“Philip!”

“Yes, coming,” Philip answered halfheartedly as he lifted himself from the grass where he had been sprawled.

Brilliant blue sky, wispy white clouds spread thin like bird feathers. At the foot of the hill where clusters of dark blue grapes hung heavily under the blazing summer sun, a vineyard stretched out before him.

As Philip took in the now-familiar midsummer landscape of the eastern region, stretching his stiff body, Tom’s booming voice reached his ears once again.

“PHILIP!”

Philip Esmund. The man once known by that name now lived as an ordinary tenant farmer named “Philip,” working as a laborer at a vineyard estate on the eastern coast of the continent.

‘When you disappointed Lord Ishmael, who had invested so much in you and held such high expectations, I believe you must have been prepared for at least this much.’

In a past now so distant he could barely remember it, Philip had been eliminated by Ben. Rebellion required enormous funding, and Philip had received that funding from Ishmael.

It was a deal struck in exchange for handing over part of the territory of the former Kingdom of Beauvesh (now renamed) and the Old Church texts stored at the Academy.

After the hastily executed rebellion, made possible by their support and Ariel’s impulsive actions, miraculously succeeded, Philip had forgotten his promise completely.

There was no particular reason; having his long-plotted revenge end so anticlimactically had simply drained his attachment to life.

But that was Philip’s circumstance alone. The radical faction of the New Church that had invested time and money in him demanded their rightful compensation, and this was the result: an undying body, a never-ending life, and eternal solitude.

“Hey.”

Still mid-stretch and staring at the sky, Philip’s upper body was pushed backward with a thud. 

Finally coming to his senses, he lowered his tingling arms and looked up to see who had pushed him.

“You think my words are a joke?”

It was Tom, the owner of the angry voice that had been calling him from the foot of the hill moments ago. Now he was glaring at Philip, exhaling forcefully through his nose. Looking down at Tom, Philip shrugged nonchalantly.

“No?”

“Ha! ‘No?’ The young mistress favors you, and you’ve become so arrogant!”

Well, with our difference in looks, it’s only natural she’d prefer me to you, isn’t it? Though he couldn’t bring himself to say this aloud, Philip silently endured Tom’s continuing outburst.

“You think you’ll stay young forever? Beauty is fleeting. A true man is defined by his abilities and inner character, not his appearance! Layabouts like you are a disgrace to manhood. You know that? No—”

“Hey! Didn’t you hear the bell?”

Tom’s tirade was cut short by an urgent call from the vineyard below, where someone was frantically waving at them.

* * *

“Is everyone here?”

John, the butler and effective manager of the large estate with its vineyard, surveyed the gathered workers before pushing up his glasses.

He rolled his narrow eyes several times from left to right, checking something, before finally clearing his throat.

“I have important news that you all should know.”

‘This doesn’t feel good.’

Philip’s intuition, honed from years of moving between various estates, warned him. Sudden important news in the middle of grape harvest season couldn’t possibly be good.

“The estate has been sold.”

This, however, was unexpected.

“The new owner will arrive sometime this month, so everyone should decide what you want to do and come see me within the week. If you choose to leave, I’ll provide compensation for your work so far. If you wish to stay, I’ll write you a letter of recommendation.”

The estate being sold, this was a first even for Philip, who had experienced all manner of situations. He frowned slightly, lost in thought.

Should he leave or stay? He couldn’t easily decide either way. He liked this quiet countryside too much to leave, and finding another suitable place to settle would be troublesome. 

Yet staying meant dealing with Tom, who would openly harass him, especially with a change in ownership. The decision wasn’t easy.

“That’s all the announcements. Everyone dismissed! Return to your positions and continue working!”

‘Did you hear that? Your high-and-mighty attitude ends today!’

Seeing Tom turn toward him sharply as soon as John gave the dismissal order, Philip immediately made his decision: he would leave.

If he had to choose between different kinds of trouble, the former was preferable.

“What?”

“I said you cannot quit.”

In the end, Philip couldn’t leave the farm.

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, why? You already agreed to stay. Look, your signature is right here on the recommendation list.”

It was Tom’s doing. Exhausted by Tom’s malice in imitating his handwriting just to torment him, Philip sighed deeply before nodding respectfully to John and leaving the manager’s office, accepting the outcome.

‘This is going to be troublesome.’

It was a disaster brought on by Philip’s casual attitude.

Unable to leave, Philip remained at the estate and joined the other workers who had decided to stay in preparing for the new owner’s arrival.

Of course, with Philip’s physical abilities, he could have escaped the estate on his own, but that was a last resort.

With a body that didn’t age, the time he could spend in one place was limited, and whenever that time ran out, he would use that last resort to leave his current home.

He knew well the consequences of such actions. How troublesome and difficult it was to crawl into unfamiliar lands where no one knew him and build everything from scratch. He understood this better than anyone.

For these reasons, Philip, who had suddenly found himself holding a mop, pressed his throbbing temples and began mopping the corridor.

“Have you heard? The new owner is supposedly a young lady.”

“Really? How did you find that out?”

“A friend in the kitchen told me. They ordered so much cocoa powder…”

As he cleaned the corridor, then the guest rooms, followed by the attic, kitchen, and storage room, Philip gathered various pieces of information about the “new owner” who would soon move into the estate.

“Did you see the paintings in the guest rooms?”

“You mean those landscapes?”

“Yes, those. That coastal landscape in particular, isn’t it ‘The Last Sunset’? The one that was in the newspapers.”

“That’s right. And there was also a Settler Orphanage Honorary Medal.”

“When did you see that?”

“Um… yesterday, or the day before? A young man brought it in.”

“Could be her fiancé?”

“Or maybe her husband?”

Combining all these rumors, which might or might not be accurate information, it seemed that the “new owner” who would be moving in within the week was, first, fond of cocoa; second, wealthy enough to own numerous famous paintings; third, compassionate enough to have received honorary medals that could only be obtained through consistent support of orphanages; and most importantly, fourth, a young lady accompanied by a handsome young man who might be either her husband or fiancé.

Unable to form a clear picture of what kind of lady she might be, Philip eventually cleared all these rumors from his mind.

‘Enough. Back to cleaning.’

By the time the estate was sparkling, looking newly built, the rumored new mistress finally made her appearance.

* * *

“Pleased to meet you all. I don’t know how long we’ll be together, but let’s get along well for as long as time allows.”

The “new owner” who appeared wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat wasn’t quite the young lady the rumors had described.

Though her exceptionally slender figure gave off a youthful impression even from a distance, her unusually deep, low voice conveyed a strange atmosphere of experience and maturity.

‘Is it just my imagination… why does my scalp hurt?’

For some reason, the moment Philip heard the voice of this woman who had become the estate’s new owner, he felt a sharp pain starting from the crown of his head. It was like having his head shattered by a direct hit from something blunt.

He experienced an odd sense of déjà vu, feeling he had experienced this before.

‘…should be… enough… blanket and… je…’

A white snowfield, long tracks in the snow, long black hair fluttering in the wind. Philip frowned at these fragmentary memories suddenly surfacing. His mind itched with memories that seemed just beyond his grasp.

“Welcome, miss.”

“Welcome.”

But the moment passed quickly.

As the estate manager John offered his welcoming greeting to the new owner, Philip lowered the hand that had been touching his scalp and joined the others in applause.