Airin had never heard of madwomen like the Rosenberg Young Lady. She seemed perfectly normal, Airin could swear. But what was displayed earlier was anything but normal. Even madwomen followed a type of logic, but the young lady's disease is clearly abnormal.
'Are noblemen this messed up?' Airin's shoulders are slouched as she raise both hands to wrap around herself, the draft tightly held in her grip.
Airin makes a stop in her steps as she approaches the end of the hall. The hesitation in her mind is obvious as she bites her lips, eyes flickering between the exit and the other hallway most likely leading to the Viscountess' room.
'I need to submit this draft.' Airin states internally. 'As I need to protect my life.' Her fear counters.
The young lady stands lost in thoughts, flinching abruptly at the sound of a masculine voice.
"Are you lost?"
Airin turns her head to the exit and sees the Viscount's son gradually approaching her position.
She bows hastily, her mind whirling in sudden fear and mild shock. "No, young master. I was just...."
'Making a timely escape from your mentally ill sister.'
"I was just..." Airin repeats, a slight pause in her words before she continues, "heading towards the Viscountess' room to submit this draft."
An intrigued look comes upon his feature, and Airin presumes he's curious about the work.
She brings the draft up and as she attempts to flip open the pages to show him, she notices an unfamiliar document is in her hand. Her confusion is momentary.
'In my haste, I must have grabbed an unknown document from the lady's desk. Good Lord, do I return- no. I'll... probably return this later. Not anytime soon, though. Definitely not. In any case, it's better to tell the head maid to help return it back to her mentally disabled young lady.'
"May I see the draft?" Rome's question snaps Airin out of her thoughts. Once again bringing her to awareness.
"I'm sorry." Airin gives a sheepish smile, inwardly noting how disoriented she feels. Her focus is not as high as it was earlier.
"You do not have to apologize. I understand you must be tired," He says with consideration, tone taking a softer shift as his dark blue eyes gaze warmly at Airin. His eyes stare unwaveringly at her as though he desires to enclose her in his gaze. Or perhaps, pierce through her physical appearance and examine her soul.
Airin is caught off guard by the warmth she feels from him, the intensity in his stare, but she shrugs it off as her mind cooks up games to further heighten her anxiety and stress.
Airin swiftly tucks the foreign document under her draft. And while she opens the draft to present to the young master, her body tenses up as she notices how close they are. Somewhere along the line of her actions, he moved closer. It baffles her how fast and untraceable he moves, that she doesn't feel his presence until he is this near.
Airin refrains from looking up, she knows the young man is peering down at her. Goosebumps rise on her skin due to reasons unexplainable, but she pushes the distracting reactions away and focus on explaining the designs.
"The first design here is the Viscount's. Following Rosenberg's tradition, we merged the ceremonial colours and opted for a more simplistic yet classic design for him. If you noticed, the sides of his sleeves are-"
Airin stiffens in place when he slowly tilts her chin up. Her words stuck in her chest.
'His eyes are like the stormy waves of the sea. It is somewhat appealing, but I cannot help but think of all the dangers that lie within.'
He takes his hand off her chin and smiles politely, "I do not wish to stress you further. You should go meet my Mother and when you are less busy and less exhausted, explain all this to me. Is that okay?"
Airin breathes out with a weary expression.
'The Rosenberg household aims to kill me with a heart attack.'
Airin nods, then gives a short bow. Cautiously and carefully not allowing herself to bow too drastically, lest she bumps her head on his chest. She steps backwards and responds, "Thank you, Young Master."
"Jerome," He states. "Calling me by my title is a bit too formal. I'd prefer you call me Jerome."
Airin's brow shoots up. "That is against the rules-"
"Rules are set by people, Airin." He chuckles.
'He knows my name.'
Jerome steps close to Airin, closing the distance she made. "If we set them, we can as well break them."
There is something more in his tone. An innuendo, but Airin has no idea what else he could possibly be referring to.
Airin nods, deciding it is best to agree to the man's riddles on the surface, then do what is clear and right to her. "Understood, sir."
Jerome smiles perfectly, looking everything like a gentleman. He takes his eyes off her and stares into the distance, where Ophelia's room is located.
"It is best you stay away from my sister, Ophelia. From the scent I perceive from you, you most likely have been to her room. I advise you to stay away. She is..."
"Mentally disabled?" Airin speaks out, as though meeting a comrade, eyes sparkling with hope and comfort of being understood. But she soon regrets her words.
Ms. Romania's voice echoes in her head. 'Remember, Nessarina, noblemen have faults. But none to speak of. Never address their fault before them. Understood?'
"I mean," Airin stutters. "N-not that she's ill, I... I..."
Jerome's hearty laughter makes her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
"I'm sorry!" She lowers her head, reflecting on her choice of words and clumsy explanation.
"Not at all. She is indeed mentally disabled. So do stay away."
"Yes, young master." Airin nods.
His pointed stare makes her temporarily acquit herself to his earlier statement.
"Yes, Jerome."
When a satisfied look came upon his features, Airin knew she said the situational-right answer.
•
Jerome left immediately after Airin corrected herself, and Airin marched towards the Viscountess' room. She was able to submit the draft and receive her permission to make the clothes as drawn.
The Viscountess, being direct, gave her opinions clearly, and Airin made some improvisation on the spot, much to the Viscountess' satisfaction. Airin promptly reported back to Eren, who finally released the seamstresses to start the main work after the design approval.
Work officially began in full force. The seamstresses and assistants were busy until an hour towards midnight. Eren dismissed everybody so the rest could be appropriated. Better they work less fast and more precise than more fast and less precise.
The designs have to be properly replicated in reality because such is the show of expertise in a seamstress' work.
Few minutes towards midnight, Airin brings out the document she accidentally took from Ophelia's room, from her drawer, and places it on her bed.
Something within her keeps stirring, eager to invade someone's privacy, eager to study the mysteries of the document she took. It is unlike Airin to have unnatural curiosity towards what does not concern her. It is unlike Airin not to have reported the situation to head maid Ali, her mom, or Isolade.
But here she sits, heart thumping in nervousness, while the rest are asleep. Airin carries the lamp that is still burning from her desk, and she places it close to the document so she can read and examine its contents. In so doing, she disappointed her principled morals. But she cannot help it. The desire to view the document is strong. Airin dares say; it feels like fate.
'It's a foreign language.' Airin's anticipation hits a block, her earlier enthusiasm falls as a sour feeling occupies her heart.
Though discouraged, Airin continues to stare at the paper as if she wants to pierce through the content with her gaze. And just like magic, the more Airin stares at the indescribable text, the more she gains understanding. Like the words switch to English to appeal to her understanding.
Casting her shock aside, Airin is drawn to the content of the paper. A certain familiarity calling her attention to discover.
'...Observatory Room,
The Imperial Palace...
11th of May, 1789.'
'...Rosenberg Household.'
'Greetings,
I hope this message finds you well... Regarding the discovery of the newly chosen, the Arriehts, we have...
Progress is discouraging as... but... praise be to Ceci-... new clues...
...the council of weavers have found the method by which Red Arriehts communicate. ...due notice that... differs from... prompt response....
If House Rosenberg can decipher the mystery behind the language, generous rewards will.... also to other households... await... good n.ws.
...below... words said by a Red Arrieht... investigation... unveils.
(The Rumor Is Disturbing. Ella Novelle Trembles In Seclusion. Different Enigmas Appear Differently.)
We have decoded "trident is dead."... still... mystery unsolved.
....hopefully... best of luck.
Yours Faithfully,
&₩£
First Priest Adolf.'
The more Airin reads the more her head pounds. The sudden onslaught of headaches greatly dampens her effectiveness in reading, but with persistence, she can make out a few words in the entire letter. She pays close attention to the code that when interpreted, means "trident is dead". She also tries to decipher the mystery.
Eyes closed, filled with uncharacteristic curiosity and desire to unveil a mystery, Airin ponders on the words, subconsciously whispering them.
"The rumour... is disturbing. Ella Novelle trembles in seclusion. Different enigmas... appear, differently."
Airin's eyes snap open, her formerly dark blue eyes tinted to an icy blue colour. Shades lighter than her normal eye colour. The icy blue colour holds little swirls of other blues, like a bright sky housing clouds of a myriad of blue.
Airin hears a voice in her mind.
[Red Arrieht... 32. Unknown connection, who are you?]
Airin's mouth slowly falls open as she remembers the familiar voice. Like a dam bursting forth, memories that were otherwise lost are recovered. Airin remembers that this is the voice she heard earlier at the boutique while the Knight was chasing a thief.
[I repeat, who are you?]