re only a few people who left the classroom in the morning, so the corridors and courtyard were less popular than usual.
The blooming flowers were beautiful no matter how she looked at them.
Rather, they might look pretty because she was feeling rough.
The colorful petals and the sweet scent that tickled her nostrils were simply beautiful and tender to her eyes.
Even so, it was not enough to heal her heart.
Such a sight could heal someone because the memories that accompanied them were tender.
Violette had no past that could heal her current beaten up heart.
How did someone get over it when other people stepped into their most important places thoughtlessly?
“…Let’s stop this.”
She would surely get cornered just by thinking about it.
She didn’t think that it would be easy to forget it, but the day when her father would understand her feelings would never come.
His words were full of tenderness.
It was only natural that his show of love and tenderness to Maryjun was poisonous to Violette.
Violette was disapproving of herself.
If she didn’t even have any expectations for him anymore, why did she feel this shaken up? Was it so different from those nonchalant things that she had endured?
The wind blew and her hair swayed.
She should just let this feeling be blown away with the flying petals.
When she turned away to escape the gray color that hindered her view, she realized for the first time that there was another figure there.
Dark purple hair that reached to the waist without any distortion.
Slightly pinkish cheeks that added color to the white skin.
Even her bent down figure admiring the flowers oozed elegance… no, that girl herself was a beautiful flower.
Her pale purple eyes were narrowed, and her soothing atmosphere was solemn, reminiscent of a goddess.
If Violette was a large rose, that girl was a pure white lily.
She was trim, pretty, and elegant, packed with all of a noble lady’s ideals.
Violette also knew this person well.
She was Princess Rosette Megan, the royalty of the neighbouring country, and she was in the same grade as Violette, even though their classes were different.
It was common knowledge that this girl was wonderful.
She was a perfect person, a flawless noble lady.
Every word of positivity suited her, but even that was still lacking to describe her existence.
Her veiled, worshiped, praised, and deified figure reminded Violette of stained glass in a church.
The Rosette that she had always seen from afar was always surrounded by many people.
Her figure was the same even in social circles, and there was always someone next to, behind, and in front of Miss Rosette.
The lady that Violette knew was always smiling gently in the middle of the crowd.
Time passed and the bell rang while Violette was staring at Rosette dazedly.
It was a signal that class would start so they should return to the classroom before the next bell.
Rosette should’ve heard the bell as well, yet she kept touching the flowers without standing up.
Violette didn’t have to hesitate whether she should call out to her right now, but starting a conversation by herself was a big hurdle for Violette.
It was not just about Violette’s personality and communication skills, but because the people at school felt some kind of tension around Violette.
It was because of her family prestige and the aura from herself, not to say, there even were circumstances surrounding her family right now.
Her classmates were used to it, but for others, it was quite hard to talk to her.
And while Violette knew of Rosette, they hadn’t even met face to face, not to mention having an exchange.
There was no space for the current Violette to specially confirm whether she knew about obvious things since she had only seen Rosette from far away.
(Well… forget it.)
She didn’t need to call out to someone that she was not friends with, especially not since there was a possibility that she would bother her.
Above all, Violette was not confident that she could put on her smiling mask right now.
She took her gaze away from the crouching Rosette in front of the flowerbed, tucking away the gloominess that she couldn’t get rid of into the depths of their heart and returned to her classroom.
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