Reunion
A soft rustle whispered through the orchard as a worn dress brushed past the orange trees.
A clean wind drifted gently through the orange grove after the rain, and a man named Dunkin — one of the household servants — stared, utterly transfixed, at the girl in the shabby dress.
Dunkin was a new hire, only just arrived that day. He had been helping on his father's farm outside Bayorn territory when his skill earned him a place here. Now the young farmer, tasked with tending the orange trees, could not tear his eyes from the girl with vermilion hair braided neatly atop her head.
Judging by the dirt-caked dress and the small shovel in her hands, she seemed to be a farmer like him — and yet…
Wow…
That glittering, breathtaking beauty belonged more to a noble young lady of the Imperial Capital than to any field hand.
The modest ornament in her hair swayed with every movement, drawing the eye, and the pale face beneath it was whiter than a lily even without a trace of powder.
"You're new here, aren't you?"
"Ah — yes, that's right."
However he looked at her, Darin only offered a smiling, polite greeting. She was not a native of Bayorn, so of course he wouldn't know her face.
Regardless of station, she always began a first meeting with formal speech. It might have been a habit from her previous life, or simply that Darin was a well-mannered person by nature.
She was limping through the orange orchard, carefully shifting a lower body still wrecked by her son. The day before, body and mind alike had been left in ruins, and she had spent the entire day sleeping it off.
The poorly educated country youth watched her and decided the girl must be having "that time of the month." The excessively sweet scent rising from her, he figured, was probably because of it — a crude assumption she had no way of noticing. She had enough heartache of her own.
I've done nothing lately. Just lying around every day…
Even depression had to be kept in check. If the servants fretted over her too many times, they might start treating her like a madwoman.
They respected and honored her sincerely — but the moment they learned the lady of the house was suffering from a sickness of the mind, her standing within the castle would begin to erode.
It isn't about power.
That was the truth. She had never been a greedy woman. But as her influence dwindled, Kael's chains would only tighten around her more fiercely.
If he insisted on keeping her alone with him, or dragged her off to some detached wing and locked her away — the justification for such outrageous acts would be a family history of mental illness.
If it came to that, the servants and retainers would not stop Kael. They would simply think a son was caring for his ailing mother.
Call it overthinking, call it paranoia. Darin was already accounting for every situation that might arise. Had she not already fallen into her son's trap and offered him her body? Nothing Kael did from here on would surprise her.
To reform her son, she also had to endure this. Darin cherished Kael to the point of madness — that was why she had been so helplessly violated. She had never been a weak woman by nature. Thirty years spent with a man she did not love had forged her in its own way.
She clutched her trembling chest and steeled her resolve once more. Don't collapse here. Just hold on a little longer.
In her hands she carried a small shovel and a basket.
Seizing the break in the rain, she meant to plant seeds and harvest the oranges that had already grown.
This place was one of the few domains that still belonged to her. She could have left all the labor to the servants, but Darin was a woman who liked to work with her own hands.
If all she ever did was spread her legs for a husband she did not love, how was she any different from a whore? As a young girl, she had sought out the orange orchard as a way to become a mother her children could be even a little proud of.
The green leaves, beaded with dew, looked so fresh. When evening came, the "lovers' hour" her son had set would return. She needed to finish before then.
"Please don't mind me. Go about your work."
"Ah — yes, ma'am!"
The Viscountess, uneasy under the farmer's unbroken stare, cut the conversation short. Then she began driving her shovel into the soil again and again.
Scrape, scrape.
Into the neatly dug earth she pressed orange seeds. The orchard had recently been expanded, leaving plenty of empty ground. Today she would fill some of it.
Her dress dragged through the damp soil and grew filthy, but as a commoner by birth she paid no mind to such trifles. Getting dirty was simply part of tending a farm.
Raised without pesticides, many of the oranges bore insect bites, and many more were scarred where wind-tossed branches had scraped them.
It's all my fault…
Darin wore a melancholy expression as she apologized to the fruit. And her words held a measure of truth. She, who possessed the power of oranges, had been away too long — of course the quality had suffered.
She caressed the oranges with careful hands, then decided it would not do. She rose to her feet and lifted the small shovel.
A low hum.
Slowly, a vermilion aura began to coat the blade. One of her secret techniques.
Just as seasoned knights wrapped their swords in blue sword-aura, she — a transmigrator — was channeling a similar force of her own.
Its name: Mandarin Aura.
Mandarin Aura
Channel mana into agricultural tools to instantly ripen and sweeten crops
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—!
Darin wiped the beads of sweat from her brow and moved swiftly through the orchard. Whenever the aura-charged shovel tapped a crushed, scarred orange, the misshapen fruit miraculously recovered its vitality.
Every orange the aura touched, no matter its condition, turned sweet and tart and perfect.
The power was so absolute that even bland crops like radishes and celery stood no chance. Brush against that razor-sharp orange aura, and any bitter vegetable or fruit would inevitably turn sweet and bright.
Dunkin, who had been staring at her beauty in a daze, let out a startled cry, eyes gone wide.
"A-are you a knight, by any chance?"
"…I wish I were."
Darin pulled a rueful little pout, but her right hand never stopped swinging the shovel. Mandarin Aura was still something that required mana to manifest, and her mana pool was no larger than a grain of millet. Whatever she meant to do, she had to finish it before her reserves ran dry.
"That's — as far as I know, that's a knight's aura, though the color is quite different…"
"It's nothing so grand. Just a kind of magic."
"Um… could you tell me what sort of magic it is?"
"……"
At the continued questions, the woman's face flushed red. Talking about it would only leave her feeling inadequate. Ever since meeting the Hero, that feeling had come more often. Even among fellow transmigrators, the gap in power was that vast.
"I-I'm sorry… if I've been rude…"
Seeing the young-looking woman's cheeks turn scarlet, Dunkin apologized at once. He didn't know what he had done wrong, but he had no desire to fall out of favor with this beautiful lady.
Darin steadied her hot breath, panting. Perhaps from all the sweat — a sweet body scent rose from her skin.
"No, I'm the one who wasn't very mature about it."
She accepted the servant's apology without hesitation. Thinking about it, this was her own inferiority complex talking.
Dunkin, on the other hand, looked puzzled. A little girl who hadn't even come of age, calling herself immature…?
His gaze drifted forward of its own accord. Maybe she was older than she looked. Judging by the full swell of her chest and the generous span of her hips, she might be as old as her late teens, at a stretch…
"I'm the narrow-minded one. If anyone was rude, it was me…"
"N-no, not at all!"
She watched Dunkin wave his hands, face still red. Being from outside the territory, he seemed especially shy — unable even to meet her eyes properly, head bowed the whole time.
Still, he's a new servant. I should at least learn his face.
Dunkin was a handsome young man with brown hair and gentle eyes. For a farmer, his neat appearance suggested a reasonably comfortable family background.
Hmm. A bit bashful, but I bet he's made more than a few country girls cry.
Whenever Darin saw a clean-cut, good-looking young man like Dunkin, a smile rose unbidden. Somehow he reminded her of her son, Kael.
Lately, though, the thought left her a little melancholy. The son she had imagined and the son who truly existed were not the same.
That baby face with a body like that — she's a bitch who showed up just to seduce men.
While she was thinking such pure thoughts, Dunkin was staring holes through her breasts and hips.
"Is something wrong?"
Looking at that pure, tilted face, he decided he probably didn't need to worry about being taken for a molester. Embarrassed, Dunkin cleared his throat and tried to cover.
"M-my name is Dunkin."
He had meant to introduce himself with some flair, but she was so beautiful his tongue stumbled. Darin accepted the young man's greeting with a soft laugh and a nod.
"Hello, Dunkin. I'm Darin."
And like a proper lady of rank, she offered a refined, graceful greeting.
Flushed by the excessive courtesy, he turned his eyes to the distant hills and pressed on.
"Um… do you work here, by any chance?"
"Yes. You just started today, didn't you, Dunkin?"
"That's right."
"Then we'll be seeing each other often."
"Ah — really?"
"Of course. I work here too."
Inwardly he crowed with triumph. To keep working alongside a beauty this absurd? They weren't even lovers yet, but already in his mind he and this woman named Darin were holding hands, watching the sunset with their grandchildren.
"I-if it wouldn't be too forward… would you have some free time this evening…"
A man once famous in his village as a playboy bowed his head with desperate sincerity. That was how deeply she had struck him. In that brief encounter, Dunkin had lost his soul entirely — as if eternity had been stolen in a single moment.
"Ah…"
Faced with this, Darin finally understood why the man had been so restless. She wanted a good working relationship, but the line had to be drawn clearly. Once he learned she was the Viscountess, he would back off on his own.
"I'm a married woman."
"Wh…!?"
"I have two children."
"???"
Darin smiled, intending to close the conversation. It was a warm, gentle smile — but the content was so shocking that Dunkin could only stare into empty air for several long seconds, still mid-reply.
And then it happened.
Without warning, a corner of the orange orchard warped —
A strange roar hummed through the air as space itself began to split open.
"Mm…?"
Darin's head turned. To someone whose only power was a humble orange ability, a dimensional gate was utterly foreign. Understanding what she was seeing took her quite some time.
Click.
A long leg stepped out through the rift. What followed was the face of a golden-haired young man of extraordinary beauty. His golden eyes shone even more brilliantly than his hair — and that distinctive appearance told Darin at once who he was.
The man who had crossed the dimensional gate looked at the girl staring blankly up at him, then smiled and offered a greeting.
"Have you been well, Darin?"