"Serena… agreed to go with me… knowing that we'd have to stay overnight?" I asked slowly, leaning back in my ornate chair. The carved wood pressed reassuringly against my shoulders, the velvet cool beneath my fingertips. The news weighed on me, unexpected and oddly unsettling.
"Yes, Sir Eiser," the woman replied. Her posture remained perfectly fitted to her role—straight back, composed hands—but her eyes flickered with something more human. Concern, perhaps. Or confusion. "She said she wants to go if there is important business to discuss."
"Even though she doesn't want to travel with me..." I murmured, almost to myself. The words left a bitter aftertaste. I wasn't oblivious to how she felt around me—her stiff shoulders, her polite but distant tone, the way she always found reasons to stand a step further away.
And yet, she still agreed.
My eyes narrowed slightly, a contemplative spark flickering. "That certainly sounds like Serena. I thought she would refuse. This is… quite unexpected."
For a brief moment, the room felt quieter than it should. The gilded walls, the tall windows, the faint scent of sandalwood—everything stilled as if waiting for my next thought. As if the entire mansion sensed there was more beneath this simple matter of travel.
The silence broke when the attendant cleared her throat softly.
"Also… I have a letter for you, sir." She stepped forward, holding a silver tray with a crisp envelope resting at its center. White paper, perfectly folded, sealed with a red wax emblem—the letter 'D' pressed into its center like a bruise.
My expression darkened instantly.
"I believe I told you," I said, my voice dipping to its most dangerous register, "not to accept… or pass on any letters from this person."
The attendant swallowed. Her hands tightened against the tray, careful not to rattle it. "The thing is," she began, voice trembling despite her attempt to sound composed, "it came with a note. They insisted this would be their final letter and begged that I deliver it to you directly."
She hesitated, then added in a near whisper:
"I truly didn't know what to do."
My gaze dropped to the envelope, the edges impeccable, the wax unbroken. On top of it was a small folded card written in elegant, calligraphic handwriting:
"I think this will be my final letter.
Please make sure he gets it.
– D –"
The sight of it hardened something in my chest—an instinct, an old wound, an irritation I thought I had buried long ago. The room felt colder for a moment, the candlelight dimmer.
A long, heavy silence stretched between us. The attendant stood frozen, barely daring to breathe.
Finally, with a low exhale, I relented.
"...Leave it there," I said, my eyes never leaving the envelope.
She placed the tray gently on the mahogany side table, bowed, and hurriedly left the room—closing the door behind her with a soft click.
Once she was gone, only the envelope and I remained.
The wax seal gleamed like a drop of blood under the chandelier's light.
And for the first time in a long while...
I found myself hesitating to reach for it.
"Yes, sir," the attendant replied, placing the letter on the side table as I requested. She turned to leave, but her steps slowed, and her mind lingered on the envelope she had just delivered. It was from D…
For years, letters like this had arrived for Sir Eiser at regular intervals—meticulously sealed, elegantly penned—but I had never once read one. I didn't need to. The very sight of them was enough to provoke his icy disregard.
Her eyes drifted to the small stack of similar envelopes tucked neatly in the corner, each bearing that same distinctive 'D' wax seal. She recognized the handwriting immediately: flowing, careful, unmistakably feminine. Yet no return address. Always abroad, always distant… and always unwelcome.
Who was this person who could elicit such a sharp, cold reaction from him? Even after all these years, the question lingered, unspoken, hovering between curiosity and unease.
Her gaze returned to the letter lying on the table. The sight of it was familiar—almost banal in its presence—but there was something in the air now, a subtle weight that made her pulse quicken. Her face remained carefully impassive, but deep inside, a quiet resolve took shape.
A moment later, the flame of a nearby candle flickered. She leaned slightly, just enough for the heat to catch the edge of the envelope. BLAZE.
The letter, elegant and defiant even in its final moments, curled and blackened, smoke spiraling upward. In an instant, it was no more—reduced to ash on the decorative tray, leaving only the faint scent of scorched paper behind. Another letter, like all the others before it, utterly destroyed before it could reach his hands.
Meanwhile, in a brighter, more opulent room, Lady Serena sat at her desk, fingers tracing the edges of documents with careful attention. The sun streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the gold trim of the furniture and the soft sheen of polished wood.
A gentle KNOCK KNOCK interrupted her focus.
A different maid opened the door just slightly, her posture hesitant but precise.
"Lady Serena, Sir Lovis is asking to see you," she announced, her voice barely above a whisper.
Serena's eyes lifted from the papers, the faintest crease forming between her brows. Whatever awaited her now seemed certain to pull her deeper into the world she had tried to navigate cautiously—but she could sense it was no ordinary request.

"Lovis wants to see me? At this hour? He came to see me and not Eiser…?" I muttered, turning slightly in my seat, letting my expression cool into something sharp, dismissive.
Hmph. Figures he'd show up when I least wanted to see anyone.
"Tell him I don't want—no, tell him I'm busy right—"
TA-DA!
The maid didn't even finish relaying my refusal.
The door burst open with the dramatic flair only one man in this entire estate seemed capable of.
Sir Lovis stood proudly in the doorway, practically glowing, holding out a small embroidered handkerchief as if it were a precious royal treasure.
"But Ms. Serena…! You told me to come and get my handkerchief!" he announced brightly, as if this explained everything.
"WHAT?! He was already at the door?!"
My thoughts shrieked in disbelief.
Handkerchief?
What handkerchief?
Then I glanced down—oh.
Right.
That handkerchief.
The one I'd washed and forgotten I was still holding, faintly damp and nicely folded.
"Oh… that's right. I promised to return it to him after having it washed," I recalled aloud with a stiff smile that fooled absolutely no one.
Lovis strolled in with the confidence of a man who had never once been told "no" in his entire life. He didn't even flinch at the daggers in my gaze.
"Of course, I could let her keep all the handkerchiefs she wants…" he said with an airy laugh, putting a dramatic hand to his chest,
"…but this is an opportunity for me to chat with Ms. Serena! May I come in for a moment?"
May I come in?
Sir, you're already halfway across the carpet.
A few minutes later, we were seated at a small table now transformed into an afternoon feast:
Freshly baked pastries still steaming, glossy desserts, the rich scent of premium roasted coffee wrapping around the entire room.
A delightful spread.
Ruined entirely by the fact that I was forced to share it with him.
I lifted my cup, trying to maintain composure.
"The manor always has the best coffee," I said carefully. "It probably tastes excellent because you use high–quality coffee beans, right? There must be a reason the hotel is famous for its delicious coffee—"
"OH, DEAR! Sorry, sorry!!" Lovis yelped, recoiling in panic.
Chibi me: BLAZE! I WILL END YOU!!!
My aura was practically bursting flames, enough to incinerate the pastries on the spot.
Lovis, however, had developed immunity to my murderous aura over time.
He cleared his throat, regaining his usual cheer.
"Coffee is… ah… a sensitive matter right now since they need to change their bean provider because of the Eight Families. My mistake."
He settled back in his chair, smiling with disarming warmth.
"Hmm… I really want to befriend Ms. Serena," he said openly. "Now that she's involved in the business, I'll be seeing her more often."
He observed me with a thoughtful tilt of his head.
"When I saw you before, I could tell right away—you're completely different from Harper. I wouldn't have known you two were siblings if no one had told me. Ha ha!"
His laugh was soft but honest.
And for a moment,
I wasn't sure whether I should stay angry—
or feel unsettled by how easily he could read me.
"As you know, I was very good friends with Harper," Lovis continued, completely oblivious to the storm brewing in my eyes. "Oh, he even told me this."
Hmph. Talking about my brother won't save you. I'm not falling for it. I crossed my arms, trying to regain composure.
Lovis, however, just smiled knowingly.
"I heard that when you were twelve, you got rejected after confessing your feelings to your friend Colin—"
"EEEK!"
I nearly leapt out of my chair, the sound of my own shriek echoing in the room. My cheeks burned a furious shade of crimson.
"I WASN'T REJECTED…!" I shrieked, flailing, denying the humiliating truth—but the memory stabbed sharper than I cared to admit.
Ligh, my moron brother! Did he tell them everything?! My mind raced in mortification as I glanced down at the table, willing the floor to open and swallow me whole.
Suddenly, the scene replayed in painful, vivid detail:
Twelve-year-old me, rosy-cheeked, clutching a box of chocolates with trembling hands. "These chocolates represent my feelings for you," I had whispered, barely able to look up.
Twelve-year-old Colin, utterly absorbed in his thick physics textbook, had replied without hesitation, "I'm sorry. I want to focus on physics and my scientific research right now. I can't accept your feelings."
And then—oh, the horror—the image of me standing frozen, cheeks aflame, being consoled by my concerned parents and my ever-watchful older brother Harper, flashed in my mind. Mortification incarnate.
Lovis chuckled heartily, leaning back in his chair, clearly savoring my discomfort.
"Haha! Now I really want to know more about this kid called Colin who stole your heart when you were twelve," he said with an amused smirk. His eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity—or perhaps delight at my embarrassment.
I slowly sank back into my chair, my fiery temper momentarily smothered by the deep, gnawing humiliation. My gaze locked on his, vulnerable and slightly wary.
"You… don't like me, do you?" I asked, my voice quieter than intended, betraying my momentary defenselessness.
Lovis's smile softened, shifting from amusement to something more earnest. His eyes held a trace of seriousness I hadn't expected.
"I have a rough idea of what's going on," he said carefully. "I know why you don't trust Eiser… and why you're uncomfortable around him."
Something in his tone hinted at understanding beyond mere observation. My chest tightened slightly, caught between suspicion and an unfamiliar sense of relief.
Lovis's expression had shifted, leaving behind all traces of playfulness. His gaze was steady, serious, almost piercing.
"I have a rough idea of what's going on," he said quietly. "I know why you don't trust Eiser… and why you're uncomfortable around him."
I blinked, unsure how to respond.
"And that's why you feel uncomfortable around me too," he continued, leaning forward slightly. "Because you think I'm after the same thing. Am I correct?"
I hesitated. My finger absently pushed a few crumbs around the table, tracing aimless patterns on the fine wood.
"…I was a little disappointed at first…" he admitted softly, almost as if confessing a fault, "…but when I thought about things from your point of view, I could see why you might feel that way."
I shifted in my chair, averting my gaze.
To be precise… I didn't dislike Lovis, nor did I hate him. But there was a strange tension, an unease I couldn't quite put into words.
A memory surfaced unbidden, monochrome and distant, like an old painting in motion.
I saw myself holding a sparkling diamond, standing in the center of a lavish room. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, and murmurs of admiration floated in the air.
The most famous jeweler in the kingdom is Silon, I recalled.
In the memory, I was speaking to the others present, my voice measured but tinged with disappointment:
"I was expecting much more when you said you would bring something special… but a Silon diamond? I've already told you several times, I don't want anything from Silon, even if it's a diamond."
But the memory softened, becoming warmer. I looked down at the diamond in my hand. My expression was tinged with melancholy, but also understanding.
I remembered how kind and genuinely friendly they had been toward my grandmother, my mother, and me. How hard they had tried to maintain a close relationship, despite the circumstances.
And then—suddenly—the memory fractured.
A blindingly bright image replaced it: a woman, radiant and animated, surrounded by a halo of sparkling diamonds.
"HELLO, MS. SERENA! WE'RE HERE!"
The voice was loud, cheerful, impossible to ignore, filling the room and dragging me from my reverie.
I squinted against the sudden brilliance, my thoughts scattering like shards of glass.
A sudden rush of coldness washed over me as the memories returned—the sparkling diamonds, the woman's radiant smile, the warmth that had once seemed so genuine.
When I was younger, the kindness from Silon's representatives had been comforting. Their gestures had seemed sincere, even to a child. They arrived with gifts that felt thoughtful, lavish, and personal.
On my thirteenth birthday, for instance, they presented me with a stunning box.
"We made these toe shoes especially for Ms. Serena… to celebrate her 13th birthday. I'd like to wish you a happy birthday on behalf of Silon!"
Their praise had been endless. "You are all such perfect muses for Silon. Lady Iansa honors our jewels with her elegance and grace, Lady Bellatia with her stately beauty, and Ms. Serena with her loveliness."
I had listened, a wide-eyed girl basking in the attention, thinking, I hope the friendship between our families lasts a lifetime.
But over the years, the very kindness that had once warmed me became a wound.
The moment my family's wealth and status vanished—the moment Serenity fell into crisis after the carriage accident—their smiles faded, replaced by cold calculation.
A harsh memory flashed in dark red:
"Ugh, things were going so well! What a waste," a Silon representative had exclaimed, his tone sharp with contempt.
"What a mess! I've already spent all our funds expecting payment for our new products. Who knew Serenity would collapse so easily? We thought they would last forever. Now… they're nothing."
Their mercenary words continued, cutting deeper than any blade:
"My goodness… all they have left is a sick old lady and a mere child. Looks like they have no chance of bouncing back. Find another source of money for us, quickly! And the child? Since her family's lost everything, she should probably marry into a wealthy family while she's still young and pretty. Should I play the matchmaker? HAHAHA HA HA HA."
I shook my head slowly, returning to the present, to the warmth of the room and to Lovis sitting across from me. The weight of that memory—the laughter, the betrayal, the sudden, merciless change in attitude—weighed heavily on my shoulders.
"I remember all too well how it felt… when their attitude toward me changed," I said quietly, my voice low but firm, the memory still raw. "That's why it's hard for me to deal with you, Lovis."
For a moment, the room was silent. Lovis's expression softened. He leaned forward, just slightly, not pushing, simply acknowledging the depth of what I had revealed.
Lovis watched me in silence, his earlier playful cheerfulness replaced by a quiet, genuine sympathy. There was none of the teasing glint in his eyes, none of the calculated charm he often wielded so effortlessly. It was… different. Honest.
"That's why it's hard for me to deal with Lovis," I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. Speaking the truth felt exposing, almost raw, but there was also a strange relief in finally letting it out. My gaze dropped to the table, avoiding his eyes.
I understood, at some level, that Lovis was unlike the people from Silon. Yet… he was still part of the Eight Families. My instincts, honed by years of betrayal and disappointment, urged caution. Kindness could be a currency, friendship a commodity. I had learned this painfully, and my defenses were automatic.
"I'm here because of Eiser," Lovis began softly, leaning forward, "and you're here because of Eiser." His tone was gentle, but not patronizing. "I think Eiser knows about your discomfort. He is aware of your feelings regarding the situation. He probably already told you what I'm about to say."
I remained silent, my hands fidgeting lightly with the edge of the napkin on the table.
He inhaled, his voice lowering, carrying a weight I hadn't expected. "I am Eiser's most reliable person, and I consider him my most reliable person. You don't have to trust me right away…" His gaze met mine, steady, unwavering. "But I promise you this, Serena."
He paused, as if carefully choosing the exact measure of his words. His expression hardened, not with anger, but with absolute sincerity. "I will never betray you."
The conviction in his voice struck me. Slowly, hesitantly, I lifted my gaze to meet his. His eyes held nothing but earnestness—no hidden agendas, no playful tricks. For the first time in a long while, I found myself wondering if he truly meant it.
Then, a small smile curved his lips. Less mischievous than before, it carried warmth and reassurance instead. "I'm really looking forward to getting to know the person Harper calls his most sensible and beloved little sister."
His words, simple yet earnest, settled into the quiet corners of the room.
Lovis's visit had been more than the return of a handkerchief. It had shifted something subtle but significant—a small crack in my walls, a tentative thread of trust beginning to form. His promise lingered in the air, unspoken but powerful, making the heavy weight of wariness feel just a little lighter.
For the first time, I allowed myself to consider that perhaps… not all alliances were born of convenience or greed.
Lovis had left only a few minutes ago, yet his words echoed in my mind: "I will never betray you."
It was a promise that clung stubbornly to my thoughts—strong, impossible to dismiss entirely—but given my past, trusting it fully felt almost reckless. Years of disappointment had taught me that even the kindest gestures could hide sharp edges.
A knock at the door pulled me from my reverie.
"Ms. Serena, the carriage is ready for your departure with Sir Eiser," the young maid announced, her voice polite yet deferential.
"Very well. I'll be right there," I replied, rising from the chair and smoothing the folds of my traveling dress. My fingers lingered over the fabric for a moment longer than necessary, almost as if it could armor me against the swirling thoughts inside my head.
As I stepped toward the main entrance, my mind continued its silent debate. Lovis's sincerity had unsettled me. He was right—I needed to remain cautious, especially when kindness could so easily be mistaken for strategy.
Outside, the carriage gleamed under the morning sun. Eiser stood beside it, impeccably dressed as always, radiating that effortless control I had learned to both admire and mistrust. He turned his gaze toward me, sharp and calculating.
"Are you ready to go, Serena?" he asked.
"Yes, I am," I replied evenly, maintaining a careful neutrality. No hint of the inner tumult reached my voice.
We stepped into the luxurious carriage together, and the heavy door closed behind us, sealing off the familiar bustle of the estate. The carriage lurched forward, the wheels rolling steadily along the cobbled road.
"I hear you had a pleasant chat with Lovis," Eiser remarked casually, as if testing the waters.
I turned my head, eyes fixed on the blur of passing trees outside the window. "I wouldn't call it pleasant," I corrected him tersely.
Eiser's expression remained calm, almost amused. "He told me that you wouldn't accept any gifts from him either," he continued, unfazed by my cold tone.
I remained silent, my gaze catching my reflection in the glass. It was true. I had rejected any offering he had made, politely but firmly, just as I did with any other representative of the major families.
Lovis was very close to Eiser. Accepting a gift from him would feel like accepting Eiser's protection—and I didn't need it. I had learned the hard way how quickly people's attitudes changed once they realized they couldn't manipulate me.
Eiser's voice broke through my thoughts, low and measured. "Still stubborn, I see."
I snapped my gaze back to him, startled by the sharp edge hidden beneath his calm. His eyes were analytical, piercing, as though he could read every flicker of thought behind my carefully maintained mask.
I have already seen how people act when they realize they can't use you anymore… I won't ever rely on anyone again.
"I will never need anyone's help," I said firmly, my voice low, resolute. Each word carried weight, an invisible challenge cast back at him.
For a moment, silence hung between us, punctuated only by the soft rhythm of the carriage wheels. The tension was palpable, an unspoken battle of wills contained within the moving chamber.
Eiser's lips curved slightly, the barest hint of a smile, but his eyes remained unreadable, sharp as ever.
than I wanted to admit.
"I wish I could have met you much earlier, Serena," Eiser said, his voice soft enough to seem out of place in the closed, shadowed carriage.
I felt my breath hitch—only slightly, but enough that I hoped he didn't notice. Earlier… before Serenity's accident? Before the Silon family's betrayal? Before my world crumbled?
What difference would that have made?
I turned my face away, unwilling to let him read anything from my expression. Outside, the trees passed in blurred strokes, like an old painting smudged by time.
"What difference would that have made?" I asked coldly, not looking at him.
Eiser didn't answer right away. I heard him shift in his seat, slow and composed, as if choosing his words carefully.
"Because," he finally said, "I would've liked to see who you were before everyone failed you."
My breath stilled.
He wasn't mocking me. He wasn't pitying me. He wasn't even challenging me.
He was… sincere.
That made it even harder to breathe.
I clenched my jaw. I don't need his sympathy. Sympathy was just another form of weakness—another thread someone could pull.
"You don't need to know who I was," I replied stiffly. "And who I am now is none of your concern either."
Eiser let out a quiet exhale, almost a laugh but lacking any real amusement.
"That's where you're wrong," he murmured. "Both versions are my concern."
I glared sharply at him, but he wasn't looking at me anymore. His gaze was lowered, focused on his gloved hands resting loosely atop his knee. His posture, his expression—everything about him was too calm, too controlled. It irritated me.
"Don't pretend you care," I snapped.
He lifted his eyes to mine, and for a moment I felt pinned in place.
"I'm not pretending."
Silence. Heavy, suffocating, thick with all the things I refused to believe.
I forced myself to look away. My chest was tight, too tight. I pressed my fingers against my knee under the folds of my skirt, grounding myself.
The carriage continued forward, gravel crunching beneath the wheels as the road shifted into darker woodland.
Eiser's voice broke the silence once more—quiet, but firm.
"You can threaten to leave me all you want, Serena," he said. "But don't delude yourself into thinking you're the only one who's been watching people walk away."
I froze.
For the first time, Eiser looked… vulnerable. Barely—but enough that I knew I wasn't imagining it.
But before I could decide whether to ask, accuse, or ignore, he straightened again, the fleeting softness disappearing like a faint breath on a windowpane.
"We'll be arriving before nightfall," he said, tone neutral once more. "Rest if you'd like."
Rest? With him here? Impossible.
I leaned back as well, keeping my gaze firmly out the window, gripping the last of my pride like a weapon.
But his earlier words kept echoing, as unwanted as they were impossible to silence.
I wish I could have met you much earlier.
The drink ? What he have been drinking ?
He sat on the chair as his eyes are closed . His well built body straightened .
I felt a shiver run down my spine as I looked at him. The man lying on the sofa, bathed in the soft, eerie green light that filtered through the curtains, had suddenly become a puzzle I couldn't read.
STARE
What's gotten into him? I thought, my eyes tracing the taut line of his jaw, the faint tension in his fingers. There was something… different. Dangerous. Unpredictable.
I stepped closer, carefully, trying to gauge his mood. The quiet of the room only made the moment feel heavier, the air thick, almost tangible. My fingers itched to reach out—perhaps to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, or rest lightly on his cheek—but before I could, I noticed a subtle shift in him.
BRUSH… DROP…
His arm moved—too fast.
OPEN…
His eyes snapped open. Brilliant, piercing blue, locking onto mine like twin shards of ice. My breath caught, and the sudden intensity of his gaze sent a shock straight to my chest.
GRAB
Before I could even react, his hand shot out, clamping around my wrist with a strength that stole my balance.
"Oh?!" I gasped, startled, my voice barely audible in the thick air of the room.
Then, with a single, abrupt motion, he YANKED my hand toward him. My feet slipped, the floor tilting beneath me as if the world itself had shifted.
BLUR… YANK…
The ornate chandelier above us spun in a dizzying cascade of glittering light, its reflection scattering across the polished floor.
…And then, almost impossibly, I found myself leaning over him on the sofa. My hair spilled across his chest like a waterfall of silk, framing his face in a halo I hadn't intended to create.
His gaze didn't waver—intense, unwavering, blue as ice and fire all at once. My heart pounded so violently I was sure he could hear it.
For a fleeting, terrifying moment, I was trapped—not just physically, but in the weight of his presence, in the gravity of his sudden, intoxicating intensity.
I tried to speak, tried to pull back, but the words caught somewhere in my throat, swallowed by the dizzying closeness, the overpowering magnetism of his stare.
Every rational thought screamed at me to step away, but something else, something dangerously compelling, kept me frozen—caught between fear, surprise, and… something I didn't yet understand.