After returning from their outing, Lunaria resumed her usual routine. The only difference was that they now went for walks together after having tea with Cassion. It seemed his workload had indeed decreased.

“Cassion, I wish summer would come quickly.”

As they strolled through the expansive garden towards the rear grounds, she suddenly spoke up. Cassion looked at her in mild confusion.

“Why is that?”

“Because I want to see the morning glories that look like you!”

“…Morning glories that look like me?”

Lunaria smiled as she pointed to the wall they were passing and explained,

“Every summer, blue morning glories bloom all over this wall. When they catch the morning sunlight, their petals glow, looking both clear and blue. They look exactly like your eyes, Cassion. To me, that flower is yours.”

“…I see.”

“They’re so beautiful. And they bloom at dawn, just like you’re always up early and working diligently.”

Cassion gazed quietly at her as she spoke with bright, innocent enthusiasm. Her golden eyes shimmered like the full moon illuminating the night sky, and he found himself unable to look away.

“I, too, find myself anticipating summer.”

“Then you want to see the morning glories as well?”

“No.”

“Then why are you waiting for summer? Ah—because you don’t really like winter, do you?”

At her question, Cassion let out a quiet breath before replying gently.

“It’s true that winter is not my favorite. But more than that, I am looking forward to seeing the evening primroses.”

“Evening primroses?”

“Yes. When their yellow petals are touched by the night dew, they gleam like gold.”

As he spoke, he reached out and gently touched the edge of her eyelashes with his fingertip. One of her eyes fluttered closed instinctively. He pressed softly against her eyelid and then withdrew his hand.

She stared blankly as his touch faded, murmuring.

“Gleaming… gold…”

Just as she had compared him to a morning glory, she felt as though he had compared her to an evening primrose. This stirred her heart restlessly. Whenever he gave her subtle signs that he was thinking of her, hope bloomed inside her.

Despite there being no particular intimacy since her heat, she could not shake the feeling that he was steadily growing closer to her.

“Hehe!”

Her laughter escaped without restraint.

Her elegant steps faltered slightly, but she was grateful that her tail was still in place. Had it appeared, it would have wagged wildly, betraying her joy.

“I hope summer comes quickly!”

“Hmm. I would prefer summer to arrive more slowly.”

“Eh? Why?”

“You are particularly weak against the heat.”

“….”

Her heart beat so fast it almost hurt when he spoke. His affection and concern were clear in that single sentence. Warmth rose from the nape of her neck and spread to her ears and cheeks.

Despite it being winter, her whole body felt overheated. No matter how hard she tried to steady herself, she could not suppress her happiness; the corners of her lips kept lifting.

Cassion watched her flushed face in silence.

He found her open and earnest response to his words pleasing.

No.

It wasn’t just her expression.

In his world, only her face truly existed.

It was the only thing in his life that he possessed entirely. His own. His guide.

Cassion kept his gaze fixed on Lunaria as she walked ahead of him, her steps light and almost skipping. The fading winter sunlight scattered a reddish glow across her pale skin. Her golden eyes deepened in color, and the way she looked back at him stirred something warm within his chest.

For a moment, his fingers twitched as though he were reaching for something just out of his grasp.

But he could not name that impulse.

The tragedy of the Night of the Crimson Moon had left a curse upon everyone.

Not only upon those who had perished —

— but also upon Cassion, the sole survivor of that night.

He had never truly escaped it.

“Cassion, let’s go to the greenhouse quickly. It’s cold.”

“…Very well.”

She believed that he disliked winter because he was sensitive to the cold. Although she could endure the cold far better than most, she chose the greenhouse for his sake.

But he did not feel the cold.

His body was stronger than that of an ordinary man and could withstand both heat and frost without difficulty. Yet he never corrected her misunderstanding, for two reasons.

Firstly, he enjoyed the way she looked at him with concern.

Secondly, he had no intention of allowing her to hear even the faintest trace of the Night of the Crimson Moon.

As he followed her down the corridor, he was taken back by his memory to that day, to that winter when blood-soaked winds tore through the Grand Duke’s castle, only for an eerie, almost gentle, spring-like stillness to settle afterwards.

From that day on, the curse took something from him.

It stole his ability to recognize faces.

It was as though, in exchange for granting him freedom, something vital had been stripped away.

He could no longer distinguish one face from another. Emperor, Crown Prince — whoever stood before him looked the same.

They all wore the face of his dead father.

Seeing that dreadful face everywhere and all the time was unbearable. Still, he could tell people apart to some extent. Their voices and builds remained distinct.

Even so, he could not afford to make a mistake.

The freedom he had finally claimed could not be lost because of a mistake like that.

So he started speaking formally to everyone, without exception.

It was absurd that society praised him as the epitome of gentlemanly behavior. In truth, it was nothing more than a calculated measure to ensure that, should he ever mistake one person for another, he could conceal it without consequence.

Click. Step.

Their footsteps echoed through the corridor.

Having been momentarily submerged in the past, he looked up at the softly swaying black locks in front of him and spoke.

“Lunaria.”

“Yes, Cassion?”

She had been walking ahead, but when she heard his voice, she turned around immediately. This sudden movement sent her glossy black hair sweeping outwards and caused the hem of her dress to flare up gracefully. The wide skirt, which was tailored to conceal her tail, fluttered in the air once more.

His gaze slowly travelled over her, from the tips of her shoes to the crown of her head. He took in every detail of Lunaria, the being he had created.

He preferred this hairstyle.

The dress had been commissioned at his instruction.

He had personally chosen the shoes lined with cotton.

He had selected the jewelry himself.

But above all, it was her face that held him.

Clear. Distinct.

Unlike the others, who all bore his father’s features, she alone had a face that was uniquely hers. Today, her golden eyes shone brightly, radiant as burnished gold.

The life he had saved.

No — he had done more than save her. He had clothed her, fed her, sheltered her, and taught her.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that he had devoted himself entirely to her.

And so—

She was unquestionably his.

“Come here.”

When she saw his outstretched hand, Lunaria hurried towards him and slipped her fingers into his. Instead of lifting her as he used to when she was a child, he simply held her hand. The way he did it was unmistakably affectionate; it was not the distant formality of an escort.

He laced their fingers together firmly and took the lead this time.

When they reached the greenhouse, he opened the door and guided her inside first. He followed immediately after, closing the door securely behind them.

He had no desire to be disturbed when he was with her. Especially not now, when he could finally allow himself a rare moment of relaxation.

It was then that her bright expression faltered and she stiffened ever so slightly.

Cassion, attuned to even the slightest change in her, did not miss it.

“Is the greenhouse too stifling? Shall we go back outside?”

“…No. I like the greenhouse. There are rare flowers and plants here. It’s pleasant to look around.”

“Even so, seeing the same place every day can grow tiresome. Hmm… perhaps the Grand Duke’s castle itself has become dull to you.”

Lunaria nearly leapt as she corrected him.

“This place could never be boring!”

“Then is something troubling you?”

When he asked her directly, she finally decided to tell him what had been troubling her.

Although she couldn’t tell him that she was only half beastkin, she felt she had to tell him about her heat.

In truth, she had not wanted to say anything. However, the more time she spent with him, the heavier her conscience became. She didn’t want to lie to him if she could help it.

“…There’s something I’ve been hiding from you, Cassion.”

The moment the words left her lips, the pressure of the hand holding hers tightened.

So much so that even she—stronger than most humans—felt a sharp sting.