Chapter 2: Mushroom Sensitivity Intensifies
AGNES sewed late into the night and ended up making five new skirts. She’d managed to make the skirts so much cuter by sewing white lace onto the drab material. Or at least, she was pretty satisfied with them. Lace had caught on as a fad with commoner women lately, as lace-adorned clothing was seen as somewhat luxurious.
Agnes visited town regularly to see what the common folk were up to. She figured that’d help her blend in more easily if she ended up having to return there someday.
The new skirts were good quality and should fetch a decent price despite their admittedly bland colors. At any rate, it’d be better than just throwing them out.
Filled with a sense of accomplishment that blew away the last dregs of her exhaustion, Agnes decided to head to the shop right away.
She washed her face, changed into a simple dress, and opened the front door to make her way to the carriage. But the door opened instead onto…a world of bright pink flowers.
“…Are you Count Lefort’s daughter?”
Agnes froze as someone spoke to her from beyond the flowers.
She looked up and realized the large bouquet was being clutched by a man with black hair and russet-brown eyes. With the way he was dressed, he was clearly a member of the aristocracy.
She’d never seen this man before, though. Perhaps he’s one of Philip’s squires?
Agnes had no idea why Philip would’ve dispatched his squire to her residence. But he was surely up to no good. The best thing to do would be to avoid engaging with his nonsense altogether.
“What do you want? I’m in a hurry. Let me by.”
As Agnes tried to brush past him, the man forced the bouquet into her hands.
“…From His Royal Highness.”
Upon hearing those words, Agnes snapped.
Flowers? He thought flowers were a good idea? After he publicly dumped and humiliated me?
“Tell him to give them to his new woman! I’m just a fake, don’t you know?!”
Agnes threw the flowers back at the squire and dashed past, leaping into the safety of her carriage. It seemed she’d accidentally made contact with the young man, however. A cluster of white mushrooms had just sprouted from the toe of his boot.
They looked like a clump of Coprinellus disseminatus. Agnes pretended she hadn’t noticed them.
The man was Philip’s squire, so either he already knew about Agnes’ strange fungal effect, or he’d be able to find out from Philip when he returned. Either way, it wasn’t her problem.
Agnes sighed as the horses set off at a fast trot.
What was Philip thinking? And why now?
Was he trying to apologize with flowers? Perhaps he’d been scolded for causing so much trouble, and this was a pathetic attempt to save face?
The pink flowers were very lovely, but even the prettiest bouquet lacks appeal when it’s a gift from someone you don’t care about.
The squire would no doubt invoke Philip’s wrath when he returned, flowers still in hand. But that wasn’t Agnes’s fault. She wasn’t obligated to accept Philip’s gift just to cover for a squire she didn’t know.
…I’m going to forget all about this unpleasantness. I have to get these skirts sold!
Agnes was still slightly irritated but did her best to put it out of her mind.
The skirts ended up selling for more than she’d expected, which was enough to put her in a much better mood.