Chapter 13
Dubois' Hidden Past
Master Dubois, seeing Elara’s determination, finally reveals his own connection to the scent's history, admitting his fear of its power and the secrets he’s kept.
The air in Master Dubois' private study was thick with the scent of aged paper and polished wood, a comforting aroma that usually soothed Elara's restless spirit. But tonight, a different kind of weight pressed down on her, heavy with unspoken words and a shared unease. Master Dubois sat opposite her, his usually jovial face etched with a weariness that went deeper than a long day. The little crimson-blossomed flacon, still radiating its peculiar, memory-stirring aura, rested on the mahogany desk between them, a silent testament to the mystery that had consumed Elara’s waking hours.
"You have a remarkable spirit, Elara," Master Dubois began, his voice a low rumble, like distant thunder. He ran a hand over his thinning hair, his gaze fixed on the flacon. "A spirit that reminds me of… of someone I once knew."
Elara leaned forward, her heart thrumming a nervous rhythm against her ribs. She had pressed him, gently but persistently, about the scent, about its origins, about the shadows she sensed clinging to its history. And he, the kind man who had taught her the delicate art of perfumery, who had always been her steadfast guide, had finally relented.
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