Vivid | Lee Minho

•Scene 3•

The tea was warm and sweet on your tongue, with the smallest hint of floral bitterness. It was just the kind of earthy taste you enjoyed.

"Have you been well, my dear?" your mother asked, setting her teacup down after a careful sip. Her movements were always of the utmost elegance, making everyone else seem like a clumsy fool in contrast.

You smiled. "I have, mother. What of you? How has your stay been so far?"

One week had passed since your wedding, and your parents had been staying at Adorance as if to keep you company. They claimed not wanting to bother you and your husband, but you knew that they were simply reluctant to leave you behind and did not know how to express it.

Though, they were finally going to leave for Lurmuse tomorrow, and you were going to stay in Valorieve.

Alone to pull the strings of your plan.

"It has been nice. Adorance is such a large city, rather too lively and loud sometimes," your mother remarked with a quirk of her lips. "I do miss the peacefulness of the estate."

Life in the Lurmuse fiefdom was quiet and simple, free from the buzz and extravagance of big cities. It was no wonder that your mother felt out of place here.

"That is true. The city feels as though it would sweep one away if given the chance." you took another sip of your tea. The conversation was going in no particular direction, and you appreciated that.

But it seemed that your mother had other ideas, ever the perceptive lady.

You looked up from your teacup to find her gazing at you with concern drawn all over her face. Brows furrowed, she seemed to hesitate before finally uttering, "Is he treating you well?"

The cup in your hand suddenly felt heavy. She did not beat around the bush, did she?

Your smile did not falter. "I am happy. Please, don't worry about me, mother."

"Silly girl, if I do not worry about you, then who will?" she sighed, eyes filling with warmth as she regarded you. Your mother's care was steady and unrelenting, like a mighty mountain in the face of a storm. You were sure she would worry herself sleepless if you had expressed even the slightest unhappiness.

Her thin hand came to rest over yours from across the table, comforting as she murmured, "I heard that His Lordship is away."

"Yes, he told me that he had urgent business matters to attend to," the lie fell easily from your lips.

The truth was that you had not seen Minho since the day after the wedding. He had simply left without a word. Though if you were to guess, he was probably scoping out a secret military base somewhere.

Not that his absence bothered you.

"How unfortunate," the Countess sighed again, her disapproval evident in her frown, and you hid your grimace. Sorry, Minho.

Your mother was a meticulous woman. The last thing you needed was for her to pry. If you had to sacrifice your husband for the plan's sake, then so be it.

Smiling sheepishly, you shrugged. "But so would fate have it."

"Still, he must make time for you!" she picked up her teacup with a huff, making you chuckle. You could only hope to be as formidable a woman as her.

"I will let him know, mother."

• • •

A month had passed since the wedding.

Life in Valorieve Palace was much calmer than you expected it to be. Although it was the main estate, the Count and his wife lived elsewhere at one of the family's many other properties, only visiting occasionally. Minho was still away, alongside his brother and the mysterious person called Chan.

Slipping into a solitary, quiet routine was easy. Your time was mostly spent managing the estate affairs for which you were responsible as the new Lady Valorieve. You dared not disturb the palace staff in their work, avoiding their aid as much as you could.

It was not so difficult. In fact, it was the kind of life you were used to at your home in Lurmuse.

Your parents did not employ servants to open and shut doors for you, bathe and dress you, or tend to the most minuscule of your needs. But that was not the case in Valorieve Palace, where the servants were not quite convinced of your aptitude to carry a few books to your study.

It took some time, but eventually, you reached a mutual understanding with them.

Mostly.

You were overlooking the garden work when your butler approached you, carrying with him a small silver plate and a parasol under his arm. He was assigned to you by the head butler of the palace, and no matter how you tried to brush him off, he remained staunchly by your side, determined to serve.

"My lady, a letter has arrived for you," he said after bowing lightly. He had hair the same shade as his inky black butler's coat, and eyes the color of a cloudless sky at noon. Sharp features and polished manners, yet he could not have been much older than you.

"Thank you, Sycross." you gave him a polite nod as you took the envelope he had presented on the plate. He then reached for the parasol he carried and you waved your hand at him dismissively. "There's really no need—"

"Pardon me, my lady, but the sun is quite strong today. Please, allow me," Sycross interrupted, opening the parasol regardless and stepping a respectful distance away.

Under the newfound shade, your shoulders slumped in defeat. There was no deterring him.

You turned your attention to the letter. There was no sender's name on the envelope, but you knew who had sent it.

The Crown Prince had been sending you one letter after another throughout the past month. Sometimes he begged you, other times he questioned you and demanded answers. An outsider might think he was simply a heartbroken man beseeching his cruel-hearted former lover, but you knew better.

You knew that it was not his heartbreak speaking, but fury. The ink on those letters looked like blood to you. Every curve and dip of his script was a threat only you could see.

Resigned, you tore open the top of the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. You wondered what laughable pleas were scribbled on that piece of paper as you unfolded it.

His angry lettering screamed at you. Only one sentence stared back at you.

'You cannot hide.'

A pure and honest threat. You wanted to laugh as much as you wanted to drop this letter in terror.

Instead, you did neither and neatly folded it back into the envelope, sure to maintain a composed demeanor.

You knew that you were being watched and reported back to Minho. It made sense, for you were a close companion of his enemy, after all. He would be a fool to let you roam around unsupervised, and the young Lord was no fool.

You would burn this letter as you had burned the rest, and make it known that you did not send any back.

You would give Minho no reason to terminate your partnership. Let the Prince send as many wrathful, useless letters as he wished.