Pillyse now living as Denova had just survived what could only be described as a mountain of paperwork.
No, not a stack.
A mountain.
An unforgiving, towering, soul-draining mountain carefully prepared by her butler, complete with tabs, notes, projections, and plans for the project she herself had confidently proposed as if she actually knew what she was doing.
She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling, fingers still cramped from signing her name one too many times.
"I did this to myself", she thought tiredly.
"Next time, maybe don't sound so capable."
Her tea had long gone cold.
The sunlight had shifted.
Even the room felt quieter now, as if the manor itself was holding its breath after watching her struggle for hours.
And yet her mind refused to stay where it belonged.
It kept drifting back to that silent corridor.
The look she'd seen.
The tension she hadn't been meant to witness.
Denova exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples.
"Why did I even notice? "she scolded herself. "It wasn't my business."
But curiosity was a stubborn thing.
Yoter's composed expression, so calm on the surface, yet strangely distant.
Patricia's gaze, soft, hopeful, and aching in a way that felt far too familiar.
Denova swallowed.
Will he love her back?
Or is this one of those feelings that grows quietly… and dies quietly too?
She tapped her fingers against the desk, unaware she was doing it.
Patricia tried so hard. Anyone could see that. But effort alone had never been enough to make someone love you, Denova knew that better than anyone. Some feelings, no matter how sincere, simply couldn't be returned. Not because they weren't worthy, but because the heart… refused.
And Yoter. "What are you thinking? " she wondered. "Do you even know?"
She frowned slightly.
There was something painful about watching two people orbit each other so closely, never quite touching. It felt like standing at the edge of a story she recognized too well. One where timing was cruel, and emotions were always just a step behind understanding.
Denova straightened, forcing herself to refocus on the documents in front of her.
This isn't about me, she told herself firmly. I have enough confusion of my own.
Still, her chest felt strangely tight.
Maybe it was because she understood Patricia more than she wanted to admit. Or maybe it was because watching someone hope, quietly, bravely, made her think about all the things people wished for without ever daring to say aloud.
She picked up her pen again, glancing down at the plans.
Whatever happens, she thought softly, I just hope it doesn't break them.
The papers waited patiently.
But her thoughts stayed in that corridor lingering between unspoken feelings, unanswered questions, and a future that refused to reveal itself just yet.
Unbeknownst to Denova, she wasn't the only silent witness to what had unfolded in that quiet corridor.
Kael had been there too.
Not because he wanted to be nosy.
Not because he enjoyed listening to other people's emotional disasters.
But because the Duke had asked him to.
The night before, Elarion had stood by the window of his study, arms crossed, gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the glass. His voice had been steady, but Kael had learned long ago that calmness from the Duke usually meant something was deeply wrong.
"Watch them," Elarion had said.
"Yoter, and Patricia...Something's off."
So Kael watched.
He kept his distance, stayed where the shadows were thick and footsteps rarely echoed. And then he heard it, the conversation that wasn't meant for anyone else. The words that spilled out once politeness finally broke.
Patricia's anger.
Her pain.
The way her voice cracked when she spoke of things she'd held inside for far too long.
And Yoter…
Kael frowned slightly just remembering it.
Yoter hadn't been cruel.
He hadn't been dismissive.
If anything, he looked completely lost.
Like someone who'd walked into a room only to realize he didn't recognize anything anymore.
He asked questions too late.
He tried to understand when the damage had already been done.
It wasn't indifference.
It was ignorance.
Later that night, Kael stood in the Duke's study, reporting everything as clearly as he could. He left nothing out, not the raised voices, not the tears, not the way Yoter stood there long after Patricia walked away, staring at nothing.
When Kael finished, the Duke didn't speak right away.
Instead, he sighed.
Not a small sigh.
Not a polite one.
But a long, heavy exhale that felt like it carried the weight of the entire household.
"So," Elarion said quietly, rubbing his temples, "it's really happening."
Two months.
That's all the time left before losing one of the most capable, loyal servants the Ashenveil household had ever known. Patricia's resignation letter had arrived a week earlier, clean and respectful, written with a finality that left no room for persuasion. He had read it more times than he could count, wondering what pain could drive someone so devoted to walk away.
"I am hoping," the Duke admitted, "that there is another reason."
Losing Patricia wasn't simple. She wasn't just a servant, she was someone he trusted without question. Someone who kept the manor running smoothly even when things went wrong behind the scenes.
People like that didn't come easily.
Kael hesitated, then spoke again. "Your Grace… I don't think Yoter knows what he feels."
The Duke looked up.
"But," Kael added carefully, "he cares for her.
That much is obvious.
He noticed when she started avoiding him.
He was bothered.
Confused, and when she cried…" Kael paused. "It affected him more than he realized"
Elarion leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"So he cares," he murmured. "But doesn't realize whether it's love."
"Yes," Kael said. "Or perhaps… he's realized it too late."
The Duke let out a soft, almost humorless chuckle. "That sounds like Yoter."
Silence settled between them for a moment.
"He's loyal," Elarion continued. "Too loyal to his role, to his duty, to what he thinks he's supposed to feel." His expression softened. "But that doesn't mean his heart is empty."
Kael nodded.
"And Patricia," the Duke added quietly, "Maybe she has already waited long enough."
Another sigh escaped him, slower this time. "I can't blame her for leaving. Sometimes staying hurts more than walking away."
He stood and moved toward the window, looking out at the dimly lit grounds of the manor.
"I only hope," he said, voice low and sincere, "that whatever path they take, together or apart, it leads them somewhere kinder than this moment. That they do not spend the rest of their lives wondering what if."
Kael bowed slightly. "I hope so too, Your Grace."
As Kael left the study, the Duke remained where he was, staring into the night.
He didn't know whether Yoter's feelings would ever become clear or whether Patricia would ever return.
But he did know one thing for certain.
Care left unspoken could hurt just as deeply as love unreturned.
And sometimes, by the time the heart catches up… the person it was beating for is already gone.
In a chair Yoter sat there, staring at absolutely nothing, and somehow thinking about everything at once.
The room was quiet, the kind that made every thought echo louder than it should. Yesterday kept replaying in his mind no matter how hard he tried to push it away.
Patricia's voice.
Her trembling hands.
The way her tears fell like she had been holding them back for years.
He swallowed hard.
How could something hurt this much?
He had always believed…no, convinced himself that he didn't have feelings like that.
Not for her.
Not for anyone.
Emotions were distractions, luxuries he was never trained to indulge in.
Since childhood, his life had followed a single, unchanging path, discipline, loyalty, service. He was raised to be a butler, shaped to be useful, precise, dependable. Feelings were things you learned to silence, not explore.
And yet… the moment she cried yesterday, something inside him cracked.
His chest had tightened so suddenly it scared him. Seeing her break like that, because of him felt… unbearable.
It wasn't pity.
It wasn't guilt alone.
It was something deeper, sharper, something that left him restless long after she walked away.
"I've never felt this before," he muttered to himself, voice barely audible in the empty room.
Patricia had always been there. For years, she stood at his side, steady and capable, filling the spaces he didn't even realize were empty. With her around, the work felt lighter, the days more manageable.
He felt… capable.
Like together, they could handle anything the manor threw at them.
She was his constant, his unspoken reassurance.
And now she was leaving.
Two months.
She had said it so calmly, as if it didn't matter. As if it didn't feel like she had reached into his chest and quietly taken something that belonged there. The fact that she had already begun training a replacement made it worse. Every time he saw the new maid following her around, asking questions, laughing awkwardly, his stomach twisted in a way he couldn't explain.
He didn't want a replacement.
He wanted her.
The realization made his grip tighten around the wine glass in his hand.
"What is this feeling?" he whispered, frustrated, almost angry at himself.
He leaned back, eyes closing briefly as he tried to untangle the mess in his head. He wanted her near him always. Her presence soothed him in ways he never questioned. But he had never labeled it as romance.
Never allowed himself to.
Or maybe… he had simply been avoiding the truth because it terrified him.
"Was I lying to myself all this time?" he wondered.
The thought made his chest ache.
Maybe he was afraid.
Afraid of stepping outside the life he had been trained for.
Afraid of emotions he didn't know how to control. Loving someone wasn't part of his duties.
There were no rules, no proper procedures for this kind of chaos inside his heart.
He raised the glass again, only to realize it was empty.
Three bottles.
He laughed softly, bitter and exhausted.
The room felt dimmer now, his thoughts heavier, his emotions looser and harder to contain.
The wine dulled the edges but didn't quiet the storm.
If anything, it made the truth harder to ignore.
He didn't know what he truly felt.
Or maybe he did, and he just wasn't brave enough to say it out loud.
Yoter stared at the ceiling, heart pounding in a rhythm he didn't recognize, and for the first time in his carefully ordered life, he felt completely lost.
And somewhere deep down, beneath the confusion and fear, one truth kept resurfacing no matter how much wine he drank to drown it. The idea of a life without Patricia hurt more than he ever thought possible.