For Anasta, who already knew of Ryan's brilliant past, none of what they said came as a surprise.
“He was truly remarkable. Even as his friend, I stood in awe of him. Ryan was always top of our class throughout our academy days. He never wavered, and nothing ever stood in his path.”
“Rumors of Sir Ryan’s brilliance even reached my school. Everyone used to linger outside the Military Academy just to catch a glimpse of him.”
The siblings recounted Ryan's feats—from his daily life to his drills and accomplishments—as though boasting of their own past glory.
A man who shone with flawlessness, an exceptional figure untainted by fault.
That was how they spoke of Ryan.
Anasta found herself helplessly swept up in tales of a Ryan she had never known.
The man she had thought was like her had once burned far brighter than she ever imagined.
A brilliant, vibrant soul.
She could not begin to fathom the agony he must have felt—a man who once walked the high heavens, only to plummet to the bottom of the sea.
“We’ve kept you talking far too long,”
Alex said with an awkward smile.
“Forgive me, but could you deliver this to Sir Ryan?”
“This is…”
Anasta looked down at the red ring case Alex drew from his pocket.
“It belongs to him. The moment he sees it, he will know what it is.”
“I will see it safely into his hands.”
“Please do.”
Anasta nodded in response to Alex's polite bow.
“I must take my leave now.”
She checked the hour.
She could have lingered longer, but Scarlett’s sharp, watchful glare—fixed on her for some time now as though in warning—was grating.
Besides, she worried for Ryan, alone in the annex.
“Goodness, we held you for so long.”
“It is quite all right.”
“We hope to meet you again, Lady.”
Ryan sat by the window, staring blankly outside.
His view was obstructed, but the glow of the main mansion flickered faintly from behind the opposite building.
Without a doubt, House Soltaire's annual banquet had commenced in splendid fashion once again.
He recalled the first time he had ever attended it.
Though a few had sought to diminish him back then, he had always held his head high.
What of him now?
Despite having the right to attend, he had refused the invitation and stayed trapped within this small room and its window, utterly helpless.
His fiancée had gone to the banquet, while he remained in disarray, wearing a flimsy ruffled shirt and black trousers, his hair uncombed.
Shame and disgust washed over him.
While he was like this, Anasta, dressed in all her elegance, was surely carrying herself with poise.
Perhaps she was listening to them slander and mock him.
No, she certainly was.
What was crossing her mind right now? Would she smile and play along just to keep the peace?
Perhaps she felt ashamed for the first time to be his fiancée.
Or perhaps she was overjoyed at the thought of escaping this place once the night was through.
A self-mocking smirk pulled at his lips.
· · ·
He looked down at his hand, trembling against the cold night air.
Perhaps because he had taken his medicine only a short while ago, a slight tremor ran through him and his heart pounded fiercely.
Unwilling to cause any commotion, he gripped his shaking hand and drew a long, slow breath.
A few minutes slipped by before he finally let go.
When he lifted his head, his eyes fell upon his dark, dreary room, such a stark contrast to the brilliant night beyond the glass.
He was all alone.
No maid, no butler, and not even Anasta was here.
Ryan Soltaire. Only him.
“Ha.”
A quiet, bitter laugh escaped him.
A crushing wave of loneliness crashed over his chest.
It felt as though he had been cast away into a deserted ghost town. Nothing remained but his own long shadow stretching behind him.
Rustle.
Just then, a stir of movement came from outside.
‘Anasta?’
“Is Ryan Soltaire really here?”
The voice drifting up from below belonged to a man.
“Word has it he’s locked away in one of the detached annexes.”
“Do you have any idea how many annexes House Soltaire has?”
“Well, seeing as he’s a duke’s son, he’d be in a decently sized one. Like this place right here.”
Two men looked up toward the window. They wore familiar uniforms, pinned with brooches that marked them as cadets of the Military Academy.
‘Rats have crept in.’
Ryan let out an irritated, frustrated breath.
They seemed to be from his year, yet because he did not recognize them, they were bound to be utter bottom-feeders.
They had likely sneaked over to gloat at how low he had fallen.
Ryan thought to go down and confront the two scoundrels, but he hesitated.
His appearance was wretched enough to give them exactly the pathetic spectacle they wanted.
“Isn't he shut up in that tiny outbuilding at the far edge instead of this one? The man is as good as dead anyway.”
“Khehehe. Still, he’s a duke’s son.”
“What duke’s son? The succession has entirely passed to Duran Soltaire. They don't even share the same mother, and he was kicked out of the Military Academy in disgrace. He's nothing but an empty shell.”
‘Useless knights and servants. Why aren't you doing your jobs instead of letting riffraff wander wherever they please?’
He could not leave this be.
He had to call for Paul and have them thrown out at once.
Just as he moved to do so—
“Who are you to stand before this annex?”
Anasta Winterlit appeared in the nick of time.
‘Why now?’
There was still plenty of time before the banquet ended.
Ryan watched as Anasta squared off against the two men.
She was stunningly adorned, looking far more radiant than she had that morning.
The two men seemed to think so as well, their mouths falling open, their mocking remarks about Ryan instantly forgotten.
“E-Excuse us, my lady.”
“The banquet is being held in the main mansion. If you have lost your way, the maid will escort you.”
Anasta gestured with a glance toward the maid beside her.
“No, it isn't that. We're friends of Ryan Soltaire. We were his classmates at the Military Academy.”
“Sir Ryan’s?”
“Yes.”
The two men answered while openly ogling Anasta’s beauty.
“In any case, up close, you truly are breathtaking.”
They did not stop there, attempting to engage her in conversation by any means.
Ryan smiled bitterly as he watched the scene unfold.
Uncrossing his arms, he grabbed the finest coat in the room and threw it over his shoulders.
“Young Master, where are you going?”
“To chase away the rats outside.”
“Pardon?”
As he rushed down the stairs, Anasta's voice carried to his ears.
“Pardon me, but Sir Ryan is waiting for me. The maid will guide you back to the main mansion.”
“Is Ryan Soltaire truly inside?”
Ryan paused just before reaching the door.
“Didn’t we tell you? We were his classmates. We were worried since he hasn’t shown his face once since falling ill. How is he doing? Rumor has it his sickness has taken a grave turn.”
“Yes, he is quite well.”
“Then why has he never appeared? He didn't even attend the banquet you're at.”
The classmate feigned concern while slipping in a barbed slight against Ryan.
“He has his own circumstances—”
“And what circumstances might those be? Surely he hasn't abandoned his fiancée to fend for herself simply because he's unwell? He was once such a dutiful cadet. How terribly disappointing.”
· · ·
“Claiming he’s well must be a lie, too. I can tell from your face. Since you haven't officially become a Soltaire yet, take some advice: Ryan Soltaire is no good man, Lady.”
“Do you know Sir Ryan better than I do?”
At that, the two men faltered, thrown off by the sharp, unyielding tone that cut them short.
“No, w-we aren't strangers to him.”
“Then how can you speak of Sir Ryan in such a manner? Could it be that you behaved with such insolence before him as well?”
“What?”
“Because otherwise, you would have no right to pass judgment on Sir Ryan like this.”
Once the two men caught her meaning, their expressions hardened into a menacing scowl.
“Lady, we didn't take you for someone like this. Do you even know who we are?”
Right as their hostility flared toward Anasta—
“I don't know you.”
Startled, the two men whipped their heads around in stunned confusion.
There stood Ryan, leaning casually against the doorway, glaring down at them with piercing eyes.
Though his frame was far leaner than in his academy days, his tall silhouette and jet-black hair fluttering in the breeze commanded a striking, undeniable presence.
“R-Ryan Soltaire.”
“So you do know me.”
A corner of Ryan's mouth curled upward as he stepped closer.
“Unfortunately, I don't know you. You claim to be my classmates, but your faces ring no bells whatsoever.”
· · ·
“Who do you think you are to trespass outside my private quarters, and dare harass my fiancée on top of it?”
Ryan stepped up beside Anasta, fixing the two men with a chilling glare.
The men were struck utterly speechless.
Rumors had claimed Ryan Soltaire was bedridden, confined to his annex and unable to even stand.
Yet the man standing before them still exuded an imposing, sharp dignity that could not be taken lightly.
“Speak. Who are you?”
Cowering under his gaze, the two men cleared their throats, scrambling to save face.
“Ahem, we were just classmates. We'll take our leave now.”
“I trust you won't show yourselves here again.”
Ryan did not let them depart in peace, delivering a parting warning.
“Get lost this instant.”
Terrified by his hostile, menacing tone and desperate to avoid a scene, the two men scrambled away.
‘Pathetic scum, through and through.’
Ryan swept back the hair falling over his forehead and let out a long, heated exhale. Then, he turned his gaze to Anasta.
END
