Deon didn’t need a system panel to tell him that.

The young man walked with pride, that much was clear...maybe a bit too much of it in fact. His dark blue hair was slightly damp from the rain, parted down the middle, and falling across his forehead in loose strands.

He looks angry. No, maybe that’s not the right word...Frustrated, perhaps?

The attendants led Rosaline and the heir toward the same pavilion. Umbrellas bloomed around them like black flowers, shielding the two nobles from the rain.

Why the hell would you meet in the pavilion out in this rain?

Regardless, Deon followed right after them.

Rosaline sat first. Even in the middle of the storm, her movements were elegant. One hand gathered the edge of her dress, while the other rested against the chair’s arm as she lowered herself.

The heir remained standing.

"Leo," Rosaline said softly.

Leo Velvet, huh? He’ll definitely be important.

The heir stood silent for a while before his lips finally moved. "You’re going to defend him again, aren’t you?"

Rosaline’s fingers tightened over her cane. "Your father is ill. What can I do?"

"Father is gone more often than he is home."

For a few seconds, Leo’s mouth moved, but the sound disappeared beneath static. Deon stepped closer to the pavilion, trying to hear through the distortion.

"...keeps saying..." Leo’s voice cut back in. "He keeps saying he has found someone who can treat him."

"So why does he look worse every time he returns?"

Deon narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t sure how the timeline was connected, but this was definitely after the sixth letter...when Marcel had already accepted the deal.

"Those people are not doctors," the heir continued furiously. "It’s always miracle this, miracle that...but when does it actually happen?!"

Throughout all this, Rosaline had chosen to remain silent, simply sipping on the tea in front of her.

Deon’s eyes widened. "Maybe that’s her favorite tea...!"

He got closer, trying to get a big whiff. He was no expert on tea, but Deon was sure he would be able to recreate it. Yet when he tried, his senses seemed to be dulled, like being on a plane at high altitudes.

"Damn it..."

The heir kept ranting for a while longer, yet he couldn’t hear a single word from the distortion.

It’s worse than I thought...shit, should I have waited and used [Playback] when it was fully recharged?

But the connection finally came back.

"He believes them," the Lady said softly.

"That’s exactly why someone else has to stop him."

"Someone else?"

"Mother! Please talk some sense into him! At this rate, he’s gonna—"

"You think I have not tried?!" Rosaline lashed out, slamming the table and cutting him off.

The heir flinched, completely caught off guard by her action.

"You think I have not stood outside his office while he locked the door? You think I have not asked where he goes? Who he meets?"

She opened her mouth once more, but when she saw the horrified look on Leo’s face, she stopped and slowly leaned back on her chair.

"Marcel stopped listening to me long ago."

Yet the heir didn’t give up, managing to calm himself. "Then please, make him listen."

"Ha!" she laughed.

It wasn’t a beautiful one. It was short and bitter, laced with helplessness. "With what power, Leo?"

Rosaline lifted one gloved hand and gestured faintly at the insignia pinned to Leo’s chest. "I am the Lady of the Velvet House. It sounds like an important title, one that would be deserving of respect..."

But when she looked back at the heir, a piece of her broke along with her voice. "I am a trophy wife, Leo. Nothing more."

"..."

For a moment, Deon thought the heir would keep arguing. His jaw tightened, fingers curling at his side. The frustration on his face was evident, but something seemed to give out, and Deon wagered it was hope.

"...Fine."

He stepped back out into the rain. One of the attendants tried to put an umbrella over him, but he simply motioned her away.

"If that is what you want to believe, then I won’t waste my breath convincing you otherwise."

"Leo."

"No," he cut her off, voice flat now. "You’re right. Nobody does anything in this house. Father doesn’t listen and you clearly don’t care."

"I’ll take it into my own hands," he said softly, voice almost drowned by the rain. "So you can sit here and drown in hedony all you like, Mother."

After that, he simply turned and walked back to where they had come from. Rosaline seemed like she wanted to call him again, but did not.

And the garden...fell quiet.

The Lady reached for her teacup, but her hands trembled so much that she spilled most of it on the floor. Even the servants seemed like they wanted to say something but kept their mouths shut.

She poured herself another after finishing her first, and another one after that, almost like it was her own form of alcohol. There was no enjoyment in the way she drank—simply lifting the cup, swallowing, lowering, and pouring again.

"...What a mess," Deon muttered. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

But just as he was about to turn, a distant noise managed to catch his attention even through the rain.

A boy stood at the entrance of the garden, half-hidden behind one of the attendants. He clutched a stuffed bear against his chest with both arms, speaking to the attendant by his side.

Elliot...?

The attendant crouched, saying something Deon couldn’t hear through the distortion. Probably trying to convince him to go back inside.

But Elliot only shook his head, gaze fixed on his mother. After a brief hesitation, the attendant opened an umbrella above him and slowly guided him down the path.

Rosaline did not notice him until he spoke first. "Mother?"

Rosaline froze, finding whatever composure she still had left within her to straighten and look at him. "Elliot, why are you outside?"

Yet the youngest simply dodged her question, glancing at the opposite chair.

"Can I sit with you?"