You Only Know Its Value After Losing It
Screeech... The carriage racing through the back alleys slows to a halt.
"The bill, please!"
At those words, Rosewin—who'd been fidgeting restlessly inside—leaps out, leaving the female employee behind with her hollow gaze and cigarette in hand.
"No, wait here."
"...Pardon?"
"I-I'm just gonna grab it real quick, so stay put."
"......."
The employee stares blankly at her, forgetting to even exhale her cigarette smoke.
"Wha—cough, cough!"
She starts to ask a question, only to choke on a lungful of smoke.
"What else? Fl-flowers, obviously!"
"...Flowers?"
"Th-there's gotta be at least one left. I got so many..."
Rosewin mumbles evasively, avoiding the employee's eyes.
"You didn't... throw them all out, did you?"
She asks with a hint of fear in her voice.
"...See for yourself."
"I don't like you lately."
The employee slumps back in her chair, too drained to even retort, muttering under her breath. Rosewin shoots her a glare and heads toward the guild.
"...You've never liked me."
Watching her go, the employee pouts, sticks the cigarette back in her mouth, and murmurs to herself.
"Hmm."
Of course, oblivious to the employee's woes, Rosewin steps into her guild and starts pondering.
Right, let's check the reception room first.
That's where she heads first. Most of her meetings with Frey had happened there, so she figures a few flowers might still linger.
"Heave-ho."
She disables the security and enters the lavish reception room reserved for VIPs.
"Hm..."
True to her obsessive cleanliness, the room is spotless—not a speck of dust in sight.
"Come to think of it... right here..."
As she scans the room, memories flood back: the vase Frey left behind with those golden flowers. She approaches the desk cautiously.
—Swoosh...
She gazes at the vase—smashed in a fit of rage back then, but restored with repair magic. On a whim, she checks the trash bin by her feet.
—Clank...!
"...Ugh."
It's empty. She can't stand filth, so she empties the bin weekly. The priceless golden rose Frey had poured his heart into preparing for her had long since been incinerated with the trash.
"....."
Realizing this now, she falls silent, gently caressing the vase.
"It was pretty, though."
She mutters glumly and begins slowly scanning the room.
"Lots of flowers... but..."
The reception room brimmed with fragrant blooms.
"...None I need right now."
Half were ones she'd bought herself, the other half gifts from Ruby.
"Let's go."
She rummages through drawers, bookshelves, even behind the coat rack—but finds neither flower nor petal. With a dejected expression, she leaves the reception room.
".....!"
Her eyes catch the fragrant flowers adorning the hallway walls. And... the photo of herself making a V-sign with "Hero Ruby."
Items she'd proudly hung just days ago. Rosewin's eyes widen.
"Wh-what the...?"
A strange unease creeps in as she heads to her next stop: her own room.
"Let's see..."
Wearing an odd expression, she enters and starts searching diligently.
Her severe germophobia usually made searches a nightmare, but her room's pristine state made it easy.
".....Ugh."
But then, a bizarre phenomenon strikes.
"Ughhh..."
Every time she spots a flower from Ruby or a photo with her, a headache throbs.
"Aghhh..."
She'd thought it was just excitement—her lifelong dream of serving the hero finally coming true, heart swelling with joy.
But today, it brought no joy at all.
Something's wrong.
That faint certainty burrowed deep into her mind.
"Hah... haaa."
She abandons the search, bolts from her room, and starts panting heavily.
"What the hell... seriously..."
After confusing herself with these unknown emotions and anomalies for a while, she starts walking somewhere again.
"Ugh... I h-hate this."
She arrives at a slightly shabby, rough iron door.
"...Hng."
Hesitating with eyes closed, she cautiously opens it, revealing the guild's basement storage.
"Ughhh..."
The damp, musty air—spiderwebs forming no matter how well-maintained—made it one of her most hated places.
She usually sent staff for anything here, but today she steels herself and steps in.
"...Hmph."
Each step brings disgust. Hot, unrefined air clings to her skin; thick dust irritates her nose, mouth, eyes; spiderwebs snag her face.
"Eek, eeeeek..."
In any other circumstance, she'd scream and flee, but she grits her teeth and presses on.
"...Huh?"
Then she spots a plant stem and her eyes widen.
"F-found...!"
She grabs it with a bright smile—but her face falls instantly.
"...it."
Who knew how long it'd been here? The flower was rotten to the core.
The pink rose beside it, the tulips next, the lilies below, the daisies above—all the same.
Everyone knows flowers wilt without light, but Rosewin—too busy discarding Frey's gifts from her sight—had caused this disaster.
"N-no... this can't... it shouldn't be like this..."
Cornered, she loses her composure, face paling in desperation.
—Shaaaa...
Clinging to faint hope, she infuses the flowers with her solar mana.
"If this works, maybe..."
As they glow, she swallows hard and focuses.
—Fwoosh...!
"Ah..."
Of course, the withered flowers turn to ash instead of reviving. Dead things don't bloom again under sunlight.
"Th-then..."
Sweating coldly, she grabs a nearby rose and casts repair magic.
"...No way it'd work."
But eventually, she drops it with a dazed mutter. No magic revives the dead—it's forbidden, violating the world's laws. Not even ancient archmages or the current Tower Lord and Irina could attempt it.
"M-maybe I can take this one...? The color's still kinda there...?"
She picks up a canary flower with faint hue left.
—Plop, plop...
Its petals scatter from the stem.
"........"
Staring at what no one could call a flower anymore, she finally leaves the warehouse—dusty, webbed, silent—abandoning the withered blooms.
—Thud, thud...
Unlike her arrival, she trudges weakly to the bathroom.
—Splashhh...
At the sink, she turns on the water and scrubs furiously.
"Wh-who does he think he is... laying down conditions like that..."
She mutters at her reflection.
"What? Bring a flower and he'll talk? Who does he—"
Normally she'd rant for minutes, but today it fizzles out.
"He really didn't leave any flowers?"
She stares at her mirror self, then bows her head.
"Not a single one?"
Of course, no answer comes.
—Splashhh...
She silently washes off the dust and webs for a long time.
"...Ugh."
Suddenly, memories hit: the morning photo, the carriage scene. Her face twists.
"Ugh..."
Lulu, nibbling Frey's ear with eyes closed—moments ago calling him "Master" and pouncing. Irina, the proud mage she'd known, blushing at his touch.
Their gazes as the carriage door shut: love, and... lust.
So then.
"......"
What about the abnormal glint and expression in her mirror reflection? Rage? Sorrow? Regret? Longing? Despair? Helplessness? Anxiety? Fear? Tension?
Even she had to admit it now. The past few days' odd state. Greeting guests with eager hope, only to slump in disappointment—failing at expression control. Her heart churning since Frey's breakup notice. That twisting envy at the women fawning over him.
All pointed to one truth.
"I... I..."
For some reason.
"I......"
She missed Frey.
"N-no way. Impossible."
Realizing it, she splashes water on her stunned face.
"Why would I... what do I have to regret..."
She tries to deny it, escape reality.
"......."
But memories from the past surface unbidden.
A day she felt unusually ill, like a bad cold. Bedridden and groaning, Frey bursts in uninvited—pale, door splintered.
She gapes at him incredulously. He wipes sweat and offers flowers.
"Rosewin, sorry I'm late. Here..."
"Get out!! How rude!!"
Already irritable in pajamas, she explodes, screaming him out.
"...Hehe."
Frey leaves grinning ear to ear, for some reason delighted.
The memory stuck deep. Fuming in bed, the ever-smiley employee whispers darkly.
"Miss."
"Yeah?"
"Sometimes you don't know what's precious till you lose it."
"What?"
"Before it comes to that... cough!!"
"Wh-what's wrong with you?"
She recovered days later; the employee was bedridden a week.
"........"
She'd scoffed at the words then. But now, why did they echo relentlessly?
"Ugh..."
Suddenly, past moments with Frey feel... meaningful.
Frey beaming, handing her bouquets. Granting any request, asking nothing in return. The only one visiting during illness, when even parents stayed away. Rejected coldly yet always returning with that sly grin: "Next time for sure."
"Ugh..."
Memories that once boiled her blood now seem... pleasant. No, precious.
"What the... really..."
Unable to accept, lost in turmoil, she leaves the bathroom.
"I-it's just a mistake... I'm tired, that's all..."
Final denial.
"It's real, though..."
Before she knows it, she's hurrying somewhere.
"H-hey, you!"
She reaches the carriage she'd left waiting outside the guild.
"...What's wrong?"
"Uh, um... Get out of the carriage. We have places to go."
"Where?"
The employee, baffled after waiting so long, tilts her head.
"Th-that big flower shop nearby."
"A flower shop? Why?"
"G-gonna buy flowers. To apologize to Frey... no, as a gift. He seemed really pissed; gotta cheer him up."
"A gift?"
"And stationery too. The expensive kind. And then..."
Rosewin blurts it out. The employee cocks her head blankly.
"Why the sudden change? Did you just realize how precious he is?"
Asked soullessly, Rosewin flusters.
"I-I don't know. Just come. Lots to do today. I need your help."
She turns and strides off.
"Sigh......"
The employee exhales heavy smoke.
—Crumple...
Crushes the envelope in her hand.
"Why jump on the bandwagon now... too late anyway."
She mutters darkly, stepping out of the carriage.
"Still, I'll watch."
The sun now hung high overhead.
"No matter what, karma never fades."