Journey to Rose Valley…
The sun was still hidden in the crevices of the hills. Morning dew clung to the wild rose petals growing along the rocky path. A thin mist descended, shrouding the path to Rose Valley.
Tak… tak… tak…
Tuk… tuk… tuk…
The sound of a troop of horses slowly descended the rocky path. At the head of the troop was a beautiful woman dressed in a black investigator's uniform, a long brown coat, and a bowler hat. Detective Clara sat quietly on her horse.
Her purple hair, tied in a ponytail, swayed gently in the gentle valley breeze. Her face was calm yet alert. Her green eyes constantly scanned the valley.
Canaries chirped in the tree branches. Dew danced on the wild rose petals. The cool air pierced her skin.
Clara sighed, "This valley… is too peaceful," she murmured softly.
Clara stopped in the middle of the rocky path. She looked back.
Elite knights in white and gold robes rode on white horses. They followed Clara, standing guard silently and respecting her as a royal detective who often solved difficult cases alone.
"We have arrived at the Valley of Roses. From here… the investigation into the fugitive begins."
"Now it's time to work!" Clara's instructions were short and clear.
Clara and her entourage continued their journey until they reached the village gate.
—
Welcoming Roses…
Clara entered the village gate. Her white horse moved slowly and steadily.
Her green eyes continued to survey the village surroundings… until something caught Clara's attention and made her horse slow.
By the side of the road… red roses were blooming. These roses were no ordinary roses. Their petals were a deep red… like the colour of blood.
Clara narrowed her eyes… the morning breeze blew the red rose petals, and one of them hit Clara's white face as if the roses were welcoming her.
Clara smelled a faint scent. The scent of blood and roses mixed… fragrant and pungent. This scent… felt familiar, as if Clara had smelled it before.
Clara held her breath for a moment. A faint memory flashed… an image of a grand mansion covered in blood and roses, and the blue eyes of a girl staring coldly at a corpse.
Clara held her head. Her memory was still hazy… after the memory artefact incident seven years ago.
Clara closed her eyes. "Have I ever smelled the scent of blood roses?"
But she shook her head. "No… I haven't… at least not in the last seven years."
Clara stared up at the cloudy sky. "Am… am I forgetting something important?!" she whispered.
The valley breeze blew the rose petals… and carried Clara's unanswered whisper. The wind blew towards the market. And in the market… a gentle young mother and her innocent little daughter were shopping.
—
Reunion...
Marry was selecting beef at the butcher's stall. A warm smile spread across her delicate face as she watched her little daughter, Caelan, trotting along carrying a bag of red apples.
A breeze from the valley carried rose petals, which fell into Marry's hands. She grasped them and closed her eyes.
When her eyelids fluttered open, she knew that a group of white horsemen had entered the village.
A few moments later, a group of elite knights in armour rode into the village on white horses. At the head of the group was a purple-haired woman.
Caelan pointed to the group of horses. "Mom, who are they?"
Marry paused for a moment, staring at the group of horses, then replied, "Honey, they are royal knights."
The purple-haired woman stopped in the middle of the market street. Her green eyes scanned the market.
The villagers crowded the market street. Clara glanced to the side of the road, her green eyes meeting blue.
Clara parked her horse at the side of the road. She stepped toward Marry, who was still frozen on the side of the road.
Instantly, her old instincts as a bloody executioner arose. There was an unseen tension in the air. It was as if two spirits from the past were staring at each other through their new skins.
But Clara showed no sign of recognising her. Instead, she simply stood at the side of the road, nodding politely to the gathered villagers.
"Good morning, villagers. I am Clara, a royal detective. I am on an investigative mission to find two dangerous fugitives. We will be staying in this village for a while to gather information. Please cooperate."
Clara's voice was firm yet gentle. Then… she looked at Marry for a moment and stepped to the side of the road.
"Mrs, excuse me… may I ask you something later?"
Marry nodded slowly.
"Of course. I am just a young mother."
Clara glanced briefly at little Caelan. Her green eyes met her sky-clear blue ones.
Caelan tilted her small head, and then she smiled cheerfully.
"Hello, Pretty Sister!"
A faint smile spread across Clara's face without her realising it.
"Hello, sweet little sister."
Caelan's blue eyes sparkled when she saw Clara's cool uniform.
"Big sister... a royal knight?!" Caelan asked innocently.
"No... but big sister, royal detective..." Clara patted her chest with her right hand. "... sweet sister, what's your name?"
Caelan tried to open her tiny lips... but before she could answer Clara's question, Marry pulled her daughter up and cradled little Caelan in her arms.
"This is Caelan... my little daughter. Caelan, say 'hello' to big sister detective!"
"Hello, big sister detective! I'm Caelan... I'm Mommy's daughter." Caelan waved her tiny hand at Clara.
Clara smiled warmly. Her little daughter was truly adorable.
"Hello! Sweet little sister, I'm Detective Clara. I'll be staying in this village for a while... please cooperate with Mrs. Marry and little sister Caelan," she said softly.
"Of course, I'll help in any way I can," Marry answered briefly.
"Caelan will help sister detective," Cealan said, raising her two tiny hands above her head.
That morning… two important figures met: the royal detective and the former tyrant's executioner. They greeted each other and smiled.
Clara smiled warmly at the young mother… unknowingly, ten years ago, they had met… not in the market, but in an old church… not to greet each other… but to address the dark takbir of the tyrannical world.
—
A Sneaking Memory…
As the day turned to night, Clara sat on a wooden chair in her village inn room. On the table in front of her, reports piled up. However, her mind wasn't on them.
Instead, she was drawing the face of the young mother she had seen at the market earlier.
That woman… was so beautiful and elegant.
A face as white as snow. Shining silver hair. Sky-blue eyes.
A polite and dignified manner of speaking. Even her every step was as graceful and elegant as a princess's. She was clearly not your average young mother in the village.
Clara stopped drawing. She held her chin and paused for a moment. She felt… like something felt familiar.
The woman's blue eyes were so gentle as she gazed at the little daughter in her arms. But somehow… when Clara studied those blue pupils… they were too calm for someone who called herself a 'young mother'.
Those blue eyes were like a deep sea that held many secrets.
Such a gaze could only belong to someone who had seen the darkness of the world and walked the fine line between life and death.
Clara held her head. "I've definitely seen that woman… but when? And where?"
Clara closed her eyes… she tried to piece together the pieces of memories that had been forgotten since the incident that caused the world's memory to collapse seven years ago.
In her reverie… she vaguely saw the figure of a woman in a blood rose dress… She held a red sword and stared at her before disappearing into the silent night.
Clara opened her green eyes. She paused for a moment in front of her desk.
"Who are you, really? Have we met?" she whispered into the stillness of the night.
But the night didn't answer Clara's whisper. Her whisper vanished with the silence and the blurring of the mysterious woman's identity in her mind.
—
Seeds of Suspicion and Attraction…
The next day, Clara returned to the village. She asked the villagers about the silver-haired young woman and her little daughter.
The villagers responded enthusiastically. Most of them said the young woman was named Marry, a gentle young woman who loved to help the villagers. She lived on the hill outside the village.
Clara thanked the villagers. Then she walked towards the hill outside the village.
Clara walked along the hill. Along the path, the hill was covered with green grass and wild roses. She stopped under a tree… and quietly observed Marry from a distance.
She saw Marry teaching her little daughter to write letters with a twig on the ground. Her face was so serene.
Every movement was so elegant. Too perfect for someone claiming to be a young mother.
Yet strangely, there wasn't a hint of evil in her aura. No hatred. No intention to harm.
All Clara saw was… the sincere love of a young mother for her little daughter. The woman was clearly not a bad person.
But her mysterious aura confused Clara.
"Marry, who are you really?" Clara murmured.
Clara continued to observe Marry teaching little Caelan to read and write.
The young mother was so patient, gentle, and sincere in educating her little daughter.
Clara even saw the young mother hugging and kissing her daughter's cheek during their study sessions. The young mother was too perfect to be a single parent to a little girl.
And somehow… watching the warm interaction between Marry and Caelan, Clara's heart felt at peace.
She continued to watch the young mother and her little daughter until the sky was painted golden. And Clara returned to the inn as the sun set in the west.
—
Behind the Rose Curtain...
That night, Clara sat at her desk. Her delicate hands were busy writing a report on a white sheet of paper.
"Day 1: The village seemed peaceful. The two fugitives had not been found. However… I met a woman who stirred something in my memory."
"Her blue eyes were calm, like a hunter's, but her gaze was also gentle, like the gaze of a mother loving her little daughter."
"I'm… confused."
"I asked the villagers… about the silver-haired woman and her little daughter. They agreed that the woman… Marry was a gentle young mother who loved to help the villagers."
"Meanwhile, her little daughter, Caelan, was a sweet and innocent little girl who brought joy to the villagers."
Then Clara continued to write down the activities of Marry and Caelan that she had secretly observed.
When the page was covered in black ink, she turned to the next white sheet and wrote again… On the last page, she drew a blood rose.
Clara closed her book. She leaned back in her wooden chair and stared up at the ceiling.
"Am I… starting to remember something I shouldn't?"
That night… Clara had no idea that her curiosity would lead her back to buried wounds.
When a young detective is shaken by the sight of a bloodthirsty executioner… and from that moment on, their destinies are intertwined… and Clara can never go back.