SHC04_C4 There are People You Just Don't Say No To.

C4There Are People You Just Don’t Say No To

It had been exactly seven days since I first discovered the wild rose garden tucked deep in the back of the estate. As usual, I came for my morning walk, humming and singing through the winding paths—when something unfamiliar caught my eye.

Amid the tangle of deep red wild roses stood a single, majestic bloom.

A peony. Just one. The peony was grand and full.

Peonies and wild roses can bloom around the same time, so the pairing wasn’t unnatural. But I was certain—positively certain—there hadn’t been any sign of a peony bud here yesterday.

My curiosity piqued, and before I could think, my feet began to move on their own.

That solitary peony stood proud and serene, like a noble queen in her court. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I didn’t want to. I drifted forward, helpless as a moth to a flame.

Up close, its petals looked like they were woven from the finest silk—shimmering, lush, layered upon layer.

This wasn’t an ordinary flower.

Its scent enveloped me—sweet, intoxicating, almost dizzying. Peonies typically don’t have a strong fragrance, depending on the variety. But this one… this one smelled like peaches, then roses, then plums—all at once, and none of them. It was something else. Something otherworldly.

It was the kind of moment when the phrase "not of this world" really applies.

And before I knew it, the words slipped from my lips. A poem—memorized long ago, in another life.

“Only when all blossoms fall does it begin to bloom.

Its noble name declares it King of Flowers.

It boasts unmatched beauty across all creation.

And lays sole claim to the finest fragrance known to man.”

A Chinese poem from a great poet in my past life—lavishly praising the peony as the unrivaled monarch of all flowers.

Basically: Long live the peony! That was the shared feeling of both the old me and the new me, welling up and spilling out.

As I stood there, mesmerized, the peony began to sparkle—gently at first, then with dazzling brilliance.

Then, without warning, it transformed.

Where the flower once stood, now there was a woman.

Her long, flowing hair shimmered in the same pinkish-red hue as the peony, reaching gracefully to her ankles. Her eyes were cool and elegant, framed by a delicate beauty mark. She wore something like the ornate gowns seen in Chinese opera—layered, flowing, impossibly graceful.

I couldn’t speak.

Though… she did look a little familiar somehow?

“Hm,” she said at last, her voice rich and ringing. “To recite such a poem the moment you lay eyes on my peony—what talent for verse you possess, little one. I like you. I grant you permission to speak your name.”

“...Huh?” I croaked.

Too stunned to even react, I could only gape as the goddess-like woman chuckled, her laughter like wind chimes in the spring.

“What’s this? You can sing praises like a poet, yet your mind can’t catch up to a simple greeting. Still just a child, after all.”

“Uh… y-yes, I, um… I’m Agaha Kikunoi. Heir to the House of Kikunoi…”

For some reason, I knew I needed to kneel and bow my head. It wasn’t fear—it was reverence, a sense that I stood in the presence of something far above me.

She nodded, clearly pleased.

“A polite little one. I like that. Agaha, was it? I am Hyakka Koushu. Surely you’ve heard of me?”

I froze.

Nope. No clue.

She definitely looked familiar, but I couldn't remember her name.

I stood there stiff as a board while her perfectly shaped brow twitched upward.

This was bad. This was terrible.

I dropped to the ground again, prostrating myself in apology.

“I… I beg your forgiveness. Until recently, I was arrogant and foolish—ignorant of the teachings of those around me. It’s possible your name was spoken to me… and I simply ignored it. I truly regret my ignorance.”

“So, you did not know me.”

“I’m terribly sorry. I did not.”

“Such disrespect in one so small… Still,” she sighed, waving it off, “I’ll forgive you this once, in light of your honest apology. I am Hyakka Koushu—goddess of earth’s bounty, flowers, greenery, healing, and abundance.”

She smirked—a crescent-moon smile that made her stunning features even more dazzling.

Even the way she moved, the flick of her fan, the tilt of her head—it was all effortlessly elegant. The kind of grace no human could imitate.

“So,” she continued, fluttering her delicate fan, “is this estate yours?”

“Yes… Well, no. Technically, it belongs to the Kikunoi family.”

“Such a roundabout answer,” she mused. “Still, it is a garden you are clearly connected to. I have been dwelling among these roses for seven days now, and during that time, I’ve heard your songs.”

“Oh… I apologize for the noise, my lady.”

“Apologize? Don’t be absurd. I quite liked them. In all my long years, I’d never heard such songs before. You entertained me. And so, I’ve come in person to offer my thanks.”

She smiled gently.

Meanwhile, I turned absolutely pale.

The songs and poems I’d sung… they weren’t mine.

They came from my previous life. From him. Not me.

I wasn’t shameless enough to claim them as my own. And I certainly wasn’t reckless enough to lie to a goddess.

So I told her everything. About the strange, impossible memories that bloomed in me. About the songs and poems—how they weren’t mine. How I didn’t deserve her praise.

She raised one elegant eyebrow, now looking mischievously amused.

“What a silly child. You think I wouldn’t notice? It doesn’t matter who wrote the songs. You’re the one who offered them. I received them as tribute. And for every offering, there must be a proper exchange. If we don't, we disrupt the equilibrium. Therefore, I must grant you a reward.”

Before I could protest, she circled me—then suddenly jabbed me sharply in the back of the neck.

“OW! That hurt!”

“Don’t shout. It’s unbecoming.”

“Y-you just… stabbed me!”

“I activated the blocked flow in your mana network. The threads of magic in your body have now taken root and will begin to grow. You should be able to use basic magic now.”

“Wha—!?” “Th-thank you!”

She gave a satisfied hum.

“And another thing. While your appearance may be lacking, your voice is pleasing. Your singing… well, it’s not excellent, but it’s not unbearable either. You will come here tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. Sing for me daily, little bard. Keep me entertained.”

“U-um, but—”

“I don’t care if the songs come from another world. If I enjoy them, then they are worthy. As long as you respect the origins and treat them with reverence, what does it matter?”

She fixed me with a look that brooked no argument.

“I’ve spoken. You will come. Every day. That is your divine command. Obey it. Answer me!”

“Y-yes, ma’am!!”

Let me be clear: You do not argue with someone like her. Ever. Never.

Apparently satisfied with my enthusiastic obedience, she gave one final flick of her fan—and vanished into thin air like a puff of perfume.

...I cannot believe this is my life now.

EUNEUN: Thanks for reading~~

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