“Still, you must continue treatment for your fractured arm until it has fully healed, even if it’s at another hospital.”

“Yes, I will.”

After receiving Winter’s brief reply, the nurse handed her a small packet of medication.

The hospital had been in chaos for days, overwhelmed by the flood of patients brought in from the disaster site.

Exhausted from endless overtime, the nurse was simply relieved that at least one more patient was able to leave safely.

“Please come here! My leg has been hurting terribly since last night!”

The nurse, who had been organizing the charts of discharged patients, immediately jumped to her feet in response to the urgent call for assistance.

Shortly afterwards, another member of staff hurried to the desk and quickly found the documents they needed.

Amid the confusion and commotion, a chart labelled ‘Unknown Identity’ was accidentally mixed into a pile of paperwork being moved around.

The corner that had briefly stuck out was soon buried beneath other documents.

And just like that, it disappeared from sight.

***

The car left the hospital and sped towards Karten’s largest port city.

Winter sat quietly, staring out of the window.

She didn’t want to return to Vartz, the capital.

Nor did she want to return to Ceres, her hometown.

If she could go somewhere where no one knew her and start again, she would.

Mrs Roche didn’t force conversation on the silent Winter.

Remembering a phone call from several weeks earlier, she tightly closed her eyes against the tears threatening to spill over.

Despite her objections, her daughter had left home and been swept away by a handsome man who was all looks and no substance.

After giving birth, Clara had only sent the occasional photograph and brief update.

During their last phone call, however, Clara had hesitated for a long time before speaking.

“Mom, I… I want to come home with Lily.”

After finally plucking up the courage to tell her mother, Lily’s daughter trailed off, quietly admitting that she had already separated from her father.

She had been counting down the days, eagerly awaiting their reunion.

And yet…

Holding her young granddaughter tightly in her arms, Mrs Roche wiped away the tears gathering in her eyes.

Thinking of her daughter, who was gone forever, tore her heart apart.

Mrs Roche fought back tears as Winter quietly admired the ever-changing scenery outside the window.

She had never seen the sea before.

The first thing that filled her vision was the silver shimmer of sunlight dancing across the waves.

Next came the sprawling harbor, the crowds of people moving busily through the streets, and the ships scattered along the distant horizon.

Soon, a sign appeared beyond the window as the car travelled along the coastal road.

***

Ellen’s atelier was the first place to hear the news of Winter Wood’s death.

Late that afternoon, Ellen picked up the loudly ringing telephone.

However, after hearing the voice on the other end of the line, she found herself unable to speak.

Still bent over with the receiver pressed to her ear, she froze completely.

“…I thought I should inform the atelier first. We were certain Winter had returned to Vartz. I don’t know why she boarded a train bound for Santero…”

“…Are you saying Winter really died in that accident?”

Ellen forced the question out.

The shock hit her like a bolt from a clear sky, and she collapsed into her chair.

She had naturally assumed Winter had returned safely to her hometown.

An accident?

How could that be?

“Yes, a representative from the railway company dealing with the aftermath came to our house. I never imagined that news brought by a stranger could be so tragic.”

Jeffrey Wood’s voice drifted through the receiver in broken fragments.

Ellen could do nothing but repeatedly ask whether they were absolutely certain.

After the brief call ended, she stared blankly at the empty workbench.

There were too many memories of Winter to count.

The girl had practically lived in the atelier.

“Master, which color do you think would suit this better? Could you take a look for me?”

“Time passes so quickly whenever I’m painting. You should head home first. I’ll finish this and leave afterward.”

“Do you think I’ll ever become a painter who can move people’s hearts the way you do?”

She should never have forced Winter out of the atelier so abruptly.

Never.

Ellen never imagined that Winter would leave this world in such a cruel and senseless way.

Lowering her head, Ellen was overwhelmed by a crushing sense of regret that had come far too late.

For a moment, she thought of the Duke of Mayer.

But she had no desire to deliver the news to Eden Mayer in person.

If he had been a decent man from the start, he would never have cast Winter aside because of a marriage arrangement with another woman.

Wiping her bloodshot eyes, Ellen picked up the receiver once more.

At the very least, the Royal Academy of Arts — the place Winter had loved with all her heart — deserved to be informed of the tragedy.

***

In the early hours of the morning, the sound of a delivery van breaking the night’s silence could be heard as it arrived at the Mayers’ estate.

As usual, he handed the newspaper to the butler.

Printed in one corner was a brief obituary.

[Winter Wood, Painter of the Royal Academy of Arts, Dies in Train Accident]

[Miss Wood, a promising young artist who had been gaining recognition, lost her life in a tragic accident. The Royal Academy of Arts expressed its deepest condolences.]

A deep crease formed on Robert’s forehead.

As the man responsible for managing the Mayers’ household affairs, he was well aware of the relationship between the duke and Winter.

He had never imagined that a commoner and a painter like Miss Wood would one day stand beside the duke.

Nevertheless, the thought of someone so young losing her life left him feeling deeply saddened.

Even for someone like Robert, who rarely lost his composure, it was not easy to deliver the news to Eden.

“Your Grace, there is something I must tell you first.”

After reading the obituary, Eden remained silent for a long time.

The butler stood before his motionless master, quietly folding his hands and waiting.

There was an oppressive silence between them that neither of them could bear to break.

Beyond the window, bright sunlight streamed in, easing the harsh chill of the season.

Eden sat beneath the warm rays that poured over him.

Yet the thin, stiff sheet of paper in his hand felt unnaturally cold.

His deep blue eyes remained fixed on the small print, unable to look away.

The black letters seemed to pierce his gaze like sharpened arrows, each word striking deeper than the last.

[Winter Wood, Dies in Train Accident.]

He read the words.

Yet somehow, he couldn’t comprehend their meaning.

The veins on the back of Eden’s hand stood out sharply beneath the skin as he gripped the edge of the newspaper tightly.

The room was unnaturally quiet.

It was the kind of silence that made it feel as though something had gone terribly wrong.

Robert studied the Duke’s rigid expression carefully.

Then, at last, a voice broke the suffocating silence.

“Robert.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Eden called for his butler, but the words wouldn’t come.

There were orders he needed to give.

Things he should have acted on immediately.

Yet his mind had gone completely blank.

The only thing occupying his thoughts was Winter and the last time he had seen her.

Was she dead?

No.

He couldn’t believe it.

That couldn’t possibly be true.

There must be some mistake.

It was probably a false report, born of the chaos and confusion at the scene of the accident.

Mistakes like that happened all the time.

They happened all the time.

A hollow, disbelieving laugh escaped through his clenched teeth.

Only then did Eden slowly lift his head.

“Verify it again.”

His voice was calm.

“Not through a few lines in a newspaper. I want the exact truth.”

The order was short and unmistakable.

For a moment, Robert hesitated.

After all, the Royal Academy of Arts had published the obituary itself.

Yet the Duke was refusing to accept it.

“…Yes, Your Grace. I will carry out your orders.”

The loyal butler bowed respectfully.

Nevertheless, he could not entirely conceal the troubled expression on his face.

Given the circumstances, the likelihood of a different answer was painfully slim.

After all, Winter Wood was a distinctive name that could not be mistaken for someone else’s.

Keeping these thoughts to himself, Robert remained silent.

His instincts told him that now was not the time to speak.

So he quietly withdrew.

Left alone, Eden slowly rose from his seat.

Ignoring the newspaper on the table, he stepped into the hallway.

At the far end of the corridor, which was lined with portraits of generations of Mayer dukes, hung his own portrait.

Eden stopped in front of the large painting.

A painting shaped by Winter’s hands.

A painting that bore traces of her in every brushstroke.

“Your Grace looks far more impressive in person. If the prince from the fairy tales I imagined as a child really existed… I think he would look like you.”

Her whisper came back to him with painful clarity.

He could remember how she had lowered her head to hide her flushed ears.

Yes.

It couldn’t be true.

Eden repeated the thought, as though sheer determination could make it a reality.

It would be foolish to believe a single piece of paper without question.

Yet beneath his eyes, which were desperately scanning every detail of the painting, a dark despair was beginning to gather.

The fragile dam of reason that he had managed to maintain until now seemed on the verge of collapse.

One small crack.

That was all it would take.

***

Robert and Parker, who had served the Duke of Mayer more closely than anyone else, sprang into action immediately.

They contacted the newspaper that had published the obituary.

They sought confirmation from the Royal Academy of Arts.

They even reached out to Ellen Haven’s atelier.

As expected, every source gave the same answer.

In the end, Robert returned to the duke with a grim expression.

There was no good news to report.

He recounted everything they had learned, concealing not a single detail.

“…”

Eden remained silent for a long time.

By the time Robert had run out of things to say, the duke suddenly shot to his feet.

Without saying a word, he flung open the door and strode out.

He never looked back.

His figure disappeared down the corridor.

“Your Grace.”

Sensing that something was wrong, Robert stepped forward.

However, before he could, Parker, who had been waiting outside, moved first and hurried after the duke.