The Vanishing Teacher and the Countess’s Secret

The afternoon sun shone brightly.

A gentle breeze swept through the courtyard, stirring ripples of soft purple among the iris bushes, which then fell onto the clear water and spread into concentric circles.

Verilia Aelott gently placed the porcelain cup back onto its saucer. She slowly stirred with a small spoon, watching a wisp of milky white gradually dissolve into the dark red tea until it vanished completely.

A maid quietly approached from behind her. She gently reached out, plucking an iris petal from Verilia’s peach-pink hair.

“Forgive my intrusion, Miss.”

“Thank you, Melia,” Verilia said, turning to smile at the maid.

“The weather has grown a little cooler recently, Miss.” Melia bowed, her eyelids half-closed, as she asked, “Would you consider wearing an extra petticoat under your dress starting tomorrow?”

“Oh? Won’t that be too warm?” Verilia pouted playfully. “I think this feels just right.”

Lovesa’s winters were never particularly harsh, and the sun in the Ael Territory remained perpetually warm and gentle. As the Count’s eldest daughter, Verilia had witnessed snow only once since her birth.

The Ambir River flowed ceaselessly through this bountiful land blessed by the Goddess, where every inch of soil was as precious as gold. Since ancient tribal times, the Aelott family had governed this riverine plain, carpeted with golden wheat and emerald pastures. Their lineage predated the Empire itself, and the seven secular Elector Counts would forever reserve a seat for the master of the Ael Territory.

Verilia felt immense pride in this legacy.

“Provided, of course, that you ensure sufficient sleep, Miss,” Melia murmured, raising her gaze. “Going without sleep for several nights, coupled with a lack of warmth, makes it very easy to catch a cold.”

Verilia’s smile faltered for a moment. She cautiously touched the faint bags under her eyes, a hint of worry clouding her delicate, willow-like brows. “Is it very noticeable? Does it look bad?”

“Not at all, your beauty remains undiminished.” Melia straightened, offering the pale purple petal in her hand to Verilia. “As your personal maid, I can tell at a glance whether you’ve been sleeping well.”

“Nothing truly escapes you,” Verilia said, taking the petal and letting her peach-pink gaze fall upon it.

“Lady Aisara’s sudden disappearance has worried everyone deeply. Mr. Bichell is still tirelessly searching for her, but you, Miss, should prioritize your own well-being.” Melia respectfully stepped back half a pace, creating a comfortable distance.

“The discord between my two elder brothers grows increasingly difficult to mend, the imperial election draws near, and various political factions within Lovesa are locked in overt and covert struggles.” Verilia sighed softly, her voice barely a whisper. “Yet, at such a crucial juncture, Teacher Aisara simply vanishes without a trace…”

She gently rose, lifting the intricate gown that cascaded to the floor, its layers of lace and ruffles drifting like clouds. “Is this her way of telling me I must face this alone? What a challenging test this is, Teacher Aisara.”

“Perhaps Lady Aisara simply had urgent matters to attend to and no time to inform you,” Melia offered, trying her best to console her.

Two young maids hurried from the shadows beneath the eaves into the courtyard, raising the long train of Verilia’s gown from behind her. The Count’s eldest daughter yawned with elegant grace. “That doesn’t quite sound like Teacher’s style… Never mind. I’ll return to my room for a nap; please wake me before dinner.”

“Yes, Miss,” Melia replied, stepping aside and bowing her head.

Verilia swept past her, the soft tapping of her low-heeled leather shoes echoing on the marble tiles as her pale gown swayed gracefully.

****

The curtains were tightly drawn, casting the lavishly decorated room into a dim light.

Verilia untied her hair, removing the diamond and crystal ornaments, allowing her soft, peach-colored hair to cascade over her snow-white shoulders. The strapless gown exposed her delicate collarbones and creamy, smooth skin. She could see that her reflection in the mirror was somewhat more haggard than before.

A “Peach Bud of Lovesa” should always remain vibrant and youthful. Verilia knew her image influenced public perception of her family and the Ael Territory, so she had to be constantly vigilant.

‘But without Teacher…’

She gazed at the oil painting framed in pure silver and glass beside her dressing mirror. It depicted a pink-haired girl and a purple-haired woman standing side-by-side in a courtyard brimming with irises.

Verilia’s breathing became quick and heavy.

‘Teacher.’
‘Teacher Aisara.’

She repeated the name and title silently, her slender fingers gently caressing the painting through the glass, her fingertip tracing the edge of the purple-haired woman’s cheek.

Verilia still remembered that misty morning when she stumbled on the gravel path in the garden and was helped up by this young woman named Aisara. She would never forget that gentle, intelligent smile.

Those who sought to approach the Elector Count’s eldest daughter all had ulterior motives; young Verilia had only ever seen ugly desires and avarice in their eyes. But Aisara was different. She was so pure.

Earl Geoffrey, the Elector Count of the Ael Territory, had hired over a dozen renowned imperial scholars to tutor his eldest daughter, Verilia. Yet, Verilia had almost stubbornly chosen Aisara, who was listed in the most inconspicuous corner.

Having never witnessed such a strong-willed attitude from his daughter, Geoffrey could only accede to Verilia’s request. Aisara was the most learned woman Verilia had ever met. She taught Verilia not only mathematics and politics but also the wisdom of navigating life and society.

Verilia revered and respected Aisara. And yet, it was more than just that.

“Teacher Aisara… I like you so much…”

Whispering the name of the one she yearned for in a soft, delicate voice, while discreetly performing an unspeakable act concealed by her elaborate gown, the noble daughter revealed her true self in her private chambers.

“Why did you suddenly disappear without a word… I hadn’t had the chance yet…”

Her voice grew increasingly soft and sweet. Just a little more.

Just as Verilia was about to reach the peak, the ring on her left index finger, which rested on the oil painting, suddenly erupted with a dazzling purplish-red light, instantly engulfing her.