The Uninvited Guest…
The evening sky began to change colour—from orange to soft lilac—covering the small village of Rose Valley in a peace that felt deceiving. Yet inside her home, Marry El Rose felt the air grow heavier. Not from danger, but from the past… suddenly arriving without warning.
Clara, the detective of conscience whom she had once saved ten years ago, now sat politely in the dining room.
She crossed her legs on the wooden chair before a cup of steaming rose tea. Freshly baked cookies rested on a white porcelain plate. The sweet scent of sugar and butter blended warmly in the air.
Clara paused for a moment, quietly taking in the sight of the homemade treats before her. Marry gestured gently for her to try.
"Please, have some. This is all I can offer," she said softly.
"This is more than enough." Clara smiled faintly. She took one cookie and bit into it.
"Hmm… It's delicious," she praised.
"I'm glad you like it. Caelan and I baked them together," Marry replied.
Clara ate slowly and calmly, occasionally sipping her rose tea. Marry simply watched her in silence. The quiet between them was thick—broken only by the crisp sound of cookie crumbs and the soft clinking of glass cups.
After a moment, Clara dabbed her lips with a white napkin, then looked across the table at Marry, who sat with graceful composure.
"You… live here with your daughter?" Clara finally asked, breaking the silence.
Marry nodded slowly. "For seven years now," she answered simply.
Her voice was flat, yet not fearful. Only weary—a fragile kind of peace.
Clara turned her gaze around the modest but well-kept home. Wooden walls adorned with hand-drawn pictures of a child. A vase of lilies in full bloom stood in the corner. A hand-knitted bunny doll leaned against a rocking chair.
This was not the home of a tyrant executioner. It was the home of a mother who loved her little girl.
Yet Clara's instincts still stirred. She hadn't come merely as a guest, but as someone carrying old wounds… and unanswered questions.
"Why did you stop? Why did you… stop delivering justice like before?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with nostalgia.
Marry fell silent. She leaned back in her chair and turned toward the window.
"Because I finally realised—not all justice must be paid with blood."
—
Little Caelan — The Bridge Between Past and Present…
From the living room, Caelan—who had been drawing roses on her sketch paper—came running, holding up her picture covered in red and pink scribbles resembling flowers.
She handed it to her mother.
"Mom, this is for you!" she said innocently.
Marry smiled gently and patted her daughter's head.
"Thank you, honey."
She took the drawing and looked at it with her soft blue eyes.
"Is this… a rose?" she asked kindly.
Caelan nodded eagerly, bouncing lightly on her feet.
"Yes, Mom! Caelan loves playing in the rose garden!"
Marry chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand.
"You really are Mama's daughter," she said warmly.
Clara watched the two of them, her eyes glimmering with emotion.
"This child… she's so pure", she thought.
Then Clara activated a special ability she rarely used—[Eye of Judgment]. At once, her green eyes glowed faintly.
She looked at little Caelan… and what she saw stunned her. A white light—pure and radiant—the same kind of soul she once saw in Marry ten years ago. But this one was even brighter.
"This child… can't be ordinary. Impossible." Clara covered her mouth in shock.
Her soul is too pure, too bright as if she's the very embodiment of hope for her mother. For a long moment, Clara stood frozen, gazing at the child's untainted light.
She knew... a soul this pure could only come from a world nurtured by unconditional love. This girl must have grown up in true, boundless affection.
"Marry… you haven't changed at all," she thought. "Your soul is even cleaner than before. And now you're raising a daughter with a soul just as pure."
—
Secret Investigation…
As dinner time approached, Marry and Caelan ate together with Clara. Afterwards, they moved to the living room.
Clara sat on the sofa, while Marry sat gracefully across from her, gently stroking little Caelan's head as the child lay in her lap.
Caelan smiled sweetly, enjoying every touch from her mother's hand. Occasionally, she yawned, rubbing her sleepy eyes.
Clara watched them quietly, her gaze soft—like that of an old friend reunited after years apart. After a brief silence, she finally spoke.
"I went around the village earlier… I talked to the villagers. But they all kept praising your name," she said sincerely.
Marry didn't answer right away. She kept brushing her daughter's hair, then spoke softly.
"I only help out from time to time." She paused for a moment, recalling the warm smiles of the villagers who had welcomed her.
"When I first came to this village… the people helped me. What I do isn't worth being praised for." She smiled faintly—a smile shadowed by memories of the past.
"I see…" Clara sighed. "So you've gone through a lot during these past seven years."
"Then what have you been doing here, all this time?" Clara asked gently.
"I just want to live peacefully with my little girl." Marry's blue eyes glistened as she looked at her daughter sleeping in her lap.
"I want her to grow up healthy… and happy." Marry paused for a moment, gazing at Clara with tenderness—yet a fragile kind of tenderness.
"Every day, after brewing potions, tending the garden, and cleaning the house… I just want to spend more time with her."
"Sometimes I take her for walks around the village, visit the market, or go on picnics under the trees."
"You know, Miss Clara… Caelan is such a kind and sweet child. She always listens to me and brings joy into my life."
"I'm grateful to have a daughter as sweet as her." Marry kissed her daughter's forehead. "I want her to smile every single day."
Marry's confession stirred Clara's conscience. She could no longer see the shadow of the cold, ruthless executioner from the past. In front of her now sat only a loving mother.
"Caelan truly is a good child, Marry. I still remember how she greeted me so cheerfully at the market a few days ago… before you awakened my memories."
"You're lucky to have a daughter like her." Clara sighed softly. "And you know, Marry... you've become a good mother," she said sincerely.
But Marry shook her head slowly.
"No, Clara. I'm not yet a good mother. Sometimes… I don't even want her to know the other side of me."
"I just want her to grow up as a normal girl." She sighed quietly. "Even so… I still want to give her the best I can."
Clara fell silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on the woman before her.
"Marry… you're still as gentle as before. The world fears the shadow of your bloodstained name," she thought.
"But I still remember how you cared for the orphaned children in the ruins of that old church."
"You haven't changed at all… still kind to the oppressed. And now, that same love—you've given it to your daughter."
Clara stood up and asked:
"Marry… excuse me, could I borrow your bathroom?"
Marry smiled softly.
"Of course. It's behind the kitchen."
"Thank you… I'll be back soon."
Clara left the living room, heading toward the back. But as she walked, she quietly observed every inch of the house. She found not a single trace of blood on the walls. The home was too clean, too tidy, too warm, too peaceful.
She stopped before the bathroom door and sighed.
"Marry truly wants a peaceful life. Not a single stain of blood remains. She really has given up everything… for her daughter," she murmured inwardly.
—
A Few Moments Later…
Clara returned to the living room and chatted lightly with Marry. But as the night deepened, she eventually stood.
"I… won't ask anything more—for tonight, at least."
Marry rose as well, carrying Caelan in her arms, and escorted Clara to the front door.
Clara opened the door. The night breeze greeted her, carrying with it the gentle fragrance of roses.
Marry stood behind her, silent for a while, then whispered,
"Tomorrow… will you return as a detective?"
Clara lowered her head.
"I don't know… maybe tomorrow, I'll just return as Clara."
They stood in silence for a moment—until Caelan stirred in her mother's arms, rubbing her eyes.
"Mom, Caelan's sleepy. Caelan wants to sleep with Mommy."
Marry smiled and stroked her daughter's hair.
"Just a moment, honey. Mama's seeing her friend off."
Then she turned to Clara.
"See you tomorrow, Miss Clara," she said softly.
Clara looked back and smiled faintly.
"See you tomorrow, Marry. I'm glad… I got to see you again."
Clara slowly closed the door and walked away from the wooden house. She stopped for a moment in the rose field outside. The moonlight illuminated her figure gently—casting the silhouette of a lone detective among the roses.
She looked up at the night sky. Throughout her life as a detective, she had met countless people, judged countless criminals, imprisoned many, and saved many victims.
Yet none of them had ever truly moved her soul. She had seen countless human hearts—but never one as pure and radiant as theirs.
The criminals' souls were dark, tainted by corruption. Even the victims still bore traces of black stains in their hearts.
That was why Clara rarely used her unique skill, [Eye of Judgment]—she didn't want to lose faith in humanity.
But today, she had met two beings whose souls shone pure and bright. Two noble spirits that shook her conscience:
The first was an executioner she once knew ten years ago, Marry El Rose.
The world called her a Disaster Princess, Blood Rose Princess.
But Clara knew… she was simply a gentle mother, seeking justice for victims silenced by tyranny.
And now, Clara had witnessed that same noble light reborn in Marry's daughter, Caelan El Rose, whose soul was pure and brilliant white, perhaps… more than just light itself.
Clara closed her eyes, recalling Marry's soft smile as she caressed little Caelan. Then she exhaled softly.
"Should I really drag them back into the darkness… just because of the past?" She shook her head. "No. Not tonight."
Clara walked away from Marry's home. That night, her footsteps were not those of a victor or an enforcer of law, but of a woman, quietly questioning her own conscience.
She smiled faintly at the night sky.
"What meaning does justice hold… if it only destroys a life already redeemed by blood?"
The night breeze blew, rustling her purple hair, and carried her whisper into the quiet sky of Rose Valley.