Mother’s,” he said. “You used to steal it from her drawer when you were little. You said it made you feel safe.”
Edward placed it gently on the casket.
“I hope it still does.”
He stepped back.
And with that, the earth opened slowly, and the casket was lowered.
Rain poured.
Heads bowed.
And the boy who once dreamed of blooming flowers was returned to the soil….
….Where, perhaps, one day… something would bloom again.
* * *
The manor was silent.
It was time for Vanitas to leave.
He packed his belongings into his luggage amidst the silence stretching in the manor.
“….”
Not once had he shed a tear for Lawine.
And yet… his chest ached.
——Marquess… Astrea.
The voice came from the doorway.
“….?”
Vanitas turned slightly, spotting Edward standing beside the door, which hung slightly ajar. The young Baron looked weary with wrinkled clothes, his eyes red-rimmed.
“Are you really leaving?” Edward asked. “It’s… a shame. We could’ve held a proper dinner. Lawine would’ve liked that. He was… very fond of you.”
Vanitas paused for a moment before replying.
“I have duties waiting for me in the capital,” he said, turning back to close his luggage. “My little sister is likely missing me already.”
Edward gave a slow nod, stepping farther into the room.
“I understand,” he murmured. “Still… I wanted to thank you. For everything. You taught him more than anyone ever could.”
He hesitated, his face darkening.
“Though I suppose that’s a failure on my part. And with this ‘thank you,’ I suppose I also need to apologize… if this request burdened you too much.”
Vanitas didn’t answer immediately.
He pulled the zipper closed and straightened up, brushing imaginary dust from his coat.
“I didn’t do it out of kindness,” Vanitas began. “I chose this commission for my own reasons. But Lawine… he was a remarkable boy.”
Edward looked down, a sad smile tugging faintly at his lips. “He really was.”
A silence stretched between them.
Then Vanitas turned toward the door, pausing beside Edward. He reached into his coat pocket and held out a folded piece of parchment.
Edward glanced at it, brows slightly furrowed. “What’s this?”
“I didn’t intend to keep it from you. But… it was Lawine’s request. He asked me to give it to you before I left the manor.”
Edward stared at the paper.
On the very day Lawine passed, while Edward was away and shortly after Vanitas had spoken with the doctor, the boy entrusted him with a letter to be given to his brother that afternoon.
“….”
With trembling fingers, Edward reached out and took the letter.
He didn’t open it right away. His hands shook too much. He simply stood there, as if trying to brace himself.
Vanitas watched for a moment longer, then gently placed a hand on Edward’s shoulder.
“If you ever come to the capital,” he said, “you’ll always be welcome at House Astrea.”
Edward didn’t look up right away. His eyes remained fixed on the letter.
“Thank you,” he murmured at last.
Vanitas offered a slight nod, then turned to leave, disappearing down the hall.
Behind him, Edward stood alone.
“….”
It didn’t take long before the sound of quiet, muffled sobs echoed faintly through the corridor.
* * *
Vanitas arrived at the train station by carriage, purchased his ticket, waited, and eventually boarded the train bound for Aetherion.
He took his seat, placing his luggage in front of him. There was plenty to think about—too much, in fact—but he didn’t want to think at all.
Another student of his had died.
“….”
He should have been used to it by now.
In his past life, death was the norm for him. He had lost several comrades. Loved ones. And lived a life where danger lurked around every corner.
It was to the point he had grown numb to the inevitability of death.
And yet, something still pressed heavy in his chest.
“….”
He lowered his gaze to the folded paper in his hands. A graded evaluation. The final report for the student he had been commissioned to tutor. It was to be submitted to the Scholars Institute once he returned.
Vanitas reached into his coat and retrieved his fountain pen. A sleek black pen with the name “Vanitas” carefully engraved on its barrel. It was a gift from Charlotte on his 27th birthday.
He stared at it for a long moment before uncapping it.
Then, without a word, he began to write.
A sorrowful smile tugged at the corners of his lips as the pen glided across the page.
Scritch. Scratch.
A perfect evaluation.
Lawine was a remarkable boy, both intellectually and in terms of patience. He always listened closely and did his best to grasp each lesson. He even often went out of his way to study on his own.
Vanitas had found him more than once in the manor’s library, completely absorbed in magic textbooks far too advanced for someone his age.
There were instances when Vanitas would step in and offer his help when the material became too dense, or the words too difficult to pronounce. Lawine never once complained, nor did he ever give up.
“….”
He folded the report carefully and reached down to place it inside his luggage when something else slipped free and fluttered to the floor.
His eyes narrowed.
A single sheet of paper.
He bent down, picked it up, and turned it over in his hands.
To: Professor Vanitas
“….”
A letter.
For a moment, he didn’t move and just stared at the name written on the front. He didn’t think Lawine would have left something for him as well, considering they only knew each other for a month.
Then, slowly, he opened it.
“….”
——
Dear Professor,
If you’re reading this… then I probably can’t say thank you in person anymore. So I’ll say it here.
Thank you for teaching me magic. For not giving up on me when everyone else did. You said I was a good kid and I believed you. That was the first time I ever felt proud of myself.
At first, I was scared of you. You looked strict, and your eyes were always serious. I didn’t want to go to our lessons because of that.
I thought maybe you’d leave too, like the others. Maybe you’d think I was hopeless. Maybe you’d realize I wasn’t worth the effort.
But you stayed.
Even when I couldn’t light the orb. Even when I got the answers wrong. Even when I coughed and ruined the whole session, you stayed.
You kept showing up, even when I could barely sit up in bed. You kept talking to me, answering my questions, even when I was too tired to understand.
And you never pitied me. Not even once.
Thank you for showing me the flowers that day.
I never thought I’d get to see them again. But I did. You brought them back. And for a moment, I felt like I was with my family again. Like nothing had changed. Like I wasn’t sick. Like I had all the time in the world.
It was so beautiful, Professor. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. Because I didn’t want you to worry.
That moment will stay with me wherever I go as one of my happiest memories.
So if I’m gone now… please don’t be sad, Professor.
You don’t have to remember me forever. But if you ever pass by the fields again… maybe smile.
Thank you for being my teacher.
Thank you for being there.
PS: I hope you’ll like the little gift I left behind.
—Lawine Rothsfield
——
Vanitas stared at the letter for what felt like forever. His hands, which were usually so steady, trembled slightly around the page.
‘Gift…?’
His eyes scanned the parchment again and noticed it.
Faintly etched near the bottom corner was a small, incomplete magic circuit. The lines were uneven like a child’s drawing.
“….Lawine.”
A whisper.
As if saying the boy’s name might somehow bring him back.
He placed his hand over the circuit and gently released his mana.
A faint glow emerged… and from the center of the letter, a single flower bloomed into existence.
It was blue, delicate, alive.
….And so impossibly fragile, like it would break under his grip.
“….”
He didn’t know what to feel.
But something inside him cracked.
Outside, the world rushed by in streaks of green and gray like a blur.
“….”
And for the first time in forever….
Drip.
….A single tear slid down Vanitas’s cheek.
* * *
Vanitas returned to the estate in silence.
“W-Welcome home, Lord Astrea!”
The Illenia Knights stationed at the gate quickly stepped aside as the gates opened. Each of them bowed respectfully.
But Vanitas gave no reply. He simply walked forward, one hand gripping an umbrella, the other pulling his luggage behind him as the rain pattered softly above.
One of the knights stepped forward cautiously.
“Allow me, my lord,” he said, reaching to take the umbrella and the luggage.
Vanitas paused, then handed over the luggage without a word. He kept the umbrella.
The knight respectfully bowed again, falling in step behind him.
As he stepped into the manor, the warm light from inside barely reached him. Servants lining the entrance bowed politely and murmured their greetings, but sensing the air around their lord, none dared speak further.
“Where’s Charlotte?” he asked.
“She’s at the university tower at the moment, my lord.”
“I see.”
Without another word, Vanitas passed by them and ascended the stairs.
When he reached his study, he entered and quietly shut the door behind him. For a moment, he leaned against it, letting out a long, tired breath.
Then he crossed the room and sat at his desk.
With care, he placed a small bundle wrapped in cloth on the table, tied with a delicate ribbon.
He stared at it for a moment in silence before slowly untying it.
“….”
Inside was a single, fresh blue flower.
His gaze softened.
A line from Lawine’s letter echoed in his mind. One he had glossed past earlier.
‘I noticed you were staring at all the blue flowers that day, professor. Blue must be your favorite color.’
Vanitas lowered his eyes.
“….”
It wasn’t.
Not really.
But it reminded him of someone.
Someone he had lost to circumstances beyond his control.
….Someone only the gods knew where she was now.