A familiar envelope arrived that morning. The sender: Maude Hablein.

At the sight of that delightful name, Milton’s face brightened with a grin as he made his way toward Kyle’s office. It had already been three days since the tabloids hit the streets.

A lot has changed around the mansion since then. First, countless invitations from high society had been sent under Grand Duke Kyle’s name. Second, reporters had practically built camps around the estate.

It had gotten so bad that whenever a servant tried to step outside, they were immediately ambushed by journalists, shrieking as they were grabbed for comment. So lately, the household had been under constant guard, both inside and out.

Kyle himself had returned home after an early leave. He regretted it the moment he walked through the door. Even he couldn’t easily leave the mansion anymore—and he knew full well that all this unwanted attention and obsession stemmed from a single, ridiculous title:

“Maude’s Man.”

There was no undoing it now. All he could do was endure. And today, as always, Kyle was once again learning the art of patience.

A knock came from beyond the study door.

“Come in.”

Milton stepped in, and Kyle’s gaze immediately dropped to the envelope in his butler’s hands.

“Lady Maude Hablein has sent correspondence, Your Grace,” Milton said with a small, knowing smile.

Kyle nodded. A small light-green envelope descended into his open palm—decorated, as always, with a sprig of myrtle flowers.

Kyle stared at it for a moment, then broke the seal and began to read.

Even though Kyle’s face remained impassive, Milton couldn’t hide his quiet joy. The Duke was not only accepting her letters but actually reading them on the spot!

That was progress—extraordinary progress.

He was already planning how he’d share this heartening news with Madam Farris, the old nurse who had raised Kyle. Surely, this would be enough to make her rise from her sickbed.

But while Milton’s heart fluttered, Kyle sighed in disbelief as he finished the letter.

She was unbelievable—first putting herself up as a wager, and now turning herself into the season’s most coveted prize of the social week. Her handwriting was graceful and elegant, but her personality was… something else entirely.

“A girl like a foal,” Kyle murmured, shaking his head.

He pictured her darting freely across green meadows—a wild, untamed creature.

“My partner, the foal, doesn’t have the best manners,” he muttered, sounding annoyed but betraying a trace of amusement.

Milton couldn’t help smiling.

Kyle folded the letter and rose from his desk, the green envelope still in hand. He walked toward the terrace beside his office—a quiet spot with soft lighting, a broad-backed chair, and a small table where he usually read or napped.

Opening the drawer of the side table, he found several identical envelopes neatly stacked inside. He placed the new one on top and looked down at them. All in the same delicate shade of green—the color of the meadows where his little “foal” must have run free.

A faint chuckle escaped him as he closed the drawer.

Outside, summer was ripening. With each familiar morning breeze, the mansion slowly found its rhythm again. Milton’s steps were lighter than ever as he left the study.

***

It had been nearly a month since Maude’s last letter. Late that night, Kyle finally slipped out of the estate, taking the small back road that wound behind the guesthouse—his way of avoiding the reporters who still camped outside.

Though the tabloid that branded him as “Maude’s Man” had spread across the entire empire, all it contained was a blurry, black-and-white side profile taken from afar. The world wanted more—a proper scandal shot—and everyone knew exactly what that meant: a clear photograph of the Grand Duke himself.

Reporters were prowling like wolves, desperate for that one perfect picture.

Night air streamed in through the open car window. Darkness had swallowed the forest, and the quiet scenery rushing past soothed him. He pressed down on the accelerator. His destination: Bergen Station, where he’d board a train to the capital, Ness.

He detested visiting the capital—but this trip was unavoidable. He needed to inspect the stone intended for the restoration of Lespont Palace’s outer walls himself.

Lespont—the white palace built for his mother, the late Empress Renee, beloved by the entire empire. Kyle had overseen its maintenance personally since the year he came of age. He had never entrusted it to anyone—not even Milton, his long-serving butler, nor Madam Farris, the woman who raised him.

As his car sped through the dense summer woods, his gaze caught on a myrtle tree by the roadside—his mother’s favorite flower.

He could almost see them again, blooming in waves around Lespont’s central fountain. The petals fluttering in the wind, the rustle of leaves whispering the sound of summer.

And then, suddenly, another image rose in his mind—a woman, her ribbon of myrtle-patterned lace fluttering in that same breeze.

Kyle exhaled a helpless laugh. A ridiculous thought, yet the faintest smile touched his lips. It was, after all, the season when the myrtle bloomed in full.

***

“…Haah.”

The negotiations that had begun that morning finally wrapped up at dusk, when the city was bathed in twilight.

The talks had been grueling from the start—thanks to Jenald Raiden, the mine owner, who kept whining about the difficulty and rarity of excavation.

By the time Kyle stepped out of the hotel, fatigue weighed heavily on his face. He ran a hand through his hair and loosened his perfectly tied cravat.

“Stupid b*stard.”

Raiden’s idiocy might have saved Kyle some money, but it hadn’t spared him the irritation.

He recalled hearing that Raiden had recently invested in illegal slave trading—a disgusting but lucrative business.

Even in an age of industry, machines still required people to run them. And though wages were already deplorably low, greedy capitalists still refused to pay fair prices.

Thus, beneath that web of twisted profit and hypocrisy—the scheme had poured staggering profits into the hands of buyers and investors alike. So it was hardly surprising that fools were lining up to throw their entire fortunes into it.

The Raiden family was no exception. To them, it must have looked like the perfect opportunity— everyone else had made a fortune, so surely they would too.

Kyle thought of moths. 

Moths navigate by light, holding a fixed angle to its glow. And so, in their blind pursuit, they spiral ever closer— until, inevitably, they hurl themselves straight into the flame.

Greed was no different.

He checked his watch. The station at Ness was only ten minutes away on foot.

Kyle chose to walk. His long strides carried him down a well-paved boulevard lined with tall street trees. Between the gas lamps flickering to life, the city shimmered with its evening brilliance.

A cool night breeze ruffled his hair, and amid the rustling leaves, a familiar voice pierced through—

“Captain!!”

Once.

“Captain!”

And again.

He turned, startled— and there she was.

Maude, appearing out of nowhere, stood catching her breath as she looked up at him.

“Do you… always walk… this fast?” she panted.

Kyle met her gaze, eyes lingering on her bright, flushed face.

“I’ve been chasing you since way back there—” she pointed toward the line of trees, gasping between words. “I thought I was going to die!”

Judging by her labored breathing, she wasn’t exaggerating.

“It’s been a while,” Kyle said politely, taking a small step back and bowing his head in greeting.

“Hasn’t it?”

Maude responded with a graceful nod, her cheeks tinged the color of ripe peaches as she tried to catch her breath.

“When did you return?”

“Yesterday! I actually sent you a letter, but—” she grinned, proud as a child who’d won a game, “—looks like I got here faster!”

Her shoulders bounced with delight, and Kyle couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. She was even more like a foal today—untamed, brimming with life.

“And what would you have done if I weren’t me?”

“That’s impossible,” she replied with firm conviction. “A tall man like you isn’t exactly common, Captain.”

Her eyes swept him up and down in playful certainty. Absurd. Ridiculous. Entirely unexpected—as always.

Kyle looked down at her, a faint smile still curving his lips.

“Are you staying in Ness tonight?”

“No. I was actually on my way to the station.”

“Ah…”

Realization flickered across her face as she glanced toward the far end of the boulevard, where the station lights gleamed in the distance. The breathless run suddenly felt rather pointless.

She gave a small, awkward laugh and brushed her fingertips over the back of her hand. With nothing left to say, silence fell between them—an awkward, fluttering quiet.

Maude fumbled for a polite farewell to close the moment gracefully, but before she could speak—

Kyle said something entirely unexpected.