A full week had passed since that day on the shore.
Just yesterday, Cecile had arrived—fully prepared to do anything necessary to come to Carlton—accompanied by Mary and Henry, whose smile spread across his face the moment he saw Neris.
The manor seemed to move to a different rhythm now.
Brighter. Deeper. Yet no less severe.
The heavy doors opened and closed with sounds that echoed through the long corridors. Polished marble columns reflected the warm orange glow of the setting sun, scattering distorted patterns across the floor—like messages that refused to be understood.
Sea wind slipped in through the balconies, carrying salt, dampness, and the distant whisper of waves. Above, seagulls cried in the sky, far removed from the noise of the coastal city below the manor.
This time, Neris was not alone.
The back garden had been prepared in advance to receive Miss Holsten's friends. A tea table was arranged, the trees trimmed and shaped.
It was not as grand as the capital's palaces, but with a little more work, it could surpass them—especially with its view of the distant sea.
For the first time in years, the silent, abandoned garden was filled with laughter and long conversations.
As usual, Henry and Mary were the most enthusiastic, talking endlessly. Neris was genuinely happy to have them together again.
Yet the atmosphere between her and Cecile remained cold.
Cecile watched her quietly, asking only about the Duke.
Henry spoke with his familiar smile, but this time he faced Neris fully—his body, his gaze, his attention fixed on her. He had been sincere when he told her he had missed her.
While they were seated in the garden, Neris asked,
"Would you like to go to the shore?"
Cecile replied,
"No. I'm tired and need some rest. By the way, I heard the Duke hasn't gone out yet. Won't he come to greet us?"
Neris answered, fully aware of her sister's intent,
"I don't think so. He's always busy—even in his own manor, meeting him isn't easy."
Henry intervened,
"That's fine. We didn't come for him anyway. I want to go to the shore."
Neris nodded with a smile and looked at Mary, who exchanged glances with Henry before finally saying,
"No, you two go ahead, my lady. I'm tired as well. Let's go later—I want to see the sunset you told me about in your letters."
Neris smiled.
"Alright, my dear Mary. Rest well, then."
Cecile nodded as well, having already decided to tour the manor and look for the Duke herself.
Adrian stood on the upper floor, behind a massive window overlooking the back garden and the long stretch of shore. The waves shimmered under the shifting light, like a mirror surface breaking every reflection.
He watched the scene below.
His gaze fixed on Neris—laughing, smiling, speaking lightly with Mary and Henry.
He noticed immediately that her relationship with her sister was not as warm as with the others. He saw Henry extend his arm. He saw Neris hesitate—just one step—before linking her arm with his.
The scene was not remarkable.
Just ordinary… disturbingly so.
They walked along the path leading to the shore, trees lining both sides like silent guards.
Every movement under his eyes left a nameless impression behind.
It was not outright irritation.
Nor a thought he could grasp.
Only that quiet weight—the kind that made him watch longer than he should have.
Cecile did not need long to understand.
This was not a man shaped by palaces—but one who used them.
His movements were calculated. His gaze did not seek approval. His mere presence narrowed the space around him.
She had an instinct that never failed her. She could identify a winning horse and wager on it without hesitation—and she had never lost such a bet.
So she would approach him carefully.
Quietly.
Intelligently.
That was all she thought about as she returned to the manor in search of him.
She entered the hall with a deliberate smile and saw Jason standing there in his elegant black suit, speaking to a few maids. She walked straight to him.
"Excuse me, is the Duke available?"
Jason turned toward the voice and saw Cecile behind him. He replied politely,
"I apologize, my lady, but the Duke has just left."
Cecile feigned disappointment.
"Oh, really? Then I suppose I'll wait until later to greet him."
"Of course. Is there anything else you need?"
"Yes. Could you show me around the manor? I heard my sister oversees some things here—I'd like to see them."
"Certainly. This way, please."
Jason led the way, and Cecile followed gracefully in her elegant dress.
Behind them, the maids whispered.
"Is that Miss Neris's sister?"
"Yes, her elder sister."
"She's stunning—her long golden hair, her eyes like the sea."
"Yes, but Miss Neris is just as beautiful. Her honey-colored eyes make her even lovelier."
The other nodded.
"The Holsten family is truly beautiful. If the women are this captivating, imagine how handsome the men must be."
"I heard the eldest son is remarkably handsome—and that he fought in the war as well."
"Really? I hope he visits his sister too."
They both startled when the housekeeper suddenly appeared and scolded them. The maids hurried off to their duties.
In the greenhouse, Cecile arrived with Jason, who explained the latest work Neris had overseen.
But Cecile's mind was elsewhere.
For the Duke to allow Neris to supervise the greenhouse—a role traditionally reserved for the hostess—meant her position was far greater than a mere "advisor," no matter how it was presented.
Cecile clenched her hands, suppressing the anger behind her composed expression. Had she not been wearing gloves, Jason would have noticed her knuckles whitening from the force.
As she walked through the greenhouse—still in need of further work—she stumbled.
Just one step.
The fall wasn't violent.
But it was enough.
Pots fell and shattered. Soil spilled. A half-grown plant tore apart, as though time itself had been cut from it.
Cecile lifted her gaze slowly, regret carefully painted across her features—so perfectly that doubt was impossible.
"Oh no," she said softly. "I'm so terribly sorry. It was an accident."
Jason assessed the damage. The plants were rare—seedlings obtained with difficulty. Still, he replied politely,
"It's quite alright, my lady. Are you hurt?"
She leaned forward sadly, staring at the ruined plants.
"I'm fine… but they aren't. Oh dear, they're completely destroyed. What should we do?"
Jason softened.
"It's truly fine. New plants can always be obtained."
She looked at him innocently.
"How reassuring."
Jason smiled and carefully led the way out of the greenhouse.
Behind him, a small smile curved Cecile's lips—one he did not see.
On the shore, Henry and Neris walked quietly, both watching the waves race toward the sand. The sea played its own music—blue water, endless horizon, where sky and ocean embraced.
Henry alternated between watching the view and watching Neris, who was lost in thought.
He turned to her and asked gently,
"So… we're finally alone."
She frowned, confused.
"So?"
He shrugged.
"We can speak freely. You can tell me what the Duke wants from you."
Neris turned her gaze back to the horizon.
Henry had asked the question that always unraveled her—the one question with no answer, no matter how much she thought about it, no matter how many times she asked its owner.
Adrian von Dyssehard remained the greatest question mark of all.
Even after getting closer to him… she still could not understand him.
She finally looked at Henry and decided to end his curiosity before he returned to the same point.
"As you've heard, he consults me on some matters related to his projects."
Henry frowned skeptically.
"Do you even believe yourself, Neris? He's not a man who needs advice. And even if he did, he wouldn't need an imperial decree to obtain it. It seems he simply wants to keep you close—for reasons unknown."
"Henry, don't exaggerate. I only help when needed, and afterward he lets me do whatever I want. Sometimes, I even feel like I live alone."
She thought bitterly: I'm lying.
About everything—except that last part.
She looked at Henry, who clearly wasn't convinced, and asked,
"Then what reason would he have to keep me near him outside of work?"
"I don't know. None of it makes sense. Have you ever met the Duke before?"
She hid her tension and lied again.
"No."
Henry stared at the sea, growing more unsettled. He kicked a small stone into the water and said,
"If you had met him before, I'd think he was interested in you. But even that doesn't make sense. He could propose to you outright. No matter how I look at it, there's always a logical solution—except issuing a decree to place you under his authority for three years."
Neris looked at him sadly, wanting—just for a moment—to say:
Oh Henry… even I can't find an answer.
Instead, she changed the subject.
She asked about society news. Among her questions, she mentioned Count Hayden.
Henry looked at her curiously.
"Why are you asking about Count Hayden specifically?"
She replied irritably,
"Henry, you're oddly suspicious. I asked about others too—it's just curiosity."
He laughed lightly.
"I don't know much. His affairs seem stable. He's struggling a bit with war taxes, but he's holding on."
He paused, then added,
"Oh—there's a rumor. He proposed to a noblewoman several months ago, but for unknown reasons, her family never responded. They say he's been told to wait at least two years."
Neris's confusion deepened.
"That's interesting. Then I suppose he'll look for another suitable bride."
"No. He decided to wait for her."
Her heart slammed violently against her chest. Her breath tightened, as though the sea had stepped closer than it should.
She tried to breathe, but the air felt too heavy. Her face went pale as Henry's words echoed in her mind.
He's waiting for me. That madman is waiting for me.
Damn him—I thought I was rid of him.
What nobleman would wait that long? He's past marrying age, nearing his forties. Why won't he let go?
Her chest tightened further.
Henry leaned toward her, alarmed.
"Neris—what's wrong? Are you alright?"
He guided her to a nearby rock and helped her sit.
"Hey, Neris. Breathe slowly."
She struggled for air, still shaken.
"Should we return to the manor? Do you need a doctor?"
She shook her head slowly, forcing her breathing to steady. When she finally calmed, she remained silent—and refused to return.
Henry stayed beside her, silent.
Eventually, the iodine-scented air filled her lungs again. She could breathe freely now. The wind scattered her golden hair, like an extension of sunlight itself.
She watched the quiet horizon. She didn't know how long she stayed silent—but Henry respected it.
She knew hundreds of anxious questions must be spinning in his mind, yet he remained quiet.
That alone comforted her.
She broke the silence at last.
"So… how are things with Cecile?"
A sardonic smile lifted one corner of his mouth.
"Nothing. We hardly see each other since you left."
"Why? Have you been busy with your father's affairs?"
"No. I used to visit the manor to see you. After you left, it no longer mattered."
He looked toward the horizon again.
"I realized long ago that I was merely dazzled by Cecile's gentleness. Over time, I understood I didn't love her. Simply put—we don't even like each other. Not to mention how cruel she's always been to you. Past or present—there's nothing between us."
Neris scoffed.
"Cecile has always been cruel to me. Strange it took you so long to notice."
"Yes," he said simply. "I was a great fool."
Neris burst into laughter.
"You truly are the biggest fool I've ever met, Henry Renée."
He frowned, then smiled when he saw her laughing. Reassured that she had finally calmed, he said playfully,
"What do you think—shall we walk to the city? There are cafés and restaurants nearby."
"That sounds fine."
They walked together, their steps in rhythm, talking and laughing. Time passed quickly.
They had lunch at a small restaurant, drank coffee at a café overlooking the shore, then took another walk along the seaside promenade as the sun neared sunset.
And there—outside a luxurious seaside hotel—Adrian emerged with Edwin after concluding his meeting. They stood waiting for the driver.
Edwin noticed her first.
"That— isn't that Miss Holsten over there with her friend?"
Henry said something that made Neris stop and glare at him. Then he extended his arm again, and she linked hers with his once more—after which he whispered something that made her burst into laughter.
"She looks… happy," Edwin said. "This is the first time I've ever seen her laugh like that."
He glanced at his master—who was already looking in that direction.
Edwin realized Adrian must have noticed them first. His expression had not changed. Calm. Indifferent.
Adrian merely nodded faintly in response, his gaze still fixed on her—walking, laughing lightly with Henry.
He didn't understand why her laughter seemed… strange.
Nor why he kept watching.
Especially when he was rarely wrong about such things.