“Calm down, Sasha.”
“They tried to sell me to the Grid Merchant Guild! And when that went sideways, they accused me of being the murderer. How can they live so shamelessly and confidently?”
Her hands trembled, and a chill swept over her whole body as if she were overtaken by a cold. Her chest burned as if aflame, but her hands and feet grew cold. Eventually, her anger was directed at the person closest to her.
“And you think there’s nothing to worry about? How is this not worth worrying about?”
“Sasha.”
“Claire got married. To a rich man, no less! She recognized me. At this rate, I could be executed before I even achieve my goal! And you say there’s nothing to worry about?”
In her urge to lash out at anything, Shailoh grabbed the collar of his neatly ironed shirt.
It was then that Caleb, with a cold smile, asked back. “On what basis?”
“What?”
“The missing murder suspect three years ago and the newly debuted singer, Sasha Griche. What do they have in common? At best, similar hair and eye color.” Caleb’s face moved closer until his breath ghosted across her skin. Those teal eyes bored into her like he was trying to brainwash her thoughts. “You lived as a lad for eight years and rarely left the estate. Except for very close relatives, hardly anyone has seen you. Who would remember a woman who showed her face just once, at Claire’s birthday party three years ago?”
“…”
“The one who should be sweating bullets right now isn’t you—it’s Claire. The person who took all the blame, thought to be dead, has come back and is now standing boldly in front of everyone. She must be anxious and nervous about what you’re up to. In the midst of her happy marriage, no less.”
“Happy… marriage.”
Like a bucket of cold water poured over her head, Shailoh’s agitation instantly subsided. At the same time, a vague sense of what she should do next started to take shape before her eyes.
“Feeling better now?”
“I’m sorry I took it out on you.”
“You can take it out on me anytime, Sasha.” The tension dissolved. Caleb pressed his lips to her forehead and traced her cheek with his thumb.
Heat flooded Shailoh’s face as the memory of what had just happened crashed over her. That kiss. Three years of careful boundaries, of stolen glances and almost-touches, and he’d shattered it all in one moment. He’d been affectionate before—gentle touches, soft looks—but never like this. Never with such raw hunger. And it had been her first.
“Since the reception’s been canceled, there’s somewhere I want to take you.”
As Shailoh’s face turned bright red like a ripe apple with a mix of embarrassment, excitement, and anticipation, Caleb straightened his coat and stood up. Shailoh stood as well, tilting her head in confusion. “Where?”
“Aren’t you hungry? Let me treat you to dinner.” His smile was soft as he traced the bridge of her nose with one finger. “Meet me at the back door through the staff passage in twenty minutes. I’ll be waiting.”
* * *
True to his word, a carriage waited by the back door when she slipped through the staff passage. The coachman, sharp in his black uniform, opened the door and bowed the moment he spotted her.
“You’ve arrived, Milady. I’ve been waiting.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see when we get there. Keep the curtains drawn, just to be safe.” The coachman’s smile was professional as he helped her into the carriage without bothering with the step.
The horses picked up their pace, carrying them away from the theater’s chaos. Shailoh’s heart hammered against her ribs. Her fingers found the fabric of her dress and held on. They left the city center behind, following a narrow road that seemed to lead nowhere. Finally, the carriage slowed in front of a small mansion tucked away from the world.
“This is it.”
She had expected a fancy restaurant filled with people, but it was quite the opposite. Taking a deep breath, Shailoh got off the carriage with the coachman’s help.
“Just go up and knock on the door.”
“Alright. Thank you.”
The coachman simply nodded and drove the carriage away. Shailoh watched until the carriage disappeared, then turned. Her footsteps felt uncertain as she approached the door and knocked twice.
“…What is this?”
There was no response, so as she was about to knock a third time, the door swung open. Warm air and rich, savory scents spilled out to greet her.
Caleb moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, twirling pasta onto a plate and refilling her wine glass. The sight caught her off guard—nobles didn’t usually dirty their hands with cooking. She blinked, watching him work. What surprised her more was how right it looked.
“You… know how to cook?”
“Just for fun. When I have time.”
“I had no idea, even after three years. I didn’t even know you had a place like this.” In disbelief, Shailoh took a bite of pasta. The sauce was perfect—rich and smooth, melting on her tongue.
“This is a place I come to when I want a little break on weekends. You’re the first guest I’ve brought here.”
“Now that I think about it, we’ve only seen each other once a week these past three years. You’d drive me out to the countryside on weekends, saying I needed fresh air. We’d take that little rowboat with the old ferryman, spread a blanket, and eat sandwiches.”
Her walls—the ones she’d built to keep everyone out, to never trust again—began to crack.
Caleb was gentle in ways that caught her off guard. He noticed everything, remembered everything, and cared about everything.
“That’s right. It was interesting and fun to see you, who had lived so long as a noble lady, find joy in the smallest thing.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“Never, Sasha.” He reached out, thumb brushing sauce from the corner of her mouth. Then he served her more from the communal plate, movements fluid and natural.
Shailoh couldn’t believe the way he was caring for her now. It felt like a dream, yet she kept eating. Before the performance, nerves had tied her stomach in knots—she couldn’t even sip water. Now hunger hit her like a wave. She cleaned her plate without realizing it.
Caleb watched her eat with quiet satisfaction, then led her to the living room. The couch was soft leather, worn comfortably. He returned with tea—a proper set, complete with pot and cups, arranged just so.
“I don’t know if I deserve such special treatment.”
“I was hoping you’d say something else.”
Heat crept up her neck. She lifted the cup, breathing in chamomile. “The meal was incredible. Thank you, Caleb.”
“My pleasure. Consider it a small celebration.”
Caleb refilled her empty cup with the teapot and sat beside her. As the chamomile scent faded, the scent of bergamot took its place. It made Shailoh straighten her back and swallow nervously.
“I still can’t believe no one recognized me. All I did was change my name and wear heavier makeup. I didn’t even dye my hair. Though, like you said, I barely showed my face in public.”
“There’s an old story about that.” His smile was soft as he reached for a scone from the side table. “Once upon a time, a crow sat on a branch with a big piece of meat in its beak.”
Shailoh watched, curious, as Caleb spread cream on the scone and cut it into neat pieces. He held one out to her. She reached for it, but her hand froze when he brought it to her lips instead. Her mouth opened instinctively. The scone was plain but warm. He brushed away crumbs with his thumb, then licked them off. Her ears burned.
“A fox saw the crow and called up to it. ‘What beautiful black feathers you have. So regal and clever—you could be king of all birds.’ The crow preened, listening. The fox continued, ‘Your voice must be even more magnificent. Surely it’s grand and majestic.’ The crow, wanting to show off its voice, opened its beak, and the meat fell out. The fox quickly snatched up the fallen meat and dashed away.”
Shailoh quietly mulled over the fable. It might seem random, but Caleb never spoke without purpose. He had a way of teaching lessons through gentle detours, letting meaning unfold slowly.
