?The Lavender Garden - Hyacinth?

  I did not talk to Sylvainne for a few months; I could not bring myself to. I would catch glimpses of her, get curious, yet ultimately stop myself. Then, a rumour caught my attention.

  Sylvainne was seeing the fourth prince. The fourth prince is not someone I know much about, but I know what he looks like. He has the same blonde hair as Ateia, but his eyes are what set him apart. His eyes are a shade of gold. From an outsider's perspective, it might look great for the royal family. However, the fourth prince is someone with significant backing and prospects to inherit the throne. This is why the crown initially pushed for Sylvainne's engagement to the second prince. Unlike the other princes, the second prince has no desire for the throne nor the backbone to define themself. Due to this revelation, the fight for the throne got increasingly more complicated.

  Sylvainne continued attending parties as if nothing happened. She never confirmed the rumours, nor did she deny them. She was still the ever-mysterious Sylvainne Vaelor—the Lavender of High Society.

  In the coming months, the fight for the throne became increasingly intense. The sides could not agree on who to crown as successor. This indecision tensed the whole nation. As the fight seemed to mellow out, a tragedy befell the Empire.

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  The fourth prince was assassinated. It was tragic; the people mourned him. Everyone was in tears during the funeral. Everyone but Sylvainne. She remained composed. She was saddened but not in tears. Her face was flushed, her cheeks were damp, but her eyes—her eyes remained clear and steady. They were the eyes of someone with a goal. That was when something hit me.

  The fourth prince's body was never recovered. The casket was empty. The crown had no answers.

  In the following days, I desperately tried looking for answers. My curiosity could not let me be. Was there really a tragedy? If he was alive, what was the purpose? Who helped him? Does Sylvainne know?

  Before I could get the answers, everyone stopped talking. It was as if the subject became taboo overnight. Then, Sylvainne gradually disappeared from high society. She stopped showing up to balls or visiting the royal palace. Rumours spread that she was in mourning, but I never truly believed it. Sylvainne, from what I saw, is not someone who would let grief define her.

  While Sylvainne disappeared, her presence was still felt. Only this time, the striking white hair was nowhere to be found. But even someone as enigmatic as Sylvainne would be forgotten by high society.

  People get replaced. Rumours spread. Everyone forgets. Soon, no one looked for her; no one felt her presence. She was like a myth that existed only in my memory.

  In the end, I had no choice but to follow suit. I acquainted myself with new people. I officially became an heir. I had marriage talks with a marquis.

  Still, I find myself looking for her—for a single lavender to appear in front of me. And for years, I never truly found anything like her.