We were on our way home from the farm village. Rose told me all the things she’d heard from the villagers, and partway through, the conversation shifted to the topic of the festival. I singled out the detail that caught my attention.
“I see. So they give flowers at the festival?”
“Yes, a man will give flowers to the woman who holds his affections, and then he’ll confess.”
That seems like a custom that women would like was my first unromantic impression. My next thought was, That seems like a high hurdle for young men. Not all men are able to honestly profess their affections for the woman they love. Especially not young men in their late teens—the large majority of them would buckle under their shame and shyness. And gifting flowers? I feel like that raises the difficulty by leagues.
“That’s quite a harsh ordeal for young men,” I said, voicing my honest thoughts aloud.
Rose’s eyes became wide saucers. “Goodness, Leon, you just don’t get it. This custom isn’t just for young women in love! It’s also the perfect opportunity for shy men.”
I contemplated for a moment, but I couldn’t think of a reason it would be the perfect opportunity. “How so?” I asked, frowning slightly.
She gave me a small smile. “Because, on any other day, he would first need to get the girl he likes alone, right? If they coincidentally ended up alone, then that would be fine, but in general he’d initiate by writing a letter or having a friend help. If all went well and he got her alone, next he’d have to convey his feelings in his own words.”
She was reciting the requisite steps for a standard love confession. It was a tried-and-true method familiar to all, but hearing everything listed out like that made me see how arduous it was.
“But only on a special day, on a festival day, can he convey his feelings simply by giving her flowers. She’ll understand, even if he doesn’t explicitly say, ‘I love you.’”
It felt like the scales had fallen from my eyes. “That makes sense,” I murmured.
I’d thought that for an awkward man the act of buying flowers itself would be strenuous. Simply holding flowers would be the same as saying, “I’m going to confess to the person I love now.” It would be like walking around with a piece of paper stuck on your back. I’d assumed it would surely be unbearable.
However, such an obvious display of affection has benefits too. He can convey to the other person that he loves her without practicing his handwriting, or penning an uncharacteristic love poem, or forcing himself to put the complicated feelings of his heart into words. This is a very...
“It’s a wonderful custom, isn’t it?” Rose smiled gently.
The sun shone through the window and illuminated her hair and silhouette, blurring the boundary between her and the light. Her blue eyes, abounding with love, glistened like a calm lake surface. It was such a breathtaking sight that I was struck speechless.
“Leon? Is something the matter?” Rose asked.
I snapped back to my senses. It had felt like a split second to me, but apparently, I’d frozen for quite some time. Her stare made my heart pound loudly. “N-No, it’s nothing...”
Even I found my attitude too suspicious for it to be nothing. My flushed cheeks and hoarse voice clearly indicated that I was shaken. How embarrassing, I’m not an adolescent boy. She’s my wife. We’ll be having a child next year, so why am I acting like this now? Though I mentally berated myself, my pulse wouldn’t slow down. I covered my mouth with one hand, trying to hide the uncontrollable red spreading across my face.
“Are you motion sick? Or if it’s too hot in here, I can close the curtains.” Trying to be considerate of my strange behavior, Rose made wrong guess after wrong guess. Seeing her flustered calmed my inner turbulence somewhat.
“I’m fine. I was just thinking about something.”
“That’s good, then...but don’t overdo it, okay?”
Her worried gaze made me feel guilty but also happy. I was delighted that she was concerned about me. My wife loved me as much now as she had before we’d married—no, her love for me ran even deeper than before. Despite that, being the boorish man that I was, I couldn’t find the right words that would convey my affection for her, no matter how much I racked my brains.
“That’s it.” I mumbled aloud to myself without thinking.
“Hmm? Did you say something?” Rose tilted her head to the side.
I shook my head and smiled. “No.” That’s it: flowers. I’ll give her flowers. My love for Rose grows by the day, and to convey my affections, I want to give her flowers too. Although I’d decided to use the festival custom as a pretext to give her flowers, I had no intention of simply handing her a few freshly picked blooms.
Flowers wither, obviously. Since it’s a special occasion, I want to give her something that will last for longer than a day in her hands. With that in mind, the first thing I thought of was an accessory. Necklaces, bracelets, rings, or earrings—there were numerous varieties that women liked, but unfortunately, Rose didn’t have much interest in any of them. She admired them as beautiful works of art, but the story was different when it came to wearing them herself. Although she had the appearance of a sheltered young noble lady, Rose was constantly on her feet. “I’d hate it if I lost them,” she had once said. She only wore accessories to social gatherings like soirees or tea parties.
The only accessories she’d shown interest in—the only exceptions to this rule—were the raden pieces she was backing. I had no doubt that Rose would be overjoyed to receive something crafted by Miss Ayame. Despite my confidence, there was one thing I was worried about.
There were less than two months left until the harvest festival. In addition to that, Miss Ayame had received more work orders and was extremely busy. It was highly likely that she didn’t have the time to accept my request. I figured she might agree to take the job anyway, considering that the Prelier Duchy was her backer, but I didn’t want to coerce her. Rose hated using her authority for private gain, and as the spouse of such an upright feudal lord, it would be inexcusable if I blemished her reputation.