Niall was surprised to see Flora throw back the medicine with no more than a scrunch of her nose and a shiver.

The bitterness was a small price to pay for relief. So bilious Flora was that she dared not order anything sweet to make the treatment easier on herself. 

Niall motions the maid, Annie, closer, “The lady should only have light meals for the next few days,” He instructs while taking a few vials of medicine from his kit, “and one of these morning and night. Also,”

“What are you doing?” Flora’s biting tone freezes the Doctor and maid in place. Their eyes dart awkwardly from one another then back to Flora, trying to find where they’d erred.

Flora looked at Annie, and though her regard was brief, the scorn within her eyes makes the servant flinch. 

“Give the medicine to Hazel.” Flora commands. 

Hazel, who was cleaning Flora’s closet alongside others, was sure she heard wrong. Annie and the other maids weren’t any less lost.

Annie has been Flora’s closest maid, yet not even she could unravel the noblewoman’s thoughts in this moment. 

“Well?” Flora glares when her orders go unfulfilled. “What are you waiting for?”

Annie pulls her jaw off the floor to gasp, “My Lady…!” her short cry an outpour of hurt and confusion. Still, Flora would not spare her a glance. 

Hazel hesitates, but not out of pity for her colleague. She likes Annie no more than the other maids in Flora’s service do. 

As Flora’s closest, Annie was intoxicated with power and never helped with the chores. She keeps the maids few in number and pours the grunt work on them so they never have a chance to grow close to Flora. 

“My Lady,” Hazel curtsies, an expectant glimmer in her eyes. “I am afraid I still have to finish cleaning your closet.”

“What?” Flora raised a brow at the task that sounded so trivial to her. “Just let Annie do it then.”

At this, Hazel beamed. She held the rag out to Annie, making the latter turn to Flora with a face begging her to admit she didn’t mean what she said.

The longer Annie remains with that befuddled look, the more annoyed Flora becomes. 

She is being infinitely lenient considering Annie did not lag to raise those books over her head at Gretchen’s order. If mother hadn’t shown up, she really would have followed that wicked woman’s lead. Flora could not find it within herself to gloss over such betrayal.

Defeatedly, Annie took the rag and dragged her feet towards the closet.

Niall’s voice was as lethargic as ever, but his gaze was a tad sharper than usual as he explains the use of the medicine to Hazel. This won’t end well… He doubts Flora realizes there was an existing hierarchy amongst her maids, or that she just obliterated it. He also knows Annie isn’t well liked— more than a few servants like to join him for a sip now and again. 

Over Hazel’s shoulder, he spies the dirty water Annie wrung the rag into tip over on the spot she just wiped. From the satisfied faces of the other maids, it was no accident. 

Niall chose to ignore it.

He likes the Rayne family because they are simple. The Earl, Countess, Hanson, and Cara all fall into their routines and see little else outside of that. They disregard everything outside of their protocol and Flora until it becomes a problem they can’t afford to overlook.

Even then, that is hardly the case because Darlin’s thorough management never leaves room for errors to fester.

Once in a while, Niall does wonder why Darlin lets him and others get away with what they do, but remembers he isn’t paid enough to care. 

“…what a bother to have a sister so dreadfully subpar.”

“Your father’s brain and mother’s blood make for a poor combination within you.”

Flora’s identity as an illegitimate child has never been a source of self-doubt until now. After all, Isabelle wholly accepts her, and by personality alone she is— she thought herself worthy of her standing. 

…Do others see her the way Gretchen does? Is she something out of place, inherently unable to fit the role she felt comfortable in till Gretchen opened her mouth?

Hands almost ripping into the blanket, Flora asks, “Where is Darlin?”

Niall pauses halfway through the door, “I visited Lady Darlin in her study earlier, she might still be there.”

Flora frowned. “Is she ill?”

“Nothing too serious” The hell I’d tell you if it was. It is an open secret amongst the servants that Flora is not to know when Darlin serves such punishments as it will worry her poor heart.

Flora thought a bit, then threw the blanket off her person. 

“Do you need anything, my Lady?” Hazel pandered.

Flora’s stomach was only starting to calm and her worries have worked up a headache, still, “I’m going to see my sister.”

With Hazel’s help, Flora throws a cardigan over her nightgown, wears her slippers, and is off to confirm her thoughts.

Annie stared at the door long after it shut behind Flora and Hazel, the reality of her situation finally setting in. 

Tears prick Flora’s eyes. It’s unfair. Why did she need to live or act like Darlin or anyone else to be worthy of a life she was randomly born into? 

No matter what anyone says, the blonde could never reconcile her heart to Darlin’s tepid kindness, Felicity’s intimidation, or any noble lady’s facade of grace and purity. 

Just look at sister! She presents Darlin as evidence to argue with her insecurities, She didn’t open her heart and made Heinrich feel lonely. She’s too proud to listen to others so she can’t grow close to them, and all she thinks about is pleasing the Duchess.

If one really thinks about it, hasn’t Flora been picking up Darlin’s slack? 

Gretchen did not consider Flora is the pitiful one, always needing to defend Darlin’s prideful attitude. How often did she apologize on behalf of her sister each time people vented to her about Darlin’s arrogant attitude?

I also worked hard! Why are the fruits of her labor so bitter?

The thing about enemies on a narrow road is true because Gretchen, for whatever reason, has beaten Flora to the study.

Grimacing, she hops back, remaining hidden beside the ajar door.

Why is she here? The Rayne sisters are finally of like mind. 

Casually, Darlin shut the ledger and placed it over a pile of invoices. “My Lady, this is not a place you should bother gracing.”

Against Darlin’s hopes, Gretchen’s attention was entirely on the ledger. Certainly, that’s not… “Don’t tell me you are handling the accounts.” 

Darlin quickly weighs her words then playfully replies, “Is there a problem if I am?”

Gretchen guffawed. “It’s ridiculous!”

“Hm? Is the Countess worried for me? I admit there were some hiccups when I started, but one can only expect so much from a thirteen year old.”

“Thirt…!” Gretchen’s words were swept up in a breathless rasp. “You don’t actually expect me to believe you’ve been doing this on your own for that long.”

“Certainly not! I could have never done it without the Dame’s guidance.”

“Even then…!” The words were absurd but the proof is all around— the matriarchal signet meant to grant control over every account adorns Darlin’s right index. The shelves spanning wall to wall, floor to ceiling, are filled with books whose spines are stamped with dates. The handwriting didn’t match Isabelle’s. Much too perfect for that twit.

Gretchen beholds Darlin with new found respect. “This can’t be.” She shakes her head. “Logically speaking, the Dame can only teach you the basics. That’s nowhere near enough for anyone, let alone a child!” 

Running the house’s accounts requires insight, careful planning, quick thinking, and dynamism. 

Expenses change with seasons— the household needing modifications to to keep it livable, servants needing new uniforms, carriages needing reinforcements, and so forth.

One needs to consider socializing. Soirées and parties always cost a fat bit of money to host or attend— seating, entertainment, food, drinks, gifts, flowers. It’s also considered a faux pas to repeat outfits.

For the family, one needs to consider food stuffs, tutors, governesses, books, school fees. And that’s excluding the other makings of etiquette— poetry, music, languages.

You would also need to personally know merchants and how to deal with them. You mean to say a kid has always been capable of all that! Gretchen herself always has the assistance of her Head Maid to get through a normal day because, for a noble house, expenses are never ending.

“S-So… parties and such, you…”

“Of course!”

“Salaries?” 

“A paid worker is a happy worker.” Darlin sings.

“Allowances.”

“Naturally.”

Unbelievable! “Maintenance, bookkeeping, employee records, clothing, taxes, feeding!”

Darlin held up a hand, imitating a student answering a question, “All me.”

“That makes no sense! What about when you were in the academy?”

“I took the ledger with me and mother would regularly send me receipts and such.”

Gretchen was speechless. Now that she thought about it, didn’t she see Isabelle way too often? That woman is either perching around Flora, or spending time fortuitously. 

Furthermore, in the time Darlin would be in the academy, Gretchen nary recalled a party being hosted by the Raynes outside of the occasional luncheon or tea party. 

A true matriarch cannot afford such idleness. Gretchen spent two days arranging a budget before she dared leave her home.

She pressed a hand to her throbbing forehead. “I can’t believe this…” She muttered, “She has a child like this but poured her heart and soul over a damn bastard…”

“By the way, Countess, did you need something?” Now that Darlin has tattletaled, she wanted Gretchen out of her sight. 

“Oh, don’t mind me. I was only looking for some educated company to keep.”

Faking concern, Darlin stands and directs Gretchen to join her on the couch. “You look a little tired, my Lady.”

“Ah, so you noticed?” Gretchen cups her cheek with a forlorn sigh, certain she’s gotten some wrinkles since she’s had to deal with Flora. “I know I’m supposed to make her into a proper lady before the wedding, but at this rate…” And the bastard is more tenacious than I expected! 

“How much time do you have left?”

Gretchen confessed in a groan of frustration, “Twelve days.” There is no need to be wary, Felicity trusts Darlin.

Flora almost chokes on her saliva.

Hazel’s heart did somersaults. At this rate, I’ll be maid to the Duchess Apparent! “My Lady, this is great news!” Hazel quietly squeals.

The young bride felt nauseous again. Nodding stiffly, she gestures for Hazel to leave. As soon as the confused maid was gone, she drops her weight against the wall, panting as silently as she can. 

Her lips tremble and Flora finds herself opposing, No, isn’t that too soon? I—! Her sudden unwillingness shocks her, but Flora chooses to continue eavesdropping than wonder the state of her supposedly lovesick heart. 

“My Lady, if you would permit me a suggestion,” Darlin said. “My sister has longed for Sir Heinrich for years now. The depths of her affections can be worrying...”

“More like obsession,” Gretchen scoffs. She leans close to Darlin, inquiring in a whisper, “Did she really try to…”

The white haired girl nods, her voice solemn. “I am afraid so.”

Gretchen reels back with a gasp. Felicity hinted at it, yet the bare confirmation still throws her for a loop. “I never!” The horror in her voice contrasts the rich excitement for gossip in her gaze.

“What I am trying to say is, such a will is hard to break. In truth, Countess, you have two days to make a Duchess Apparent out of my sister.” 

Flora’s brows almost touch her hairline. She didn’t hear wrong earlier, so what in the world is Darlin saying?

“As expected, you catch on fast.” Gretchen said without reserve, “The invites will be out in two days. I presume it will be a small affair— much smaller than previous Fritz weddings— but ten days to prepare is still a gamble, don’t you think?”

“If anyone can pull it off, it will be Duke Vincent. In any case, why not turn your attention towards protecting the Duchy’s honor? It will be to Fritz’s detriment if my sister cannot perform the wedding ceremony well, so, for now, why not turn your efforts to teaching her those.”

“But the Duchess…” 

“I know what Her Grace desires. …Are you confident you can fulfill it?” 

Gretchen gulped. “R-Right, I should choose more wisely.” And by that, she means she must do what’s best for her.

Hearing Gretchen and Darlin round up their exchange, Flora picked up her skirt and rushed to duck beside a pedestal further down the hall. 

Thankfully, Gretchen headed in the opposite direction from her hiding place. Determined not to catch as much as her shadow, Flora only came out when she could no longer hear Gretchen’s footsteps. 

Flora’s fervent feelings have fizzled out. She knocks lazily, pushing inside when Darlin’s permission echoes through the door. 

“Flora,” Darlin asks with a note of surprise before turning her attention back to the ledger. “what brings you here?”

“…He said it wasn’t serious…”

Darlin really wanted to get through the expenses accumulated during her confinement, but it didn’t seem like Flora was about to take a hint and leave. “What is not serious?”

Perhaps because Darlin vaguely resembles her younger self right now, Flora could not muster the emotions that prompted her to rush to the study in the first place. 

Darlin’s cheeks are sunken, her collarbone much too visible, and her under eyes bruised. 

“Why aren’t you resting?” Flora was suddenly upset. “You’re clearly ill, so why aren’t you in bed right now?!”

“Will you take care of the accounts for me?” Senseless pity is the last thing Darlin needs. 

The ire in her voice came as a shock to Flora. “I… I’m just concerned about you! Why do you insist on doing everything your way and worrying those who care about you?”

Three days without sufficient food or water has taken some toll on her mind as Darlin couldn’t stop cackling even if she wanted to. “Goodness!” She gasps, “Are you worried about me?”

Flora pouted and stomped her foot. “Isn’t that to be expected of family? It’s so cruel how easily you dismiss good intentions, sister.”

Just like that, amusement is replaced with irritation. What the fuck is she on about? “Who—“ She stops herself with a gnash of her teeth, knowing she will be confined again if she asks who the fuck wants such cheap affections. 

“Family”? It’s so stupid it’s not even funny. Isabelle and Howard aren’t her parents, but Flora’s— just as this is a house Darlin grew up in but is Flora’s home. 

“So, you came here because you were worried about me?”

Even if Flora somehow managed to not glance off guiltily, Darlin would know that isn’t the case at all. It never is. That’s right, you’ll only come find me when you need something. Whether to make requests, or receive some validation, Flora simply isn’t considerate enough to inconvenience herself for Darlin’s sake.

“Is it so hard to believe that might be the reason?”

Flora’s poor avoidance brings a wooden smile to Darlin’s lips. She widens her red eyes innocently, “Well, you have never done so in the past, have you?”

Flora’s mouth starts ahead of her brain, “Of course I—!” only to realize there is no defence going forth.

Since they were young, Darlin has always suffered from “health declines” according to her parents and servants. Outside of that, Flora finds she doesn’t know much else of Darlin’s condition.

Forget visiting Darlin, Did I ever ask about it? How Darlin was, what’s being done to make her feel better? …I never asked?

Her eyes fall on the ledger, where Darlin’s hand never stopped moving. Even as they converse, she is handling the accounts without perceivable struggle. 

Flora is reminded of Gretchen’s surprise towards Darlin carrying out such work. “I didn’t know that’s what you were doing in the study all this time…” She thinks aloud. 

Darlin looks between the ledger and the shelves full of old financial records, a bitter taste crawling up from the back of her throat. “You needed mother.”

“Excuse me?” 

“When we were younger.” Darlin reminds her half-sister, “You were heartbroken over my engagement but father was not able to be with you often. Mother had to find a way to give you all the attention you asked for.” For such a stupid reason her adolescence and teenhood were spent in a dreary fashion with only the smell of ink and paper to accompany her. 

Flora’s jaw dropped slightly. “You took on this sort of work… because of me…?” 

In all honesty, if she had not overheard the conversation, she wouldn’t have known how strenuous it could be. 

The telltale sign was that Gretchen did not fawn over Darlin as usual. Instead, she seemed downright appalled Darlin was doing this work on her own. 

“Is it tiring?” Flora hoped to the gods it wasn’t— for hers and Darlin’s sakes.

Darlin really couldn’t understand why they were having this senseless back and forth, nor where it’s going. 

With a deep sigh, she stabs the quill into the ink pot, finally giving Flora all her attention. “You still have not told me what brought you here.”

It was uncomfortable. Darlin’s stare sent something wriggling under Flora’s skin, a weight in her stomach bringing her down onto the couch. 

To avoid meeting Darlin’s eyes, Flora takes interest in the garden view through the window. “I was thinking earlier, we sisters are very contradictory.”

Darlin cocks a brow and Flora is only able to go on after a large inhale, “I won’t be able to be the Duchess everyone expected you would be.”

Darlin smirks. “I think that is without question.” If her life spent in a coma is any clue, then she could assume Flora never rose to the mantle of Duchess Apparent, though she held the seat. She would have chattered my ears off with complaints if she had to learn to do a third of what I did. Flora merely had to safely birth Fritz’s heir and live like the singular flower in a vast greenhouse. 

“No matter how different we are, I’m determined to be a great Duchess.” For her next question, Flora knew she had to look into Darlin’s eyes, “Do you think that’s possible for me?”

The question took Darlin off guard, but only for a moment. A small smile plays on her lips when she recalls this is the same Flora she’s known through five lifetimes. Ah, emotional validation, is it? I guess the old cow managed to get to her a little. Still, Darlin did promise Flora would receive no more help from her. “Flora, I think you will be very memorable.”

There’s no telling if an honest response would have stopped Flora from proceeding with the wedding. She has always looked on the brighter side— that being the side that says what she wants to hear. She didn’t wonder why Darlin did not give a simpler answer, nor consider a slap can be just as memorable as a first kiss. 

Pink eyes brighten, willpower renewed. Now, she was assured she’s let Gretchen and the stress of everything force her to be pointlessly hard on herself. “Darlin, I believe you and I should consider a change.” Pausing, Flora thought something over, then asserted with a confident glimmer in her eyes, “No. We need to change.” 

Darlin held back a scoff. “Oh, do enlighten me.” 

Her sarcasm went unnoticed with Flora being too consumed with how to breach the problem. “Well, the thing is… um…” Clutching her skirt, she spews in one breath, “Sister, your cold attitude makes others feel lonely. It’s the case for Heinrich, me, and others. Mother and father also have a hard time because of it!”

Seeing Darlin’s eyes go wide, Flora thought how sad it was they hadn’t held this conversation earlier. So she really didn’t know she was pushing everyone away. “Because you’ve been carrying your burdens alone, you’ve become distant. You wouldn’t listen to anyone and… and to be honest, we were all afraid of what sort of Duchess you would be.” Hoping to soothe the blow of her words, Flora adds, “I always tried to defend you, sister. And I think with effort, you can build meaningful bonds with others and—!”

Darlin’s face had gradually morphed into a look of utmost hatred. Flora had never been on the receiving end of a murderous stare, and all she could do was cower. 

Darlin was befuddled at how quickly Flora humbled her. She thought she knew her sister well, but it seems there are depths of foolishness Darlin is unable to comprehend. “You are… amazing, Flora. Truly,” She heaves, “you are beyond my wildest imagination… as always…!”

She could taste blood and Darlin didn’t know if she wanted to scream or cry. Neither would satisfy. 

Her eyes land on the ink pot and she sees herself hurling it at Flora’s head. She’d stab her sister with the quill till it breaks within her skin, then rip out her golden tresses, claw her face, stomp on her body, bash her head in with the ledger. 

Darlin’s tongue laves over her dry lips, ears full of static. Should I…? Temptation beckons. 

Consequence is as frightening as a shadow when one holds, what appears to be, infinite regressions. 

And, at the same time, consequence mocks her as everyone else escapes the recoil of their actions via her death. 

The atmosphere lightened and Flora dared to stammer in a strained voice, “Darlin…?”

The white haired girl fell against the backrest, a vision of fatigue. Flora was almost half certain she imagined Darlin’s bloodlust.

Darlin smoothed her palms up over her cheeks and through her hair. “We must live.” She avows.

Her statement seemed to come out of nowhere, but Flora lost the chance to question the meaning behind it when Darlin pushed out of her seat and approached her.

She seemed out of it. Her eyes were wide, pupils shrunk, smile dreamy. She stops a foot or two away from Flora, the perfect distance to clearly see the fear, confusion, pitiful, infuriating, guilelessness in those pink irises.

If Flora weren’t as clear as a newly born fawn, Darlin would mistake her for a sadistic mastermind. 

For Darlin, Flora’s words mean that by bearing the weight placed on her by Felicity, Vincent, Heinrich, Flora, and their own parents, Darlin orchestrated her own destruction. 

She didn’t ask for the engagement, but it was hers and Darlin was anything if not dutiful. And it was… hard… Being the only one playing the role she’s been given, backing the Rayne’s withered legacy, being the true noble everyone demanded her to be. 

When she collapsed under the strain of an unrequited love, she was stabbed in the heart by her husband. 

When she was angry and bore her heart for the first time, her mother pushed her down a flight of stairs. 

When she tried to surrender, the price was her child.

When her mind broke under pressure, it was a delirious tumble out the window that saved her from being an old man’s plaything. 

Darlin had to accept, There’s no way out— not one where we all get to be happy. It’s them or me!

“Darlin, stop!” Flora leaped from the couch and caught her sister by the wrist.

Only then did Darlin feel her nails had penetrated her undergarments and pricked into her stomach. 

Flora was shaking, tears pooling in her eyes. Within Darlin’s eery smile she could barely find a human, let alone her sister. 

“Flora,” The blonde’s name has never sounded as haunting as it does now. “let us save this conversation for the future.”

Flora’s breathe and gaze are unsteady. “T-The… future…?” She could sense she was being lured. Where? She couldn’t imagine— she was too scared to.

A giggle slithers out of Darlin. Yes, it’s better to be alive— you and I, Heinrich, father, mother, the Duchess. Let’s live for a long, looo~ng time. “Be the kind of Duchess Apparent only you can be.” Darlin took a lock of golden hair in hand, wondering if it will turn dull and scratchy from stress as hers once did. “Your love, your hope— my effort, my sacrifice. Let us talk about these things at a later time. Alright?”

There is only one correct answer. Flora drops her head in a stiff, singular nod. “…Al… Alright…”