Actually, the moment she saw that Rainbow Rose, she already understood.
It was originally a white rose, dyed into an even, rainbow color by splitting the stem and placing each end in bottles of different colored solutions, using the principle of capillary action—a method only she knew, and one she had shown to only a single person—Ella.
With trembling hands, she picked up the envelope and unfolded it. The letter was written in Sister Maria’s neat handwriting.
In the letter, the nun wrote that since receiving Tulia’s first letter, she had often thought of her.
Over the years, Maria had sent many letters to the Noerstein Family estate—some from herself, some relaying news about Ella.
At Maria’s recommendation, Ella had gone to Stirmiel, worked diligently, and soon, during the local church’s change of leadership, had risen to the rank of Bishop. Later, it seemed she even joined the core of The Church. What happened after that, Maria didn’t know.
It was just that, from then on, all subsequent letters disappeared like stones thrown into the sea—never a single reply.
So, before she passed away, Maria left behind this letter.
The handwriting blurred before her eyes.
Drip, drip… Warm tears uncontrollably fell onto the paper, blooming into small black splotches.
Learning that Ella was safe and well, the heavy stone that had weighed on her heart for years finally lifted; long-held guilt and yearning burst free as an unstoppable flood of tears.
Tulia could find no words, only wept silently, not even a sob escaping.
After a long while, Tulia’s tears gradually ceased. Sophia gently helped her up, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“Let’s go.”
“Go where?” Tulia’s mind was a blank, and she asked without thinking.
“Of course, to my estate.” Sophia’s tone held a hint of feigned naturalness. “Didn’t you see? All the letters were sent there in the end.” She paused, carefully observing Tulia’s reaction, then asked with deliberate puzzlement, “Don’t you want to know what she wrote to you?”
She saw the undisguised hope in Tulia’s eyes, and her lips curled in a knowing smile.
“Don’t worry,” Sophia’s voice softened, carrying a promise, “I won’t lock you up again. I told you—I’ll make it up to you.”
With elegance, she offered her arm, just like a true gentleman, leaving her arm for Tulia.
“My lady, please—”
Just as before, she used her unique way to pull Tulia from her heavy thoughts.
As they left, the little nun waved goodbye to the two of them, then, turning quickly, couldn’t wait to pull out the two Coins, spinning them gleefully between her fingers.
“Yes! What a lucky windfall!”
She had endured in this dilapidated Church for so long, seeing one after another off. Now that her task was done, she could finally return to The Church.
The little nun stretched with satisfaction, feeling light all over.
Of course, the letter and Rainbow Rose were not truly from Maria.
Sister Maria, who had spent her life doing good, had helped countless paupers—why would she dwell on matters from decades ago?
The portrait the little nun saw was issued by Secret Edict, directly from The Church.
Her task was to stay hidden here and deliver those two items to the person in the painting.
Now that her mission was complete, she could be promoted to Bishop upon returning.
“I should head back too…”
Before she finished speaking, her figure had already quietly disappeared from the church’s door, as if she’d never been there at all.
Tulia followed Sophia back to that estate deeply etched in her memory.
As soon as the coachman halted, she saw an elderly woman, straight-backed and dressed in a simple maid’s uniform, waiting silently before the gilded gates.
“You look as young as ever, Miss Tulia.” The old woman dipped in a slight curtsey, her voice warm and steady, tempered by the years.
“You are…Selina?”
Tulia gazed at the face lined with age yet brimming with vigor, her tone unconsciously tinged with wistful emotion.
Time had passed, even the capable, elegant head maid from her memories now had hair white with age.
She looked around and found the estate greatly changed from when she left.
Gone was the bustling scene of countless servants and thriving industries. Only a few people remained, tending to the most basic daily upkeep.
The vineyards, the endless cotton and grain fields that once symbolized wealth and power, had vanished without a trace.
In their place, beside the mansion, was a small, carefully tended vegetable garden.
“I usually work here a while when I have nothing else to do,” Sophia explained quietly, following her gaze. Her tone was calm, as if discussing something trivial.
She told Tulia about her own changes over the years, her voice betraying neither regret nor sorrow.
The only thing unchanged were the occasional servants and local villagers passing by. Whenever they saw Sophia, their eyes would still naturally reveal sincere respect and greet this “Old City Lord” with heartfelt warmth.
That deep affection, untouched by time, never faded.
“So why can’t you even set out foot-washing water properly?”
Tulia tilted her head, teasingly, a mischievous glint in her eyes like a cat that’s successfully stepped on its opponent’s tail, eager to see Sophia’s reaction.
Sophia was caught off guard by her words and began coughing violently. “Ahem! Ahem, ahem…” Her gaze flickered, forcing composure as she defended herself, “I-I never practiced that, it’s normal… Let’s go!”
Before the words were even out, she’d already turned away in embarrassment, striding forward to hide her rare loss of composure.
Seeing this, Tulia quickly raised a hand to cover her mouth, but couldn’t help letting out a clear peal of laughter, her shoulders trembling—she made no attempt to hide her schadenfreude.
With hands behind her back and a nimble lean forward, she darted ahead in a few quick steps to catch up.
In the pale morning light, that pure white figure hopped along behind the red-haired woman.
Her steps were light, her posture lively like a young girl—like a beam of moonlight from a sweet daydream, suddenly shining into the real corridors of life.
Sophia didn’t take Tulia to fetch the letters right away, but instead took her hand and led her toward the estate’s quiet cemetery.
The cemetery was shrouded in solemn stillness—here lay the Noerstein Family’s eternal rest.
Three newest tombstones stood in a row, their stone surfaces glinting coldly beneath the dappled shadows. The inscriptions were sharp and clear:
Karl Von Nolstein
“A loyal guardian, a loving father, rests here.”
Elvira Von Nolstein
“The embodiment of gentleness and wisdom, sleeps forever in love.”
And—Lilian Von Nolstein
“A flower in first bloom, at peace forever in the morning light.”
Tulia stood quietly at the side, not understanding Sophia’s intention, merely watching her actions in silence.
Sophia stopped with dignity before her parents’ graves, performing an old, formal ritual of respect—every movement suffused with deep piety and remembrance.
Then, she moved slowly to Lilian’s tombstone, fingertips softly brushing the cold engraving.
As if she could reach through the stone to touch the traces of memory, searching through flowing time for some hazy silhouette.
A subtle, indescribable feeling spread through Tulia’s heart—after all, part of Lilian’s memories and soul had already merged with her own.
Though usually barely noticeable, at this moment, sharing those memories, gazing at the tombstone felt almost as if she saw her own name carved in stone.
After a moment’s hesitation, Tulia stepped forward.
She imitated Sophia’s previous gestures, clumsy but sincere, and completed a ritual of offering, then gently closed her eyes, as if holding a silent conversation with some unseen presence.
No more words passed between them; only the occasional birdsong or the constant, whispering wind through the grass broke the stillness.
It was in this shared silence that Tulia suddenly understood why Sophia had brought her here first.
A clear stance, a solemn declaration—Sophia had laid Lilian to rest, once and for all, in her memory.
Lilian’s story ended here, returned to the earth.
And Tulia was simply Tulia.
In Sophia’s heart, she was not anyone’s shadow, but a unique, irreplaceable existence.