After finishing his tea, Lucas rose to take his leave. Yet when he reached the doorway, he paused and looked back once more.

Erian still stood in the courtyard with his back turned, calmly continuing to split firewood beneath the fading evening light.

Lucas watched him for a brief moment before turning away and departing.

Only after the sensation of that gaze disappeared did Erian finally lower the axe in his hands.

He slowly turned around and looked toward the now-closed gate. A faint crease formed between his brows.

* * *

That night, Caelith went once again to the rear courtyard to find him.

Erian sat on the old terrace with a block of wood resting in his hands, carving quietly beneath the silver wash of moonlight.

He is carving again...

Caelith walked up to him, her brows arching slightly as she asked, "What did he say to you earlier today?"

Erian shook his head. "Just small talk."

Caelith carefully assessed his expression. "Did he question you?"

Erian nodded once.

"What did he ask?"

"Who I was. Where I came from before this."

Caelith took a moment to think.

"And what did you tell him?"

"I said nothing."

Moonlight illuminated his face clearly, revealing that same calm, unreadable expression upon youthful features still touched by traces of boyhood.

Yet she knew very well—he understood everything.

"Just avoid him from now on."

Erian finally lifted his gaze toward her. "He has feelings for you, you know."

Caelith froze.

Erian’s expression, on the other hand, remained perfectly calm, as though he were merely stating an ordinary fact.

"The way he looks at you is... wrong."

Caelith sighed and offered him a small nod. "Yes... I know."

. . .

Several days later, Lucas sent another shipment of fabrics to Firefly Pavilion.

The servant delivering the goods explained that the young master had personally selected every bolt himself and had specifically instructed that Miss Caelith receive them in person.

When Caelith unfolded the fabrics, she discovered a letter hidden between the layers of silk.

There was only a single line written upon the paper.

Miss Caelith... do you truly not know how I feel about you?

Her fingers trembled faintly as she read those words. Then, without hesitation, she held the letter above the lamp flame and watched it burn slowly into ash.

She never spoke a single word about it.

But Lucas waited in vain for an answer.

One day.

Two days.

Three.

Gradually, restlessness began consuming him. He stood alone within the alley across from Firefly Pavilion, staring toward its entrance.

Caelith moved in and out of the shop as usual. She spoke gently with customers. Smiled at Yvaine.

Sometimes she would lift her head and glance absently toward the sky above the street.

But never once did she look at him.

Lucas took several steps forward instinctively... Then forced himself back again.

No. This could not continue.

And yet... No matter how hard he tried, he could not stop himself.

Yvaine was the one who noticed him first.

That afternoon, she stepped outside to pour out a basin of water. The moment she lifted her head, she saw a figure standing beneath the opposite wall at the far end of the alley.

The man wore a robe of muted blue and kept his head lowered, making his face difficult to distinguish. But she recognized those clothes immediately.

Yvaine hurried back inside and grabbed Caelith’s sleeve anxiously.

"Sister, Lord Ostenton is outside again!"

Caelith glanced toward the alley, but it was empty.

"There is no one there, Yvaine."

The woman stamped her foot in frustration. "I saw it! It was definitely him!"

Caelith said nothing, but deep down, she knew Yvaine had not mistaken him.

. . .

That evening, Caelith left the embroidery house to purchase a few supplies.

The alleyway was short. Only several more steps and she would reach the main street beyond. She kept her head lowered and walked quickly, hoping to finish her errands and return before dark deepened.

Yet just as she reached the alley entrance, a figure suddenly stepped out from the shadows and blocked her path.

As expected, it was Lucas.

He stood there silently watching her. Lamp light spilled across his face, illuminating those eyes until they seemed unnaturally bright. Yet beneath that brightness lurked something Caelith had never seen in him before.

Something unsettling.

Instinctively, she stepped back half a pace, forcing her voice to a steady tone as she greeted him.

"Good evening, Lord Lucas... What a coincidence to meet you here... is there something you need?"

The man took a step closer. Close enough that she could smell the faint scent of ink and sandalwood lingering upon him.

"Did you read the letter I sent you?" he did not waste time on formalities, pressing straight into the matter that gnawed at him.

Caelith’s heartbeat faltered violently, but the lie came out surprisingly naturally. "What letter? I never received one."

Lucas looked at her steadily. That gaze made a chill crawl slowly across her spine.

"You’re lying to me."

His voice was soft––soft enough to resemble a lover’s whisper––yet every hair upon Caelith’s body rose in alarm.

"I didn’t—"

Before she could finish speaking, another person suddenly stepped between them.

Neither of them even realized that Erian had approached them, but when they did, he already stood between Caelith and Lucas, shielding her behind him as though by instinct alone.

He stared at Lucas coldly, as always, saying nothing. Lucas stared back at him, though his face was more expressive.

Slowly, however, the dangerous emotion within his gaze faded away.

Then, he smiled. The smile remained as gentle as ever, but somehow, beneath the moonlight, it felt colder than before.

"Miss Caelith," he said softly, "it seems there are many loyal people by your side."

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

Caelith remained standing there, her heartbeat still racing violently against her ribs.

Erian finally turned around to look at her.

"Are you alright?"

Caelith nodded her head lightly. But as she stared into the now-empty alleyway, an inexplicable unease slowly spread through her chest.

From that day onward, Lucas no longer appeared so frequently, yet Caelith constantly felt as though someone was still watching her.

Whenever she walked through the streets and suddenly turned around, she would see nothing except ordinary passersby moving along the road.

When she embroidered in the courtyard, she often felt unseen eyes lingering somewhere beyond the window.

Even at night, sleep no longer came easily. Again and again, she would wake with the strange feeling that something stood beyond the courtyard walls, hidden within the darkness.

Erian became increasingly vigilant as well. Every night, he would sit alone in the courtyard for hours without moving. Sometimes, without warning, he would abruptly rise and inspect the walls and shadows surrounding the residence.

Under the moonlight, his shadow stretched long across the ground like a silent sentinel guarding the night.

Several times, he even frightened Yvaine.

One night, she woke and stepped outside half-asleep to fetch water. As she crossed the rear courtyard, she suddenly caught sight of a dark figure flashing across the top of the wall.

She froze instantly.

By the time she reacted, the shadow had already vanished.

Yvaine clapped a hand over her mouth, nearly crying out in terror. She fled back into her room, wrapped herself tightly inside the blankets, and remained awake the entire night.

The next morning, she hurried to tell Caelith everything.

"Sister, I really saw it last night! There was someone on the wall!"

Caelith’s hand paused faintly. "What exactly was it?"

"I couldn’t tell! I only saw a shadow before it disappeared!"

Caelith remained silent for a long while. Then she gently patted Yvaine’s hand.

"Don’t be afraid. Erian is here. Rhaegar will be back soon, too."

Yvaine nodded, but the unease inside her heart refused to settle.

***

That evening, Rhaegar indeed returned.

Lately, official duties had kept him away from the capital, but today he returned unusually early. Caelith was sitting beside the window in silence when he entered.

He walked over and wrapped his arms around her from behind, his voice impatient as he whispered, "What are you thinking about?"

Caelith leaned quietly against his chest, more relieved than happy that he had returned. "I was thinking that I’ve missed you."

Rhaegar lowered his head and inhaled softly against her hair.

"Something’s troubling you?"

There was a strangely long pause before she finally answered. "Rhaegar."

"Mm?"

"If someone kept watching you..." Her voice was soft. "What would you do?"

Rhaegar’s hands paused. Slowly, he turned her face toward him and looked directly into her eyes.

"Who’s watching you?"

Caelith shook her head. "I was only curious."

Rhaegar stared at her for a very long time. Then he pulled her tightly into his embrace.

"Whoever it is..." His voice turned cold and quiet. "If their intentions are ill, then let them die."

Caelith buried her face against his chest and said nothing. Yet the unease inside her heart only grew heavier.