Hyacinth Desjardins.
Just from hearing that name, Reine finds herself unconsciously standing up from her office chair, the sudden force enough to almost topple it over. Her free hand slams down on the table with urgency, which reverberates the sound of the impact.
"What the hell are you even thinking?! Did we not agree not to drag her into this mess even with our hands tied?!" She can hear how almost hysterical the words are dropping out of her mouth with no pause whatsoever, but she can care less about the minuscule details now.
"It's time you stop clinging to your dreams of unbreakable promises, Descoteaux. You are far from naive, but this is the only weakness that will hold you back in the future if you are not careful. Desjardins… is no longer the same woman you are seeking from the past."
Although his words are merciless and harsh, yet infuriatingly calm enough to spike the pain in Reine's temples, the undeniable truth in them is enough to render her silent and helpless. She gazes behind her to the window unabashedly presenting the authentic beauty of Paris, even in the summer sun's sweltering rays of heat. Every skyscraper and tourist destination are a sight to behold, but as soon as her eyes land on the flora and fauna right outside her office's balcony—
"How can you just let your balcony be this lonely, Reine? Flowers can bring the necessary vibrancy you lack in the way you live! Oh, don't look so scary… I only ever speak the truth, you see."
Shutting her eyes in ashamed defeat, Reine tightens her quivering hold on the phone before finally speaking up to shatter the long silence. "… And what of the fact she is no longer the woman I know? How does this matter to that "grand scheme" of yours?"
"I am relieved you have not lost your wits yet. To answer that, Desjardins has been invited to the auction banquet tomorrow night. Don't worry, she will be treated with the utmost respect as if she has always been one of our longtime VIPs."
Hearing the unbelievable arrogance in the man's voice, Reine reins in the urge to insult him senselessly by gritting her teeth.
"Then… I assume you have a new duty for me?"
She can already picture his repulsive smirk even before a reply is heard, and it only serves to despair Reine of how the future will unfold from now on.
"That's right. To keep a pearl from straying away from its clam, one must covet it and bring forth its potential untainted by filth."
"Hyacinth Desjardins must glow beyond
than a struggling perfumer in a dainty florist shop, and you, Reine Descoteaux, know exactly what I am implying here."
—
With fingers entwining the soft silk around the perfume bottle, Hyacinth finishes the ribbon with practiced ease and effort. She smiles and nods to herself, before handing it over to the female customer in a packaging entirely made of rattan and wisteria.
"Oh my, I have never seen a packaging like this before! It's innovative and resourceful of you."
This is not the first time a compliment of the exact adjectives are constructed and spoken with admiration, but it never fails to warm Hyacinth's heart. Her smile visibly widens while she's well on her way to concoct another batch of perfumes perfect for the summer heat.
"It's nothing extraordinary, really. I have always believed to use materials safe for our beautiful environment."
"Of course, of course! I will be sure to visit here again soon. Thank you so much, demoiselle."
Hyacinth merely waves back in response with that kind smile still on her lips, but once she hears the chime of the door to confirm the customer's official exit, she drops her hand down and exhales out a disheartened sigh.
"That's… the third customer now." She mumbles to herself with a self-deprecating smile this time around.
She pauses there for a moment to collect her thoughts and feelings, then proceeds to walk back to her workstation hidden behind her collection of potted flowers and plants on shelves and even hanging up on the ceiling. What greets her there is the soft, warm glow of the setting sun from the window casting its light onto the marble table to reveal a haphazard mess of differing perfume bottle sizes and tiny jars of flowery or fruity scents. Some are on the verge of a tragic fall to the floor, while others are left unopened and dripping out liquid.
A frown ends up making its way into Hyacinth's thin lips, before silently cleaning up the disaster she brought forth without even a sliver of awareness. With every bottle or jar she tightens into her grasp, that persistent feeling of "hollowness" slithers its way back into her exhausted mind and discouraged heart.
I'm not usually this careless… This is my passion. My dream. As a child, I wanted nothing more. And yet—
The sudden chime from the door snaps her out of her reverie.
As if she drank a rejuvenating potion, Hyacinth rushes to sweep up orderly cleanliness into her workstation before bounding out to the counter with her classic signature smile — demure and sweet, yet eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.
"Good afternoon, monsieur! Do you have a preference for scents, or have you already chosen a bottle from the display rack here?"
While waiting for an answer, Hyacinth discreetly observes the young man's appearance in front of her. His hair seems to be the color of muted brown — similar to exquisite sand in a beach, she muses in amusement — and his downturned, hazel eyes naturally complement his rather form-fitting beige turtleneck. Other than that, the man appears to be holding an expensive-looking envelope with both hands.
His smile is gentlemanly and polite, until he opens his mouth to speak in a sheepish and apologetic manner. "Ah, excuse my rudeness. I'm not here to buy any perfume. I was only sent here to give you this invitation."
His response instantly deflates Hyacinth's previous giddy mood, until she manages to process his other statement in time to watch as he gently slides the envelope she saw earlier to her side of the counter. Shock and disbelief freezes her body and practiced smile in place, only able to blink rapidly multiple times to check if her hallucinations and nightmares finally caught up to her deteriorating psyche.
"Oh… are you sure you're not… mistaken?" She tilts her head to the side while the rapid, semi-comical blinking continues.
The man forces out a smile with undisguised pity this time. "I cannot afford to do mistakes, lest I want to face the consequences. A woman with an appearance like yours is quite easy to spot and remember."
That only serves to perplex Hyacinth even more, but decides to trust his word for it and accepts the invitation with reluctance. Now that it's within her hold, her nerves tingle with anxiety upon seeing there are unfamiliar intricate patterns in gold foil on the surface. Even without touching them, she can already gauge the material to be expensively authentic.
"It's best if you open it once you are back in the safety and comfort of your home."
He must have sensed my curiosity to inquire about its content… There must be a reason why he threw out that precaution.
Not knowing what else to do, Hyacinth obediently nods and whispers out her gratitude. But suddenly, she then takes out a random perfume bottle from the display rack and pushes it to the young man's side of the counter. Her attitude brooks no refusal or argument, so he ends up helpless at her unwavering determination.
"There is really no need…"
"Then if you won't even accept a free perfume bottle, at least tell me your name, monsieur."
He shakes his head with a chuckle, before shrugging and extending a hand. "You may just call me Liron, kindhearted lady."
Hyacinth accepts the handshake with a broad smile, but as soon as she's about to introduce herself as well, her eyes widen from a sudden epiphany then she gasps and points at the man with her other free hand trembling in what looks to be excitement.
"Liron? Liron Cadence Morgan?! The man who is deemed to be a piano prodigy from Wales?!"