Chapter Text
Orpheus was in the manor's garden.
He requested to be able to grow different flowers, at any season. That wasn't a choice made for his love of flowers.
The novelist was holding in his hand a red Azalea. What a beautiful flower. Not as beautiful as his own flower.
So, that was his first pick. A strong start.
He charged one of the employees to carry the one he picked among them. The deepest red.
