Kyle’s eyebrow rose for just a second before settling again. His attention was fixed on one thing only.

“Are you all right?”

He wanted to see her face — the expression hidden beneath that bowed head. The peaches hitting the water made a soft, musical sound, like someone tapping a xylophone. Maude’s cheeks burned a deep, summer-red. Her wide green eyes were dazed, her thoughts scattering like ripples across the sea.

Kyle didn’t take his eyes off her.

“I’m fine,” she blurted out quickly, slipping from his arms.

She kept saying she was fine — once, twice, again — but she hadn’t even checked if she really was. The only thing she could think about was the embarrassing sight of herself flailing just moments ago. The shame was enough to make her want to sink into the waves with the peaches.

Of course, she couldn’t admit that. And with him still staring so intently at her, her face only grew hotter.

Then her smile froze. Her handkerchief bag — it felt so much lighter.

That’s when it hit her.

‘My peaches.’

“Haa…”

A sigh slipped out, long and heavy. Kyle watched her, mildly surprised that someone could look so heartbroken over a few lost pieces of fruit.

“Excuse me, miss. Did you drop these?”

The intruding voice belonged to the man who’d been sneaking glances at her all along. His stubby fingers clutched one of the runaway peaches. Maude’s expression shifted in an instant.

“Yes! Thank you so much!”

Her face brightened like sunlight. The man’s greasy grin spread wider.

“It’s an honor to be of service to such a beautiful lady.”

Kyle had no patience for it. Watching another man show off with her peaches was somehow more irritating than it should’ve been. It wasn’t that he wasn’t fine — he just had no reason to be.

Maude smiled politely. 

“Thank you, sir. They’re a special gift.”

At that, the air changed — a soft tension stirring between the lines of her words.

“A gift, huh? Well, this day’s a gift for me too.”

The man stepped forward, hand outstretched to return the peach. But before Maude could take it, another hand reached in — smooth, sure, deliberate.

Kyle.

His gaze was cold and clean, cutting straight through the man’s smirk.

“Then allow me to return your generosity,” he said evenly.

He tossed two peaches — directly into the man’s arms. The man fumbled in surprise, nearly dropping them.

“W–wait, what—”

“Let’s go,” Kyle said softly, turning to Maude. “We need to buy more peaches.”

Before she could protest, his hand found hers — firm, steady, warm. They walked down the breakwater, the sea breeze tickling the back of her neck.

And for once, she didn’t pull away.

***

The night train to Ness rolled quietly through the dark. The two of them sat across from each other, just like before.

Maude’s eyes dropped to the row of paper bags beside her — all filled with peaches. Her gaze sharpened as it drifted to the man opposite her, who was calmly reading the book he’d borrowed from her.

‘Why does he look so smug?’

He hadn’t needed to buy out the whole fruit stall. Or hold her hand, for that matter. Everything he did looked far too easy — far too natural — and somehow that made it worse.

She mimicked his composed posture, pretending to read, but the memory of his hand around hers was still fresh. She could almost feel the breeze again brushing against her hair.

‘Stop thinking about it, Maude! Stop. Thinking.’

She buried her face behind a newspaper, trying to hide her burning cheeks.

Across from her, Kyle lowered his book slightly and watched.

‘You’ve gained quite a few things you like,’ he thought. ‘That’s good enough.’

They hadn’t even bought all she wanted — she’d stopped him halfway through.

“Please, stop buying them! Enough, I said!”

Her desperate scolding replayed in his mind, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward. He still didn’t quite understand why she’d been so frantic about it — signaling toward the station, blocking his path, trying to drag him away from the stall.

But at least that sleazy guy from the pier was gone. Cleanly erased.

Kyle leaned back in his seat, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

***

High above the city, in the top-floor restaurant of a luxury department store, Clifton Drevan sat across from Elbert Craig, the former prime minister.

They met occasionally, and the old man hadn’t changed much — save for a few more wrinkles and the thinning of his silver hair. His suit, pressed and perfect down to the vest, spoke of the same rigid dignity he’d always carried. Elbert Craig — loyal to the crown since the founding of the nation, sharp-minded, proud, and unyielding.

Too unyielding, perhaps.

Clifton studied him over the rim of his glass, wondering what the old man wanted this time. Then Elbert finally spoke, reaching for his water.

“How is His Grace these days?”

Clifton’s brow twitched.

‘Straight to the point, huh? D*mn him.’

He managed a polite smile. “Busy as ever.”

The words were simple but loaded — a neat way of saying ‘You don’t need to know.’ Elbert nodded slowly, and Clifton returned a smooth, diplomatic smile.

Everyone knew where Elbert’s loyalties lay. He’d always been the Emperor’s eyes and ears — even in matters the throne pretended not to see.

King Leopold had been using him to keep tabs on Kyle ever since Clifton had grown close to the Duke.

And clearly, tonight’s dinner was no exception.

“Still seeing Lady Maude Hablein, is he?”

The knife in Clifton’s hand stilled. His eyes flicked up.

‘So that’s what this is about? The Emperor’s matchmaking now?’

For a moment, Leopold’s sly grin overlapped with Elbert’s stiff face.

“Yes, they seem to get along quite well,” Clifton replied smoothly, resuming his cutting.

Well, at least that part was true. Maude was a fine match by anyone’s standards — bright, poised, well-bred. Even the Emperor couldn’t complain about that.

Elbert nodded, satisfied. 

“That’s good to hear.”

Clifton echoed, “Indeed.”

But reading Elbert Craig was as hard as reading the future. His expression gave nothing away.

“Ah, and about the crown prince’s request for the custom car,” Elbert added casually, his tone shifting. “Just give it to him. No need to make trouble.”

Clifton’s polite mask cracked.

‘That brat again?’

“Taxes, he says?” Clifton muttered under his breath, disgust curling his lip.

The crown prince, Rhaion, had been pestering and threatening Drevan’s company for three months over a custom car order — one modeled exactly after Kyle’s.

A car he didn’t even know how to drive.

Clifton let out a long sigh. 

“I should just build the whole thing out of cheap parts. He wouldn’t notice.”

Elbert clicked his tongue. 

“Hmph. Don’t tempt me to agree.” 

He shook his head with a weary scowl. Clifton chuckled, the tension easing for a moment. 

“Are you so sure he wouldn’t know the difference?”

Elbert’s steady green eyes met his, sharp as ever — the kind of gaze that said, ‘Don’t pretend you don’t understand how this game works.’

“Let’s just drink,” Elbert said finally, signaling for the wine. “It’s the last of the Portburn ’30.”

Clifton smiled and raised his glass.

For all the hidden motives, it almost looked like a peaceful dinner — two men slicing their steaks, trading meaningless words beneath the city lights.

Almost.