January 21, 2021: Vorfreude

There's a rule strictly imposed among the employees working under Eddinu Corporation. The presence of executive officers, who're conducting official visitations on site, should be duly ignored unless an individual had direct business with them.

It was more of an unwritten rule that an employee could adapt throughout the duration of their stay in the company. Withal, it was not as if the workers knew all of the countenances of their bosses. Their references were limited to actual introductions and what was shown in the media.

Hence, in general, workers simply treated everyone entering their establishment as clients, save for the instances when they were tasked to assist the officials.

In the case of Konrad Brecheisen, he had eluded the eyes of the public by prohibiting any media coverage for himself. His secretaries constantly surveilled articles, or any mediums for that matter, to look for anyone trying to reveal information about him beyond his name and age.

These articles would then be revoked from being published. There were other executive officers that practiced the same concept. However, the CEO's team was under immense pressure to not let anything through.

The people who should be privy of Konrad's identity solely consisted of his immediate relatives, a few long time acquaintances, and those who worked closely beside him.

In the middle of the corridor, the piercing gazes that Konrad was getting from the crowd were not due to his status in any way, but because of how beguiling he was.

His exquisite appearance flabbergasted men and women alike.

As usual, the man paid no attention to the prattling of those who were fawning over him. If they did not even have the guts to come up to him, he wouldn't make an effort to acknowledge their presence. Nevertheless, simply talking to him, unprompted, didn't really guarantee anyone a proper response.

Konrad looked at the room where Doctor Birkenfeld came out from.  It was peculiar of his strong-willed Godmother to be in a stupor amidst her duty.

Perhaps it was because of pure curiosity, rather than concern for the woman, that he traversed the doctor's trail back to room 1028, halting at its doorstep. The door was slightly ajar, so the only thing he could make out was the silhouette of a person.

'Basing on the build, I can safely say that it is a man.' He thought to himself.

He did not want any unnecessary involvement in the matter. Thereupon, he settled that his last action would be to look at the nameplate on the left side of the door frame. Immediately upon reading the name, his eyes that appeared jaded further narrowed.

"Syn... Rosenfeldt?"

When he said her name out loud, his heart suddenly ached. He forgot to breathe somehow. The sensation was similar to when one's heart was within the tightening grip of a fiery heat, slowly trapping every breath taken into its immaculate embrace.

It was unpleasant, to say the least, in the perspective of Konrad who treated the feeling as novel. It was as if he, who had an empire dancing on his palms, was yearning for something unfathomable.

Astonished? Desirous? Pleased?

The man did not know what to feel about what he just saw. Even though he denied it on the surface, at the back of his mind, he was hoping to encounter the lady by any chance. And now that he had the opportunity to make it happen, he became at a loss on what to do.

Still, more than the confusion, the one that dominated him was complacence. That was why, obviously enough, the rational part of Konrad quickly took over his conscience, compelling him to keep the pledge he uttered to Tristan O' Connor.

Deciding to leave promptly, Konrad turned to his back. Though before he was able to take a stride forward, a nurse carrying a red bag, walking in a hurry towards where he was standing, made him take a sidestep. His line of sight unconsciously followed the nurse. And absentmindedly, he traced the nurse's path back to the room. 

As soon as the door was fully opened, Konrad caught a glimpse of the woman nestled languidly on the farthest bed from the door.

Her skin was as pale as when he first witnessed its lucent glamour. He wondered how it would feel under his delicate caress.

And it came to him, the intense thirst to watch her eyes turn docile as he rammed into her deeply. The image of her squirming and moaning his name whilst whimpering, continuously ravished by the pleasure, would intoxicate him more than a shot of a strong whiskey.

Regardless of wanting to observe the woman a little longer, he was cut off by the door closing shut. This one-sided meeting happened in a matter of a few seconds that left more to be desired. The moment was comparable to getting a taste of the last spoonful to exist of the Almas Caviar.

Bemused though he might be, Konrad readily snapped out of his brooding to address the fact that he did see Syn Rosenfeldt that early in his game with Tristan. An ominous glint had shown itself on his eyes when an idea registered in his head.

'There is still no certainty that Miss Rosenfeldt will be discharged two days from now. Besides, rather than a commercial wine, a well-aged Cabernet will suit my tongue better.'

His analogy spoke volumes of either of the two: Syn's value as a woman or his growing hunger. Whether it was something to celebrate was still questionable. A newly built resolve to have his own interpretation of fun throughout the game could be seen on his visage, but that expression only surfaced for a fracture of a second.

'I will preemptively take this loss.'

Once he arrived at a satisfactory conclusion, Konrad returned to his straitlaced and vigilant self. He noticed his bodyguard, Brock Matthews, approaching him. The guard just finished his chore of making sure that this time, their convoy would be parked where they could easily access them.

"Mr. Brecheisen, the car is on standby. Have you finished your business here?" Brock uttered as he stopped a few inches away from Konrad. 

"No, I will meet with the director during the monthly assembly instead. Let us leave."

"Noted, Mr. Brecheisen. Then I will inform your head secretary."

Konrad's original motive of wandering around the main building was to attend a rendezvous with the hospital director. Howbeit, he had been effectively sidetracked by his own perpetrated coincidence.

Matthews stepped aside to let his boss walk ahead of him. With the guard closely trailing Konrad, the short stroll to the driveway, the same path they coursed the day Konrad and Syn met for the second time, ended shortly without a racket.

Only three of his guards welcomed his arrival, since the rest were already seated inside their assigned vehicles.  Rohan Amirov, Ivanovich Matthews, and Zenigata Izanagi lined up neatly on one side, Argus-eyed to the happenings around them.

Although reasonable, it was too much for their own good. Concomitant to their stubbornness of not letting a needle prick their boss' skin was the fear of being lambasted by their infamously soulless superiors.

As Konrad showed up directly in front of the trio, he ceased his advance.

"Sir Matthews"

Immediately after he spoke, a couple of response was heard.

"What is it, Mr. Brecheisen?"

"What seems to be the matter, master?"

The man snapped his head in the direction of the younger Matthews.

"I do not recall hiring you as my slave nor butler, Ivanovich."

'I beg to differ. I badly want to refute that.' Ivanovich agonizingly thought to himself.

"Anyway, I would like you to stay here. I have a favor to ask of you."

'See, what is it this time?!' The young man cried behind his smiling eyes.

~~~~~~~~

7:36 pm, Baumhauer Medical Hospital Room 1028

Syn fluttered her eyelids open, having had enough of her extended slumber.

It took her a good minute to assimilate with her environment.

She slowly noticed that the room was quite lively compared to earlier in the day. As of the moment, she couldn't see who her companions were because of the green divider curtains surrounding her private space.

Resting for a lengthy amount of time invigorated her worn-out person. So much so that she felt guilty of lying down in lieu of working in those hours. Well, it was not as if her reluctance to tarry in a hospital had diminished.

Syn continued to stare at the ceiling, waiting until the strength in her body was properly replenished. All of a sudden, a very familiar scent assaulted her nose. The smell of a tray of freshly baked classic French Madeleines with their pronounced lemony aroma permeated her space.

She raised her body to sit and darted her eyes around to inspect the source of the pleasant scent. A rectangular glass vase filled halfway with clean water, full of white flowers, was displayed on top of the nightstand located by the left side of the bed.

The lady became mesmerized by how lovely the flowers were. She had no interest in flowers, yet Syn appreciated their beauty.

"Who put this here?"

Of course, she grew curious about the identity of the giver. She spied the tabletop to find out if there were other things left behind, and there turned out to be several.

She took all the items to her bed and laid them out separately - A plain dusty pink shawl, an aromatherapy candle, a book titled 'To Kill a Mockingbird', and a blue unicorn plush toy. She then proceeded to read the cards attached to each gift.

' {I can finally give you a gift without hearing any of your complaints! Get well soon dear! -Louis} '

' {We will have a party once you get out! Hurry, I want a drink! - Clark} '

' {I have taken care of contacting all the people who needed to be informed that you were confined, including the university. Come back to us in full health. - Mina} '

' {I did not want to disturb your sleep, so I left early. Please notify me when you wake up. You had me extremely worried. -Tristan O' Connor} '

Syn giggled timidly, ever grateful for her friends' gestures that warmed her heart.

"Then I guess these flowers are from Tristan. I will thank them as soon as I am able."

She neatly put the items back on the nightstand. Once Syn was done, she transferred her IV pole to a spot where it would give her the freedom to walk about.

The lady withdrew her curtains in order to have a full view of the room. She immediately saw that the three other beds were now occupied by female patients in the age range of approximately 30 to 50 years old.

Her fellow patients took note of her gaze, so they gave her a smile and nodded as a greeting. Being the most youthful, she returned the gesture with an added respect.

"Oh my, oh my, young lady, you are so pretty! And your eyes are so unique! It is almost as if they're windows to a space ocean!" The woman neighboring her spoke gleefully. "Are those real? If they are, that's amazing!"

Having full awareness, Syn nearly covered her eyes out of reflex. She never failed to do that whenever she was not wearing contacts in public. It was for the reason that some people might consider it revolting for being different.

But this time, she forced her hands to stay down when the elderly woman expressed her admiration openly.

"You flatter me, thank you. You are also gorgeous looking madame."

"Oh, stop it! My husband better learn from you! He never showered me with compliments in our 30 years of marriage!"

Syn sat back on her bed, sitting on the side with her feet dangling, as she faced her conversation partner.

"I do think that your husband wanted to shower you with love instead of fleeting compliments."

"How can you say so, dear?"

"It is because you are glowing, madame. You do feel that love, don't you?"

"Oh my! You have a way with words. Yes, I love my husband very much and he pays me back that love tenfold. Now I'm bragging. I apologize, my dear."

"No, no, it is soothing to learn of your wonderful story."

It was rare for Syn to have such a discussion with someone else. If not with her clients, workmates, or family, she had no one else to talk to. After all, she was the honest type of person who would readily say her opinions no matter how offensive she would sound. 

"I am Rosanna. What is your name, dear?"

"My name is Syn. Wonderful to meet you, Rosanna."

"It is a delight for me too. By the way, Syn dear, where did you get those peonies?"

"Peonies?"

"Yes, those white peonies," Rosanna said as she pointed at the flowers placed on Syn's night table.

"They were given by an acquaintance of mine. Why?"

"Those peonies are called 'Duchesse de Nemours', and they are not in season. It's difficult to search for one when it is only January, in the middle of winter."

"Is that so?"

The elderly woman tilted her head upwards, her face was that of someone trying to recollect a memory.

"In the language of flowers, peonies usually means romance, good fortune, and prosperity. There is one other that I cannot tell if should be taken positive or not."

"What might that be?"

"Hmm, I remember it was bashfulness. This symbolism came from the tale of Paeonia who became embarrassed once she knew that Aphrodite was watching her flirt with Apollo. Aphrodite punished her by turning Paeonia into a peony."