The carriage that had been running nonstop arrived at the baroness’s estate just as the first blush of dawn painted the sky. The journey had been relentless, the horses’ hooves beating a steady rhythm against the earth as if marking time itself.
As they passed through the imposing iron gates, a winding road unfurled before them like a delicate thread against the barren landscape. Shailoh, her curious eyes drinking in every detail through the window, turned to address the baroness who had stirred from her slumber.
“Madam, this place seems like a wasteland. There’s nothing here,” she remarked, her voice tinged with wonder rather than disappointment.
“It may appear barren, but appearances can be deceptive. Rabbits and deer make their home in this wilderness. And in spring—quite surprisingly—heather bushes burst into bloom, and colorful periwinkle flowers emerge from the earth like secrets finally revealed,” the baroness replied, her lips curving into a gentle smile as if she were conjuring the hidden beauty of the land from memory. “And there’s a small lake behind the mansion. Almond trees bloom there; I think you’ll come to cherish it in time,” she added, her words weaving a tapestry of promise.
“I’m already beginning to like it,” Shailoh confessed.
She placed her hands against the cool glass of the window and rested her chin upon them, her gaze sweeping slowly across the vast expanse of land. Though it appeared desolate to the untrained eye, she could sense the dynamic energy slumbering beneath the earth—life poised to burst forth with tender shoots and flower stalks, hidden beneath the soil like secrets waiting to be told. The thought of blossoms emerging after enduring the harsh winter filled her with quiet anticipation, a feeling not unlike hope.
The carriage soon drew up before the mansion, its wheels crunching on the gravel drive.
“It can’t compare to the duke’s residence,” the baroness commented.
“It’s okay. It’s smaller, but it possesses its own particular charm. There’s something about it—as if a fairy might appear at any moment,” Shailoh replied.
The baroness’s residence was a four-story, elegant stone edifice with clean, simple lines, lacking any separate annex that might have detracted from its understated grace.
“You have such a way with words. I remember now why you caught my eye at my niece’s birthday,” the baroness remarked with a soft chuckle as she led Shailoh inside.
Shailoh, momentarily entranced by the cascade of ivy that adorned the mansion’s weathered walls like nature’s own tapestry, followed a heartbeat later.
“You must be weary from the journey; let’s wash up and have dinner first. I’ll show you around the mansion afterward,” the baroness suggested, her consideration evident in her tone.
“Yes,” Shailoh agreed simply.
“Oh, Shailoh?” The baroness, who had been about to introduce her young charge to the assembled staff—butler, maids, and servants—suddenly halted. She grasped Shailoh’s shoulder, her expression shifting to one of unexpected gravity as she issued a warning. “You may go anywhere you wish, but I must ask that you don’t venture to the fourth floor until the day after tomorrow. A very important guest is staying there.”
“An important guest?” Shailoh echoed, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
“Yes. Someone of such that I can’t say their identity carelessly,” the baroness explained, her voice dropping to ensure privacy.
“Ah…” Shailoh murmured, questions forming in her mind.
“Can you promise me that?” the baroness pressed, her fingers still resting on Shailoh’s shoulder.
“Yes, I promise,” Shailoh nodded earnestly. Though she didn’t understand the reason for such secrecy, it wasn’t a difficult request to honor. She nodded several times in reassurance and only then did the baroness release her, visibly relieved.
* * *
Even by the time dinner concluded, the mysterious guest had not made an appearance. The baroness, who did not typically partake in evening meals, assured Shailoh not to concern herself with the matter, but as is often the case with forbidden things, the more she was instructed not to dwell on it, the more her curiosity flourished. She wondered who this guest sequestered on the fourth floor might be, but Shailoh endeavored to direct her thoughts elsewhere.
It had been a day of tumult and change. Her mind, despite the physical fatigue of travel, remained restless, and sleep eluded her, compelling her to rise as the first hint of dawn crept across the horizon.
“I can’t sleep…” she whispered to the silent room.
Though she had left the duke’s residence behind, the unfamiliarity of her surroundings made peaceful slumber an impossibility. After staring at the unknown ceiling in the darkness for what seemed an eternity, she abruptly sat upright.
“Come to think of it, there’s a lake, isn’t there?” she recalled the baroness’s words from earlier.
Her hesitation was fleeting. Shailoh swiftly left the confines of the mansion and made her way toward the lake. The late winter air was biting, turning her breath to visible mist before her eyes. Unlike the stark, barren expanse at the front of the baroness’s residence, the rear of the mansion gave way to a dense forest of coniferous trees, their evergreen boughs standing sentinel against the cold.
“Ugh, it’s cold,” she muttered, drawing her shawl more tightly around her pajama-clad form. The winter air was so crisp it seemed to crystallize her every breath.
Shailoh, who had ventured out in her nightclothes with only a thick shawl for protection, cautiously dipped her toes into the lake, only to withdraw them immediately. The water was so frigid it sent a shiver coursing through her body, dispelling any lingering drowsiness, yet she felt no regret for her impulsive excursion.
As dawn broke over the landscape, mist hung in layers like diaphanous curtains, and the light purple twilight cast an ethereal glow over the transparent waters of the lake, transforming it into something from a half-remembered dream.
The sight of the lake stirred within her an inexplicable impulse to wash her face in its waters. An unfounded belief took hold—that the icy water might somehow clear her mind and wash away the tangle of thoughts that prevented her rest.
Shailoh knelt at the water’s edge, stretching her slender arms forward to cup the frigid lake water in her palms. As she splashed it against her face, the shock of cold sent tremors through her body and forced her eyes wide open. She leaned further over the glassy surface, mesmerized by its crystalline depths. It was only when the precarious tilt of her body registered that she realized she had lost her balance, her form already pitching forward toward the unforgiving waters.
“Ah!” The sound escaped her lips, more a gasp than a scream, as gravity claimed her.
Before she could plunge into the icy embrace of the lake, a firm hand grasped her waist and pulled her back with decisive strength. Death had merely brushed past her, a fleeting shadow in the mist. As her vision tilted and righted itself, the back of her head came to rest against a solid chest, warm and reassuring against the morning chill.
She was alive. Her heart thundered within her ribcage, its rhythm so powerful it seemed to echo in her ears like distant drums. As the initial shock subsided, she became aware of warm breath ghosting near her ear, a stark contrast to the biting air.
Shailoh, regaining her composure, quickly extricated herself from her savior’s grasp and rose to her feet. “T-Thank y—”
“I thought you were a Nereid, but I suppose not.” The voice that responded was deep and resonant, like the echo in a forgotten cave, seeming to descend upon her from above.
Shailoh straightened her back and turned to face her rescuer. Her eyes widened in undisguised wonder. His platinum hair appeared to dissolve into the dawn mist that hung about them, while his turquoise eyes reflected the verdant fir forest beyond. He was a young man; the softness of boyhood had not yet entirely vanished from his features, yet his tone carried the weight and authority of someone who had witnessed far more years than his appearance suggested, creating an aura of compelling mystery.
“Are you, by any chance…” Shailoh blinked in astonishment, her lips parting cautiously as she formed the question. “The baroness’s guest?”
The man inclined his head in silent affirmation as he rose to his full height. “That’s right. It seems the madam has mentioned me,” he remarked, his voice dropping to a curiously low timbre.
Shailoh hastened to clarify. “She didn’t tell me your name. She merely said a distinguished guest was staying and that I shouldn’t venture to the fourth floor. Ah, my name is Shailoh.”
“Shailoh,” the man repeated as if testing the weight of her name upon his tongue before continuing. “Since you’ve entrusted me with your name, I suppose I should offer mine in return. I am—”
“You needn’t tell me, Sir,” Shailoh interjected, unwilling to place either the baroness or this enigmatic stranger in an awkward position. She bowed her head once more in gratitude. “Thank you for saving me earlier.”
“You weren’t attempting to end your life, were you?” His question fell between them like a stone, sharp and unexpected.
Shailoh, startled by the implication, shook her head with vehemence. “I swear, no. Truly.”
The hue of his eyes darkened perceptibly as Shailoh, avoiding his penetrating gaze, added in a hushed voice, “I was feeling somewhat melancholy, but I harbored no such thoughts. It’s simply that I couldn’t find rest in these unfamiliar surroundings. I felt restless, so I sought solace on a walk.”
The man shrugged his shoulders with elegant nonchalance and settled himself by the lakeside. Shailoh, maintaining a respectful distance, seated herself beside him and, prompted by curiosity, ventured another question.
“Then why are you here by the lake at this hour, Sir?”
Rather than answering directly, the man selected a smooth stone from the shore and cast it across the lake’s surface. It skipped several times, creating concentric ripples that expanded outward before the stone finally surrendered to the depths. After a moment of contemplative silence, he spoke, his words heavy with unspoken emotion.
“I was born the second son of a prestigious family.”
Shailoh listened attentively to his measured introduction. In a steady voice that belied the gravity of his tale, he continued.
“My father held a position of considerable influence in the empire, and besides my mother, he kept a concubine. The son born of this concubine and I, along with my older brother, were raised together. Then, one day, my older brother perished in an unexpected accident. Shortly thereafter, my mother also departed this world as if following him into the beyond. It turned out it was all the doing of that ‘kind’ concubine who had always acted sweet and polite to us.”
Something in his narrative resonated with her own circumstances, and Shailoh studied the man’s sculpted profile with growing interest.
“The concubine took my mother’s place and plotted ceaselessly to establish her son as the heir. She made clandestine attempts on my life and rendered my father bedridden with illness.”
“Goodness! How could such a wicked woman exist?” Shailoh exclaimed, rising to her feet in indignation before she realized she had moved. The man responded with nothing more than a bitter smile.
“I had no recourse but to seek sanctuary with my mother’s family abroad.”
“Then this place…?”
“The baroness was an old friend of my mother’s, so I’ve taken temporary refuge here.”
Though his tone remained even, the circumstances he described struck a profound chord within her, sending a sympathetic shiver through her heart. Shailoh, resuming her seat, offered words of consolation.
“Then you must gather your strength and return home,” Shailoh urged, her voice carrying across the misty lake. “You should reclaim your rightful place and confidently succeed your father.”
The man’s gaze remained fixed on the glassy surface of the water, his reflection fragmenting with each gentle ripple. “Is there a need for that? The more I struggle, the more those around me get hurt. My stepmother only wants one thing—to see me gone.”
“That!” Shailoh exclaimed, her voice rising unbidden, echoing across the still morning air. The passion in her tone surprised even herself, but she pressed on, unwilling to let him surrender to such melancholy. “Would your mother want that? If you throw your life away and meet her again, would she be happy?”
The turquoise eyes that had been contemplating the depths of the lake slowly turned toward her, their color shifting like the water itself—mysterious and fathomless.
Shailoh clenched her fists, the cold morning air biting at her knuckles as she did so. “I lost my real mother too,” she confessed, the words emerging from a place deep within her that she rarely exposed. “She passed away when I was young. My mother raised me alone. Then she fell ill and passed away early.”
As she spoke, a face she had momentarily forgotten during eight years of overwhelming happiness resurfaced in her memory. The recollection made her chest tighten with an exquisite pain, and her eyes welled with tears that caught the first golden rays of the morning sun.
