Ryan had a dream.
He dreamed of an angel with golden hair who had just descended from heaven, resting a gentle hand against his cheek.
The moment the angel’s slender fingertips brushed his shoulders, the heaviness weighing down his body lifted.
Lacing her fingers through his, the angel smiled softly.
Ryan caught his breath without realizing it.
‘Just a little longer…’
He hesitated, reaching out toward her golden hair, but she checked him with a light touch on his forearm.
Pausing, Ryan gazed at her intently.
A faint flush rose to his cheeks as he waited in silence to see what she would do.
Tracing her hand from his shoulders, the angel patted his back in a soothing gesture, then took a step back as if preparing to leave.
‘Don’t go…’
Without meaning to, Ryan gripped her slender wrist tightly.
He did not want her to go; he wanted this vague sense of peace to last.
A sudden impulse seized him to pull the angel into his arms and bury his face in her embrace.
‘Please, don’t leave…’
When he tried to look at her clearly, the angel drifted away and soared into the sky.
A soft breeze blew, casting her golden hair across her face.
Just before she vanished, Ryan caught a glimpse of green eyes—clear and cool as leaves.
‘Anasta…?’
Ryan called her name. All at once, his vision went dark, and his heavy eyelids fluttered open instead.
Bright sunlight, a chilly draft, and a window locked tightly from the outside. A quiet room…
It was his own bedroom. Realizing it had only been a dream, Ryan stared at the ceiling for a long time, stirred by an unsettling sensation he could not name.
“…Damn it.”
Pulling the blanket over himself, he turned his face away, trying to banish the lingering dream from his mind.
It was an unusual dream… and he had no idea why it had felt so real.
Knock, knock.
· · ·
Ryan caught his breath, wondering if it was Anasta.
“Young Master, are you awake?”
It was Paul, the head butler.
“…Ah, yes. Draw my bath. I want to wash.”
“Will you not have breakfast?”
“I sweated, so my skin feels sticky. It’s unbearable.”
“I will assist you with your bath.”
“I’m not a child, damn it! I can wash myself!”
“…I will prepare the water.”
The butler entered Ryan’s room and adjusted the water temperature for the bath.
Meanwhile, Ryan undressed behind the privacy screen.
He then stood before the mirror.
With a towel wrapped around his waist, his lean, well-defined frame was on full display.
Though he had grown thinner than before, his build remained toned, hardly resembling that of a sick man.
Ryan looked at his reflection with dissatisfaction, the angel from his dream coming to mind once more.
‘Damn it.’
He glanced past the screen toward the door to Anasta’s room.
· · ·
It was quiet; she didn’t seem to be awake yet.
Seeing that the butler had finished preparing the water, Ryan said, “You will bring me breakfast and my medicine today, Paul.”
“That is Lady Anasta’s duty.”
“I am not asking you to do it every day. Just this morning. It won’t hurt to give her… a little freedom in the morning.”
Ryan spoke as he stepped into the tub.
Submerging himself in the steaming water, he let out an appreciative sigh.
Just then, Anasta’s face flashed before his eyes.
‘Damn it.’
Ryan scowled and slapped the surface of the water without thinking.
“Young Master?”
“Get out. I don’t need any help.”
He spoke in a low voice, glaring at Paul, who remained standing beside him.
“If there is any trouble…”
“Do I have to repeat myself?”
“…Pardon me. I will take my leave.”
Anasta was told to take some rest.
The break had come out of nowhere, but she did not lose her composure.
She waited for about an hour in case Ryan called for her, only moving once she heard he had taken his breakfast and medicine.
After washing, slipping into her coat, and eating breakfast, she sat focused before the chessboard.
Afterward, she prepared to visit the Greenhouse.
Finally, after receiving permission from the head maid for an hour’s stroll, Anasta tied her hair back, took a book in hand, and stepped out.
The wind blew sharply today, biting like blades.
Leaning on her crutch, she hurried along toward the Greenhouse.
Stepping quickly inside, she took in the flowers, the trees, and the butterflies, then sought out the bench she had sat on the last time.
The maids following her kept their distance so as not to disturb her reading.
Anasta offered a polite smile of appreciation for their consideration, then opened her book.
“What book is that?”
· · ·
Anasta’s shoulders flinched at the low voice behind her.
“Oh, my apologies for startling you, Lady.”
“…No, it is quite alright.”
Anasta looked back at the man squatting behind the bench.
He had gentle, remarkably handsome features.
Unlike Ryan’s sharp countenance, this man possessed a striking, relaxed look, his eyes crinkling into a smile.
· · ·
Anasta remained silent for a moment as she observed his smile, trying to deduce his identity.
A face marked by wealth, youth, and an elegant, costly wardrobe.
“Forgive my late introduction. I am Duran Soltaire, Lady.”
It was Ryan’s half-brother.
Recalling the head maid’s earlier warning to avoid running into him if at all possible, Anasta dipped her head.
“I am Anasta Winterlit. I came here to become Young Master Ryan’s bride.”
She greeted him with quiet, impeccable courtesy.
“Goodness, you seem far too precious a jewel to be given away to my brother.”
· · ·
“What about you? Do you not regret coming here?”
“That is an awkward question, Sir.”
“I had no intention of making you uncomfortable. Might I offer you some tea by way of an apology?”
Anasta glanced toward the maids waiting in the distance.
They had not noticed yet, but if anyone found the two of them together, the situation would turn terribly complicated.
Besides, Anasta herself felt uneasy in his presence.
“I must take my leave now.”
“Wait, didn’t you only just arrive?”
Duran asked, surprised.
He had expected her to be uncomfortable around him, but he had not anticipated she would avoid him so blatantly.
“It seems this is not a suitable place for reading.”
Grasping her crutch, she inclined her head.
“Then it is because of me. Please stay. I will remain quiet.”
“It is not because of you, Sir. It is just that the overpowering fragrance of the flowers distracts me from reading.”
“That must be because I am here. After all, I am a flower myself.”
· · ·
With an impassive face, Anasta stared at Duran, who had delivered the jest with utter shamelessness.
· · ·
“When you stare at me like that without uttering a word, I feel a bit self-conscious.”
Duran found himself at a loss for words before her expression.
“I offer my apologies if I flustered you.”
“No. I was merely surprised. It is my first time hearing someone say such words.”
“Well then, what do you think? What is your impression now that we have met face-to-face?”
“Astonishing.”
“Many tell me that. That I am astonishing. That is my charm.”
· · ·
“Haha… there you go, giving me that look again.”
While Anasta regarded Duran as an odd and curious creature, Duran looked at her with a hint of condescension.
‘Ah, so she’s that sort of woman.’
Drawing on a decade of dominating high society, meeting countless women, and carrying on secret trysts with them, Duran felt he had grasped Anasta’s character entirely.
She was simply an innocent young lady who knew nothing of the world.
‘Seducing her will be easy.’
Duran chuckled wickedly to himself.
“Tell me, how is life at the manor?”
Duran carefully introduced a topic to win the guarded woman’s confidence.
“It is comfortable.”
“Liar.”
Duran replied with a charming smile.
“The ducal residence is utterly dull and quiet. There are no young people here save for a few maids. The rest are all stiff, difficult elders.”
· · ·
“Even so, since you have my brother, perhaps things are slightly better. I hear you are both the same age—do you get along well?”
Duran watched Anasta’s expression closely as he spoke.
“Though he is my brother, he is an exceedingly difficult man to handle. And after falling ill, that overbearing temperament of his has only grown more prickly.”
· · ·
· · ·
“Whenever it becomes too much, you can ask me for help. I may not know everything about my brother, but I am very good at listening. Go on, speak. I will listen to whatever you have to say.”
Resting his chin on his hand, Duran looked at Anasta with an ambiguous gaze.
His eyes brimmed with warmth as if ready to hear anything, yet Anasta did not part her lips to offer a single word.
END
