After leaving, Lucas did not return to his own residence. Instead, he went directly to Lady Lian’s house.

When the door opened, the woman was inside mending her precious orchids. The moment she saw the frighteningly dark expression upon his face, the tiny shovel nearly slipped from her hands.

"Lucas? What is the matter—"

The man stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a loud thud.

Lady Lian froze. "Lucas... what are you—"

"Godmother." Lucas looked at her steadily, his voice far harsher than usual. "Why did you not tell me the truth about Caelith?"

The color drained instantly from Lady Lian’s face. "What... what is it that you know?"

"I investigated it myself," Lucas replied coldly. "Did you truly believe that sending her into the Imperial Prison would leave no trace behind? I merely called upon a few connections and uncovered everything. If word of this were ever to spread beyond these walls, do you understand what consequences would follow?"

Florentine’s knees gave out beneath her. She collapsed heavily into the chair, her face drained of color.

"Lucas, I..."

"Godmother." He stepped before her and slowly crouched down, his dark eyes fixed on hers. "Tell me the truth. What truly happened?"

Lady Lian looked at him, her eyes already reddening with unshed tears.

"Lucas... this matter... I cannot speak of it. I gave my word."

He studied her in silence, a deep frown cutting between his eyes.

"Caelith already told me part of it. Osvald Grandien is her uncle. But Rhaegar returned unexpectedly before she could say anything else."

Lady Lian froze. "So... She... she told you?"

Lucas nodded once.

The room fell into a suffocating silence.

At last, Lady Lian lowered her gaze and slowly told him everything.

About the Grandien family.

About Ayana.

About the hidden box.

About Osvald.

Each word weighed heavier than the last, unveiling a complicated web of history.

As Lucas listened, the expression on his face darkened little by little, until the warmth had vanished entirely from his features.

When she finally finished, he rose to his feet and walked several steps away, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

"Godmother."

Lady Lian lifted her head and wiped another tear from her cheek.

"From this day onward, this matter dies with us. You will bury it in your stomach and never speak of it again."

She stared at him blankly. "Lucas... How can––?"

"I know you acted for Caelith’s sake," he said quietly, though the edge in his voice remained sharp as drawn steel. "But such a thing must never happen a second time."

Florentine nodded, agreeing right away. "I understand."

Lucas looked at her for a long moment, still mulling over what to do next.

"From now on, anything concerning Miss Emberlyn will be handled by me."

Lady Lian widened her eyes, surprised. "Lucas... why are you doing this?"

"She once saved my father’s life," he interrupted. "I can’t be with her the way I want to, but... At least I can help her in secret."

Lady Lian looked at him silently, her lips parting as though she wished to say something more. But she understood in her heart that it was not solely because of that.

Yet Lucas had no intention of continuing the conversation. He turned to leave.

At that very moment, the door suddenly swung open.

Nareen poked half her head inside, a mischievous grin dancing across her face.

"Lucas, Mother, what secret are you two whispering about behind closed doors? Did I frighten—"

Her words cut off abruptly. Lucas stood by the doorway, his face colder than winter frost.

Nareen had never seen him look at anyone with such icy indifference.

"Lucas..."

He did not even spare her a glance. As he stepped past the threshold, his footsteps paused briefly.

"Godmother," he said without turning back, "your daughter is acting out of line again. This is not the way to bring up a proper lady."

And just like that, he left, leaving an overwhelming tension behind.

Nareen remained frozen where she stood, her eyes reddening instantly.

"Mother... Lucas, he..."

Lady Lian looked at her daughter, anger and heartache tangling together in her chest.

"Nareen. Come here."

The young woman walked over obediently. Lady Lian sighed softly as she looked at her.

"In the future, remember to knock before entering. And do not pry into other people’s conversations. Especially the ones involving noble gentlemen."

Nareen lowered her head. "I understand... I am sorry."

Florentine reached out and gently stroked her hair. "And one more thing..."

Nareen nodded. Lady Lian’s eyes narrowed, heavy with emotions she could not voice.

"Stop thinking about Lucas."

Nareenfroze. "Mother..."

"You are not suited for one another," Lady Lian said firmly. "Listen to me. I know what I’m talking about."

Tears welled in Nareen’s eyes. She had never expected her mother to turn on her like that.

"Why? I’ve loved him since I was little. Didn’t you always approve of us being together?"

"Love alone is useless." The woman’s tone hardened. "His heart already belongs to someone else. A proper lady does not chase after a man."

Nareen stared at her in disbelief. "Someone else? Who?"

Lady Lian said nothing, while Nareen searched her mother’s expression, and tears finally spilled down her cheeks.

"Is it Lady Caelith?"

Her tears flowed even harder after speaking the name aloud. Then she turned and ran from the room, devastated and heartbroken.

Lady Lian stood there in silence, staring at the violently shaking door long after it slammed shut behind her, before releasing a weary sigh.

***

Three days later.

Caelith once again stood before the gates of the Imperial Prison, but this time, she had not disguised herself as a servant delivering food.

This time, everything had been arranged by Lucas himself.

His influence stretched far beyond Lady Lian’s can. The bribes had been placed carefully, every path prepared in advance. A low-ranking jailer accepted the silver quietly and handed Caelith a prison guard’s uniform, instructing her to lower her head and follow behind him without drawing attention.

"You have a quarter of an hour," the jailer muttered. "Not a moment more."

Caelith nodded.

As she stepped once more into that dark and freezing corridor, the thick scent of blood still lingered heavily in the air. Yet this time, she was not as afraid as before.

Osvald remained inside the same cell, curled upon a pile of filthy straw, motionless as though half-dead.

Caelith’s heart clenched painfully as she saw his worsened state. She hurried forward.

"Uncle?"

Osvald stirred faintly before slowly lifting his head. The instant he saw her, a dim light flickered in his exhausted eyes.

"You came..."

Caelith knelt beside him and clasped his hands tightly in hers. They were still so terribly cold.

"How are you now?"

Osvald forced out a faint smile. "I’m still alive. Though I am praying to God to take me sooner."

The words nearly shattered her composure. Caelith hurriedly pulled out a small bundle from inside her uniform and unfolded it. Inside were several delicate pastries and a small flask of wine.

"I brought you something to eat. Here, take it."

Osvald stared at the food, his eyes reddening instantly.

"Young lady..."

"Hurry and eat." Caelith raised one of the pastries to his lips. "We only have a quarter of an hour. I need to take the remnants with me."

He nodded and took the pastry from her hands, devouring it ravenously like a starving man.

Watching him eat in such desperation felt like knives twisting through her heart.

Halfway through, Osvald suddenly stopped and lifted his eyes to her.

"Young lady..."

"Yes?"

"Don’t... come here again."