“Ah….”

Only then did a soft exclamation escape Eva’s lips. So this man meant they should go to the Moonlight Garden of Veil Castle. It was a fragment of memory she had spoken of without expectation, yet he had not dismissed it—he intended to show it to her. Not for her sake, but even so, he had offered it for himself, and still included her in it.

At his tempting proposal, Eva’s heart began to pound heavily. It was a place she had always longed for but never dared to visit. As time passed, it had grown so distant that even in dreams it felt unreachable, and waking from those dreams only left her clutching her chest in longing.

Can I really go there?

A warning bell rang inside her mind. Considering the distance, she would not be able to stay long. If she returned late, Pamela and Lady Beattie would surely scold her loudly. Above all, traveling alone with this man to another place made her uneasy.

And yet, the anticipation of seeing the Moonlight Garden overwhelmed all of that.

“Just… don’t be too late.”

As if under a spell, Eva spoke in a trembling voice and grasped his hand.

“Don’t worry.”

With a reassuring reply, her body was gently pulled and seated behind his back. “Ah!” she let out a short gasp and instinctively steadied herself, holding onto his waist.

“The night wind is cold.”

So she should not face it head-on, but hide behind him. His slightly awkward smile and words revealed why he had placed her there.

Once again, a strange warmth stirred in her chest.

Ruth rode forward through the darkness like an arrow released from a bow. They left the baron’s estate, crossed open fields, circled the outskirts of the city, and crossed the Veil River. Eva felt nothing unusual until they reached the cypress-lined road at the entrance of Veil Castle—the place where her father had left and where she herself had departed from. A sharp ache struck her chest. Feeling her eyes grow hot, she unknowingly pressed her forehead against Ruth’s back.

“Holland Count really is something. It seems he’s completely taken with you.”

Lady Beattie, visibly excited, spoke while sitting on the couch in the reception room, looking at Pamela. She had slipped in while Count Holland was briefly away. She had intentionally left Pamela and the Count alone, and every time she glanced in, the atmosphere between them seemed favorable. Naturally, she was burning with curiosity—what they had talked about, how far their feelings had developed, and when they would meet again.

“He’s polite and kind… but a little…”

“A little what?”

Lady Beattie hurriedly leaned closer.

“No, it’s nothing. He is a good person. He treats me well.”

Pamela brushed it off, but something still bothered her. Although Count Holland was kind, he kept a certain distance. When asked about her impression, he gave only formal answers. When she subtly asked about their next meeting, he avoided the topic. What bothered her most was that he kept asking about Eva. It didn’t seem like romantic interest, but it irritated her and hurt her pride.

Even though Pamela was the daughter of a rural lower noble family, she was known as the most beautiful woman in Croxfield. Most men fell at her feet, yet the two men who interested her kept their distance. It was infuriating.

“You must do well. The rise and fall of our family depends on you. Understand?”

“I understand, so tell the rest of the family to keep quiet. It’s embarrassing.”

Pamela’s voice turned cold instantly. She intended to seduce Count Holland herself anyway—she was tired of living as a minor noble stuck in a rural corner.

A baronet, not even a baron. A title barely granted by the Imperial Court thanks to Marquis Macy’s recommendation. Even that would not be inherited after her father’s death. Without marrying a noble heir soon, she could fall back into common status. On top of that, there was no wealth—only growing debt. Everything around her was unbearable.

“Fine, fine. Anyway, Eva went out to spend time with Lord Ruth?”

Lady Beattie asked cautiously. At the mention of Eva, Pamela’s expression immediately soured. She still gritted her teeth remembering what had happened with the bracelet, but she could not admit it. Her daughter would either blame her for her incompetence or mock her for losing to that girl. Pamela’s pride would not allow it.

“Yes. So don’t go looking for her.”

“Still, I’m a little worried. What if something happens between those two…”

“That won’t happen. She knows her place.”

Pamela’s voice sharpened, as if cutting off her mother’s worry. She was not concerned about Eva seducing Lord Ruth. Pamela had already declared she would seduce him herself—Eva would not dare aim for him.

“People are unpredictable. What if she tries to seduce him to escape her situation? And Lord Ruth seems unusually attentive to Eva.”

“He just feels sorry for her.”

Pamela shot back immediately. That was also the answer she had been trying to convince herself of.

Although seducing Count Holland was her priority, she had not lost interest in Lord Ruth. In fact, his lack of interest in her only stirred a strange excitement within her.

Though she did not know his identity in detail, he was clearly no ordinary man. Being part of the Imperial Knights already meant a high rank, and if he belonged to the Royal Knights, his status would rival or exceed a baronet. Above all, his presence and appearance exceeded all expectations. If not for his background, he would stand out far more than Count Holland.

His attention toward Eva irritated Pamela. So she secretly observed the two of them. But no matter how she looked, she could not find any reason for his interest in Eva.

Eva was beautiful, but not comparable to Pamela. They had only just met, so it was unlikely he was drawn to her personality. They had no shared interests either.

So there was only one explanation: pity. A ruined noble’s daughter, trembling as if drowning, always sitting quietly in a corner—it must have triggered his sense of chivalry.

“Still, don’t trust Eva too much.”

“Please stop and leave. I’ll handle everything myself.”

Pamela turned away coldly from her mother. She found her concern irritating rather than comforting.

Authority, title, money—her parents had given her none of it, yet still acted as if they had the right to advise her. They had once forced Eva to bow her head.

“Eva is a noble young lady living here. You must serve her respectfully so your father can receive a noble title.”

The day she first arrived at Veil Castle, her father led her there. The overwhelming castle, the divine-like interiors, the luxuries she had never seen before—all of it crushed her self-esteem.

“Hello, Lady Eva.”

Eva, with her golden hair neatly braided and dressed in expensive clothes, holding a beautiful doll. Pamela bowed first, hiding her jealousy deeply, lowering her head and bending her knees.

“It’s fine. Call me Eva, Pamela.”

Only after Eva’s command did she gain the right to be her friend.

That memory must have settled deep within her. Even after her father became a baronet, Pamela always felt strange when dealing with Eva. It was not only Eva.

Eva was always treated with respect. The servants of Veil Castle carried themselves proudly, almost like nobles. Even though Pamela was a noble’s daughter, she felt intimidated around them. Yet they treated Eva with warmth and admiration.

It was unfair. She was no less than Eva—yet only birth determined everything. That was why Pamela both liked and hated Eva.

Her jealousy grew until it turned into resentment. Then Eva’s family fell. Pamela remembered crying more than ever that day.

Because she was happy.

Happy that Eva had fallen to her level, and that she no longer had to hate her. Eva must not rise higher than her again, nor be happier than her. Only then could they remain friends.

“…Excuse me.”

As her thoughts ended, a soft voice came from the entrance of the reception room. A maid, Rosy, stood hesitantly with her hands clasped.

“What is it, Rosy?”

Lady Beattie frowned.

“I have something to report, Madam… and Lady Pamela.”

Rosy stepped forward cautiously, her face pale and trembling. She glanced between the empty seat of Count Holland and the door, clearly unsettled.

“What is it?”

Pamela asked coldly, sensing trouble.

“It’s about Lord Ruth…”

“Lord Ruth? What about him?”

“Well… it seems Lord Ruth may not actually be a knight.”

Rosy’s face twisted as if she were about to cry.