The Good Witch of the Lake

Thankfully, Roze is able to restrain herself from shoving that drug she left at the corner of the room into his mouth—otherwise, Tien would already be charred black right now.

"…Why do you only have the flashy ones with you?"

"Hey! These are what my mother wore when she's still young! You're the one who said 'Anything is fine.'—remember? And to be interested in dressing-up, this is not like you! Did something happen? …Now I'm getting riled up. I have a great idea—how about 'custom-made'? We can request the tailor for something that befits 'the Witch of the Lake', I'm sure they'll come up with something cute! No need to worry about money—this one's on me!"

"'Cute'…? But I'm already twenty-three…"

"Exactly! You're still twenty-three!"

That being said, Roze is a little curious about Tien.

She first met him when she was ten years old. Scared of the young man, young Roze hid behind her grandmother's skirt. Between thirteen years ago and now, Tien's appearance hasn't changed much despite being ten years older than her.

Is it because of his oriental blood?

From an early age, Tien has been learning the merchant's trades from his father. Roughly a decade ago, he succeeded his family business. Ever since then, he has been in charge of his house. He admits he isn't as good as his father—nevertheless, it doesn't trouble him.

Tien and his family have helped me a lot—even after grandma died.

Without him, she won't have been able to build a tomb for her grandmother.

For that, she's thankful to him—of course, she is too embarrassed to say it out loud.

She looks at the flood of colors spread all over her room.

Surely they're all first-class products, selected with astounding aesthetic skill. If she dirties them either by walking through the mud, or grinding herbs—she'll surely feel bad. None of the colors seem to suit her, anyway—

—then, something catches her eyes.

She narrows her eyes at the deep indigo-colored one.

"Huh—oooh, that one? I see, wait a minute, let me get it for you—"

"—no, you don't need to, Tien, stop…" Roze grabs Tien's sleeve as a storm of negativity pervades her mind—what if it doesn't fit? What if it's too small for me? —actually, that's not the reason for her worry;