Trapped in the Crimson Peony Mansion - Chapter 00

A tide of purplish-red blooms filled her vision.

The grand mansion stood tall, its grey walls steeped in centuries of history, flanked by the famous peony garden that no citizen of the kingdom could mistake. In the midst of this lush scene stood a slender woman. Her hands were full of layered peony blossoms, exuding a fragrance rich and deep as Schwarzttraube wine. Immersed in this red sea, every breath pulled her into a state of euphoria. Even the gentle spring breeze carried the thick, heady scent.

These peonies, immense and striking, were almost unnaturally beautiful.

Germina’s thin lips parted as she reached out, separating the delicate layers of petals to reveal the flower’s center, brimming with golden stamens. As she gazed into the core, her breathing quickened. They were just pistils and stamens dusted with pollen, yet their raw presence felt almost unsettling. She pulled her hand away, averting her gaze when the sensation threatened to suffocate her.

Today, the Eisenach Ducal estate was a hive of activity, preparing for the return of the duke, Karlheinz Ruden von Eisenach, after six long years. Amid the bustling staff and the meticulous arrangements, Germina was the only one who had the luxury to wander the blooming peony garden at sunset.

All the work was in the hands of the servants, overseen by Karl’s mother, the Grand Duchess. For Germina, there were no duties.

Sixteen years had passed since she had lost everything and arrived at the Crimson Peony Manor.

The late duke had been kind, and the Grand Duchess treated her generously, raising her with the affection and privileges of an adopted daughter. Even with Karl, who took on the title after his father, their relationship was more “sister and brother” than formal.

Yet, despite these sixteen years, Germina knew she was never truly part of Eisenach. No matter that she found refuge here or that she occasionally played the role of the lady of the house, she understood her place all too well.

She was, and always would be, the ward of the house, Germina Elise Goethe—the noble daughter of a fallen count’s family under the protection of Eisenach.

Whether she was the only child in the mansion or after the young heir Karl arrived at the age of eight, her status was unchanged. She remained the ward, not a true Eisenach.

“Sister.”

The familiar, yet slightly foreign voice pulled her from her reverie.

“My sister.”

The sound was low, smooth, like the scent of the peonies.
Germina lifted her head to find a figure standing at a distance. The tall peony shrubs, which would have reached two-thirds of her height, seemed small next to him.

The rich magenta petals and the silk-like dark green leaves still rustled in the breeze, but the sound faded as if carried away from her ears. All her senses were captured by the striking man before her.

Framed by the setting sun, his silhouette was like a painting. Tall and commanding, with broad, straight shoulders that blocked out the light, he embodied the image of a hero. His waist, graceful despite the powerful build, was something to admire. Even the shadow cast by him over the peony trees was mesmerizing.

Germina took in a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and suddenly remembered that he had addressed her as “sister.”

“Karl?”

Her eyes widened with surprise. The sun disappeared beyond the horizon, and in the dimming world, his features came into sharper focus.

His hair, short and immaculately groomed, shone silver under the twilight like moonlight. His skin, pale and flawless like porcelain, only accentuated the deep magenta of his eyes, the same color as the peonies around them. He looked different from the last time she had seen him, but there was no mistaking Karl, the beautiful angel-like figure she had known.

The duke of Eisenach, her current guardian, and the boy she had once thought of as a younger brother had grown into a man she now had to tilt her head back to see.

‘Not an angel anymore, but perhaps an archangel?’

As Germina’s lips curled into a faint smile at the thought, Karl moved. Within moments, he was standing before her.

“That smile…,” he murmured.

He bent down, bringing their faces close enough that their noses almost touched.

“Is it for me?”

Germina stared at him, transfixed. The radiant smile on his handsome face was familiar, reminiscent of the boy who always smiled like a blooming flower, reserved just for her.

“It’s a relief to see that some things haven’t changed, despite how much you’ve grown,” she said softly.

Karl reached out and took her right hand, his long, elegant fingers caressing the back of her hand like he was handling a fragile flower.

“But why have you become so small, sister?”

“I haven’t gotten smaller. You’ve just grown,” she said with a light laugh.

Karl’s eyes held hers as he began to trace her fingers one by one, sending an inexplicable shiver through her. The touch of his fingers against her skin made her heart skip in an unidentifiable blend of nervousness and anticipation.

“If you’re this delicate…,” he whispered, bringing her hand to his lips.

“It won’t be easy, my sister.”

His soft, warm lips pressed against the back of her hand, sending a stunning rush of sensation through her.

Before she knew it, Karl had shifted, pressing his lips to her fingers. Realizing what was happening, Germina shook her head lightly, trying to dispel the strange spell.

“You really haven’t changed, still saying the oddest things,” she said, a smile breaking the tension.

Karl had always said peculiar, contextless things, even as a child. He was serious in his way, though Germina rarely understood his intent. She had grown used to brushing off his words with a laugh.

Even now, at twenty, Karl still retained that curious trait. What had started as a cautious reunion melted into familiarity, and Germina felt the return of the young angel who had finally come home.

“I heard you wouldn’t arrive until late tonight. The whole household is preparing for that,” she said teasingly.

“I couldn’t wait any longer, so I hurried back.”

“Did you miss the estate that much? You never once visited in all these years,” Germina said, playfully raising an eyebrow.
Karl had completed the royal academy in just four years and served as an officer in the royal army for two, fulfilling his noble duty. But for those six years, he hadn’t stepped foot in the manor, sparking concern about the young duke’s lack of attention to his territory.

“I feared that if I came home, I wouldn’t be able to leave again,” he said, releasing her hand and opening his arms to draw her into a firm embrace.

“I missed not the house, but you, my sister.”

His strong arms wrapped gently around her small frame.

“My sister, my beloved sister.”

Against her will, Germina felt her head rest against his chest, and his voice, deep and sweet, resonated through her. The solid muscles beneath the crisp white shirt stirred an unfamiliar impulse within her. A strange desire to let herself go and lean into him. With each breath, she thought she could catch a trace of the peony fragrance coming from him.

They had hugged like this countless times when Karl was a boy. But after so many years, now that he was grown, the embrace carried an unfamiliar weight that made it awkward.

‘Why am I embarrassed by something so simple?’

Germina chastised herself. Then, a sense of déjà vu washed over her.

This moment—hadn’t she lived it before?

‘Yes, it was the day I first met Karl.’

A sudden arrival, a garden in full bloom, the spring breeze rustling through the flowers, and the boy who, as beautiful as a heavenly being, ran to her and clung to her waist, saying, “Sister, my sister,” in that sweet, youthful voice.

The roles had reversed now, yet the memory mirrored the present almost perfectly.

But there was one stark difference. Today, she welcomed Karl’s return. Twelve years ago, she had been wary of him. The boy who buried his face in her chest and offered boundless affection had unsettled her.

“How can you act like this when we’ve just met?”

The discomfort and fear had led her to keep her distance from the sudden new brother. Though he called her “sister” and clung to her, he couldn’t break through the walls she’d built.

‘I said so many harsh things back then.’

It was a shameful memory. The exact reasons for her unease had faded over time.

Surely, she hadn’t disliked him merely for treating her like a sister out of the blue. Was she afraid he would take her place? There must have been more to it…

“Germina!”

The sharp voice snapped her back to the present.

A dignified woman with silver hair pinned with a sapphire brooch, the very image of elegance, stood at the edge of the garden. The former Grand Duchess and now the house’s matriarch, Karl’s mother, Celine Mode Eisenach, was approaching with uncharacteristic haste. Her gaze on Germina and Karl was sharp.
“Karl, you should have sent word as soon as you arrived. Do you know how many people are still at their posts waiting for you?”
Karl slowly released Germina from his embrace. He made sure she was steady before responding in a languid tone.

“I’m home, Mother.”

“Ah, you always…”

A flicker of relief crossed Celine’s otherwise stern expression. What parent wouldn’t be glad to see their only son return safely?

Her gaze shifted to Germina, standing too close for comfort by her estimation. But she made no comment on the matter.

“Germina.”

“Yes, Grand Duchess.”

“How many times have I told you not to go out alone at night? It’s dangerous.”

Though the garden was walled and secure, Germina accepted the unwarranted admonition with a polite nod.

“I apologize. I didn’t want to disturb everyone’s work, so I came out here. I’m sorry to have caused you concern.”

“Come inside now.”

Without looking back, Celine turned and walked away, her posture impeccable.

“Let’s go, sister.”

Germina’s hand rested in Karl’s open palm.

“Welcome back, Karl,” she said, stealing a glance at his peony-colored eyes, offering her delayed greeting.

Karl responded with a warm smile, pressing his lips once more to her hand.

Together, they walked through the sea of peonies.

Karl’s stride perfectly matched Germina’s slow, limping steps. The handsome duke held her steady and ensured her path was clear, his escort as effortless as if he had never been gone.

A breeze carrying the dense scent of peonies wrapped around her like an embrace.