SFYF 07

Chapter 7

Ena let out a sigh-like murmur. Christoph slowly turned only his eyes to look at her. Ena, pale as a sheet, closed her eyes with a look of utter despair.

“If Marien ran away of her own will and doesn’t want anyone to find her, she’ll never contact us. She knows you’d be the first person she’d come to. My daughter, Marien… is a clever girl.”

“…….”

Ena was right. Marien was the cleverest child of them all.

When she had enrolled in law school, how proudly Fabian had walked around, shoulders held high. The amount he’d spent treating his colleagues to drinks that day alone must have equaled a month’s salary.

For the first time, Christoph looked genuinely flustered at this unexpected realization. His usual indifference crumbled, and a flicker of anxiety appeared in his dark eyes.

Even in his furious state, he had never once considered the possibility of failing to find Marien. She had always remained within the boundaries of his expectations, and reclaiming her had seemed merely a matter of time.

But what if she ultimately never contacted Fabian or Ena? What if she simply vanished like smoke?

Fabian watched Christoph, who was anxiously rubbing his lips with his thin hand, with a puzzled expression. The eyes that were always filled with certainty now trembled helplessly.

Christoph looked as anxious as a child who’d lost his mother’s hand in a marketplace—like a frightened child who didn’t know where to go.

Ah, Marien. What on earth have you done?

Fabian covered his eyes with his palm. Christoph’s voice pierced through his ears.

It was no longer the sharp, icy tone from just moments ago. It was a voice filled with anxiety and fear. Unbelievable as it was, it was true.

“Then… where should we look for Marien?”

His words came out haltingly. Christoph had finally realized he knew nothing about Marien.

He didn’t know her favorite places, who she spent time with, or whether she even had a friend she could turn to for help. He knew none of it.

Christoph sank into deep despair, like a shipwrecked sailor adrift on an endless sea, clinging to broken splinters of wood. Then, with desperate eyes, he looked at Fabian, hoping for an answer to his question.

Fabian let out a heavy sigh and lowered the hand that had been covering his eyes. Christoph, his expression utterly blank, stared at him. His persistent gaze clung stubbornly to Fabian’s lips.

“How could we possibly know what Lord Schneider doesn’t know himself?”

“…….”

Watching the shadow of sorrow slowly settle over Christoph’s pale face, Fabian sighed deeply once more.

Christoph stood rooted to the spot, his fists clenched so tightly they turned white. He looked so utterly heartbroken that Fabian almost felt as if the ground beneath Christoph’s feet were crumbling away.

Marien, where on earth are you?

Fabian stared blankly out the window, having completely forgotten that he was already late for work.

After a long while, Christoph finally snapped out of his daze and hurriedly left the house. The sound of a car driving away could be heard.

“Darling.”

Ena called out to him in a voice choked with tears. Fabian gently pulled his trembling wife into his arms.

Ena, who had been quietly sobbing, buried her face in his chest and whispered softly,

“Where could our poor child be? She probably has no one to turn to for help… What could Marien possibly be thinking?”

“I don’t know.”

Suddenly, Marien’s image flashed in his mind—her vehemently insisting that Veronica’s death hadn’t been suicide. Though no one had listened, Marien had never relented.

“Perhaps…”

Fabian couldn’t finish his sentence. He closed his eyes with a pained expression, gazing upward into empty space. Suddenly, he recalled the saying: trials never come alone.

He murmured a quiet prayer for his daughter, whose whereabouts remained unknown.

The car slipped smoothly through the wide-open gates. As the engine roared louder, the mansion sank into a profound silence—no one dared disturb the master’s mood.

Seeing Christoph’s corpse-like pallor, Martin realized they hadn’t found Marien at the Clozier residence either. A deep sigh settled into his wrinkled eyes.

Christoph stepped out of the car, his face lost in thought, and walked with heavy steps. Martin followed silently behind him.

Where should he even begin searching? Had Marien been close to Madam Engel?

Suddenly, Christoph halted and frowned. No. If it were Marien, she wouldn’t seek help from Madam Engel at the cost of becoming gossip in high society.

She had a strong sense of responsibility. Even after throwing the divorce papers at him, she wouldn’t have tossed the Schneider name to the social wolves.

Then, where had she gone?

Christoph headed straight for his study. Martin opened the door a step ahead of him. In the next moment—

“…….”

He froze.

Christoph’s steps stopped abruptly. The first thing that struck him as strange was an unfamiliar scent—the fragrance of flowers drifting through the room.

Only then did his gaze slowly shift toward the desk—more precisely, toward the bouquet of purple flowers resting upon it.

“What is that?”

Christoph’s voice was as grim as that of someone clawing his way up from hell. Martin looked back and forth between the flowers and Christoph, bewildered.

“Martin, do I look like I’m in the mood to admire flowers?”

“……I’ll find out.”

Martin had no idea why the flowers were there.

The previous night, Christoph had returned to the mansion unusually and spent the entire night awake in the living room. Thus, he had no idea when the flowers had been placed there.

Christoph sank into his chair, his eyes glinting coldly. Martin hurried out of the room to find the careless servant.

A short while later, Martin returned to the study with an even more perplexed expression, still unable to make sense of the situation.

“According to the maid, Madam Schneider placed them there.”

“……Marien?”

Surprised by the unexpected answer, Christoph raised one eyebrow slightly. He then stared intently at the purple flowers as if they themselves were Marien.

She’d left the flowers behind just before running away. Why?

Marien wouldn’t have done something so meaningless without reason. She must have had a clear intention—but the problem was, he had no idea what it was.

Tch.

Christoph clicked his tongue in frustration. Then, realizing it had been a very long time since he’d felt so utterly helpless, he clicked his tongue again.

It felt as if a massive wall had suddenly appeared before him—a man who had always walked a smooth, prepared path through life. No matter how high he stood on his tiptoes, he couldn’t see what lay beyond that wall.

Just as despair began settling into his once-sharp eyes—

“…….”

Christoph, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the purple flowers, slowly lifted his head. A dry, raspy voice escaped through his clenched teeth.

“Martin. What’s the name of these flowers?”

“……I’ll call the gardener.”

Though taken aback by the unexpected question, Martin handled it skillfully. He left the study and soon returned with the gardener.

Peter looked extremely nervous at the sudden summons from his master. Fidgeting with his hat in his hands, he bowed deeply.

“Peter, what’s the name of those flowers on the desk?”

Martin hurriedly asked before Christoph’s patience ran out. Peter cautiously approached the desk, glancing nervously between the two men.

Without further hesitation, he answered confidently.

“They’re snapdragons.”

“Snapdragons?”

“Yes. They’re hardy against the cold and usually grown for ornamental purposes. They come not only in purple but also in red, white, yellow…”

“That’s enough.”

“Yes…? Ah, yes.”

Peter, who had been about to recite everything he knew, abruptly fell silent. Christoph’s icy tone made him absurdly worry that the snapdragons on the desk might freeze to death.

“You may go.”

At Martin’s words, Peter finally relaxed and bowed deeply once more. Christoph, so lost in thought he hadn’t even noticed the door opening and closing, suddenly rose from his seat.

He headed straight downstairs. The study door opened, revealing a room lined with bookshelves. Thousands of books were tightly packed onto shelves that nearly touched the ceiling.

He was certain he’d seen that book somewhere here.

Christoph impatiently clicked his tongue as his eyes scanned the spines. If his guess was correct, he would soon understand the message Marien had left for him.

His sharp eyes moved quickly—but the book he sought was nowhere to be found. After clicking his tongue again, he finally stopped moving.

“…….”

Swallowing hard, Christoph slowly reached out his hand. Soon, a single book came loose in his grip—a book he normally wouldn’t have glanced at twice.

A dictionary of flower meanings.

He recalled hearing that noblewomen would exchange flowers as gifts, secretly conveying messages through their symbolic meanings.

He’d even mocked it once: “What a waste of a mouth—do they only use it to gossip about others?”

As the center of high society, Madam Schneider couldn’t possibly have been unaware of this custom. In fact, she herself might have sent meaningful floral gifts many times before.

A congratulatory bouquet for families celebrating good fortune, a comforting bouquet for those in mourning—sometimes even a bouquet expressing affection.

What message had Marien left for him? What could it be?

Christoph impatiently flipped through the pages. The paper rustled ceaselessly.

Had she left a clue about her location? Or was it a desperate plea for him to find her?

Suddenly, Christoph froze. He had finally found the meaning of the snapdragon. He remained motionless for a moment, then swallowed hard before reading the printed words with trembling eyes.

“…….”

At that instant, all expression vanished from his face—as if he’d been struck where it hurt most.

Unconsciously, Christoph raised a hand to rub his jaw. He kept stroking it repeatedly, like a man who didn’t know what to do.

His eyes slowly moved again, settling once more on the meaning of the snapdragon.

“Arrogance.”

That was the final message she’d left for Christoph—not a plea for him to find her, nor a hint about her whereabouts. Just two words: “Arrogance.”

The hope that had filled Christoph’s eyes drained away, leaving them utterly black and empty.

A cart passed directly beneath the window. Its clattering noise shattered the dawn. Those destined for the longest days were already busy at this early hour.

From afar came the sound of a dog barking. As soon as one started, the whole neighborhood’s dogs joined in. Marien’s morning became chaotic along with them.

The mansion where she’d lived had always been quiet. No sound from the village’s commotion could ever intrude there—nothing loud enough to wake her from sleep.

She would rise leisurely, let her maid help her dress, choose the gown she’d wear that day, eat a meal so silent one could hear a needle drop, and then see Christoph off. That had been her morning routine.

“Hmm… what should I wear?”

Marien stared into her wardrobe, lost in deep thought.

Compared to the dressing room back at the mansion, this wardrobe was extremely cramped—holding only five outfits. They were all bought with money borrowed from Marquis Schneider.