Rosaline looked at the empty chair across from her.

Rain struck the pavilion roof, filling the silence between mother and son. Elliot stood there beneath the umbrella, clutching his stuffed bear as if the thing might run away if he loosened his grip.

Rosaline’s fingers rested against the handle of her teacup before finally setting it down.

"...Only for a little while."

Elliot’s face brightened immediately. Not by much, just a small smile that a child usually tries to hide because looking too happy might make the answer change.

But in this gloomy memory, it was almost painfully bright.

The youngest climbed onto the chair with both hands, shoes dangling above the floor before he managed to sit properly. Once he settled, he placed the stuffed bear on the table beside him.

Rosaline’s eyes moved toward it. "Elliot. Must you bring that everywhere?"

Elliot looked down at the bear. Its brown fur had been worn thin in several places. One button eye looked looser than the other, and one of its ears had been stitched back on with thread of different colors.

"...He gets lonely."

Rosaline’s expression twisted at the words. Deon couldn’t tell what it was. Guilt, maybe...or recognition.

Either way, she picked her teacup back up. "Then teach him how to endure it."

Deon clenched his fist from the side of the pavilion. If he actually existed in this scene, he would come out and punch her in the face—regardless on if she was the Lady or not.

How could you say that to your own child who was clearly projecting his feelings?

But despite all that, Elliot answered simply. "Yes, Mother..."

After a moment of silence, an attendant stepped forward, placing a fresh cup in front of Elliot. His hands moved immediately, almost like muscle memory, to the condiments on the side of the table.

One spoonful of sugar...two...three...four...

Little man, that’s not tea you’re drinking anymore...

And Rosaline seemed to agree, her eyebrows twitching at once. "Elliot."

The boy froze with the spoon still in his hand. "Yes, Mother?"

"That is far too much sugar."

"Oh."

"Remember. Tea is served according to the occasion," she said quietly. "A household must know what to serve, when to serve it, and how to serve it. It shows refinement."

Elliot nodded, clearly not understanding what she was saying, but stared regardless. "So...when someone is sad, what tea do you serve?"

"..."

"There is no tea like that."

"There isn’t?"

"No."

"But there should be."

"Why?"

"Because people get sad a lot."

Elliot looked down at his cup, then reached for the milk pitcher. This time, Rosaline did not stop him as he poured until the dark tea turned pale and cloudy.

"Tea is bitter."

"It is supposed to be."

"But bitter tea makes sad people sadder," he stated plainly, before pushing his cup towards her. "So sweet tea makes people happier."

When the Lady didn’t respond, Elliot simply pushed the cup a little closer. "You can have mine. It’s not bitter anymore."

Rosaline stared at the cup before laughing softly to herself. This time, it was a laugh more genuine, when someone really did find something funny.

But the problem here was...why did she find it funny? And the answer was simple—it made her realize her own insecurity, whether intentional or not.

"Sweet tea doesn’t make people happy, Elliot. Milk doesn’t soften the world and sugar doesn’t fix sadness."

"Tea is supposed to be bitter," she cut him off. "That is the point."

Rosaline suddenly stood up, taking the cup with her and stepping out into the pouring rain.

Elliot followed right behind, not knowing where she was going. "But—"

"Not your father. Not this house. Not the things I cannot change."

"Mother...?"

"It needs to be bitter enough...then I can focus on that instead..."

Deon’s eyes widened immediately at what she said. Wait...was she actually using tea as a substitute for alcohol?! Is she insane?

"Let your mother teach you one thing, Elliot."

She stopped by the nearby rosebush that was just hidden off to the side. And from where Deon stood, he could already see the tragedy.

Crouching down with practiced fingers, Rosaline parted the dark petals just enough to reveal the small sac beneath the rose.

"You think sweetness fixes sadness? Then watch carefully."

Her fingers tightened around the cup before tipping it slightly. "Even the sweetest bloom hides something bitter underneath. Because after all—"

"Some things are bitter because that is all they can be."

Then she poured. Not all at once, but deliberately. The pale tea steamed over the crimson petals, soaking into the flower and causing it to curl.

The beautiful bloom shrank beneath the heat, dark edges crumpling inwards as steam emerged between its layers. And after a moment...all that was left was the sac.

Elliot’s eyes widened.

"No..."

Rosaline lowered the cup. Only then did she seem to notice his expression.

"Elliot—"

But the boy had already moved.

"That was for you!"

He sprinted forward, reaching toward the ruined flower with both hands, as if he could somehow gather the spilled tea back into the cup, as if he could save whatever was left of the gift he had tried to give her.

Rosaline’s face paled instantly. "Don’t touch it!"

But it was too late. His small fingers brushed the exposed sac, causing it to split and break. A pale green vapor burst outward, causing Elliot to cough as he inhaled it. Then his knees buckled.

"Mother...?" 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

The cup slipped from Rosaline’s hand and shattered against the grass as she rushed over to his side.

"What—no...why would you touch it?! Elliot, please. Stay with me!"

Her hands hovered over him, trembling uselessly.

For all her grace, etiquette, and knowledge of the Velvet Rose, only now did Lady Rosaline finally look like a real mother.

She pulled him into her arms without caring about the poison, without caring about the rain or the servants shouting behind her.

"Elliot!"

Deon stood only a few steps away. He knew it was a memory, and that there was nothing he could do.

But still...he reached out regardless. Yet, his fingers only passed through them. Rosaline didn’t hear him, Elliot didn’t hear him. They simply couldn’t.

"Damn it..." Deon muttered.

The boy’s eyes fluttered, unfocused. "I...I only wanted...for you to smile..."

[Playback Duration Limit Approaching.]

"Wait," Deon snapped. "Not yet!"

The garden started blurring around him, servants becoming smears of gray. The pavilion stretched and twisted, trembling as if the whole world was being rewound back to its original state.

Rosaline clutched Elliot tighter. "No, no, no...someone help him! Someone help my son!"

[Playback Stability: Critical.]

"ELLIOT!"

The memory shattered. And within his next blink, he was back in the present. Right where he had left off.

[Playback Ended.]