Edward, who had kept his gaze lowered the entire time, finally lifted his head.

Only then did he truly see them: The blackened eyes beneath that hollow gaze.

The king fell silent, stunned by this new side to his nephew.

“I first met her last spring. She was the painter who came with Ellen Haven, whom Your Majesty commissioned to paint my portrait.”

“…”

“Miss Wood and I began seeing each other around that time.”

Eden’s face twisted as he confessed things no one had even asked about.

At times, it felt as though breathing itself was difficult, as if an invisible hand were crushing his heart.

“But… I abandoned her. Without knowing what would happen. Without seeing even a step ahead.”

The confession sounded less like an explanation and more like a desperate plea for forgiveness.

It was merely a bitter expression of regret.

His uneven breathing faded into the heavy silence, leaving no trace.

No one had ever asked him.

People were endlessly curious about Violet Lindal, a woman he had only met twice.

Yet not a single person had ever asked about Winter.

This realization was unbearable.

It felt as though the time he had shared with Winter had never truly existed for anyone else; as though their relationship had never been acknowledged.

Above all, he despised himself.

He hated that he had only been consumed by regret once everything was lost and beyond repair.

Watching his nephew struggle to control his emotions, the king could only let out a silent sigh.

‘Hariette.’

Even when he first heard that his sister was ill in bed, he never suspected that there was a hidden story behind it.

His beloved younger sister — his only sibling — had planned to abandon her husband and child and run away with another man.

To make matters worse, the man had taken care of himself and fled alone.

When Edward visited her, Hariette did nothing but cry, finally managing to utter a single sentence.

“I… truly loved him.”

“Hariette!”

It was the kind of scandal that society would mock for years to come.

This was why he had never bothered to find the man who had betrayed his sister and fled.

After Harriette Mayer passed away, he just wanted everything to be forgotten quietly.

Fortunately, the only blood relative she left behind grew up to be the most intelligent and accomplished person he knew.

‘And yet, is this obsession with foolish love something he inherited from his mother?’

He refused to believe that.

His exceptional nephew would never crumble so easily.

He just needed time.

The past would inevitably fade away.

Yes.

It would.

The Eden Mayer he knew was not a pathetic man.

Shoving his growing concerns to the back of his mind, Edward offered him some calm advice.

“Eden. Listen carefully to what I’m about to say.”

“…”

“I will pretend this conversation never happened. You understand that choosing a partner suitable for your status is one of your responsibilities. Time will resolve everything, so forget it.”

Having presented what he believed to be a simple and practical solution, the king put a cigarette between his lips.

There was no answer.

Edward believed that was enough.

In a few months, everything would return to normal.

He never looked closely at his nephew, who was obscured by the drifting smoke.

Nor did he see the true face of Eden Mayer, a man almost collapsing under the weight of overwhelming regret.

***

Spring had fully arrived in Santero, filling the city with warmth, color, and new life.

The sunlight shimmering across the blue sea was unmistakably warmer than in winter.

A soft breeze brushed against Winter’s cheeks as fresh green buds emerged on the trees lining the streets.

After leaving the art supply shop, Winter made her way down the steps with a bag of newly purchased brushes in hand.

Her feet naturally carried her onto the shortcut that wound through the olive grove by the sea.

She wanted to finish painting before sunset, so she hurried along without wasting time.

As she left the bustling shopping district behind, the crowds gradually thinned and the surroundings grew noticeably quieter.

Then, without warning, it happened.

A small figure suddenly darted around the corner.

Caught completely off guard, Winter instinctively stepped back and nearly lost her footing.

“Ah! I’m sorry! I didn’t do it on purpose!”

The child hurriedly apologized before running off again without waiting for a response.

Two boys of a similar age chased after her excitedly.

“Hey! It’s cheating if you start running ahead again!”

Laughter rang out across the cobblestone street, scattering in every direction like marbles rolling across the ground.

Steadying her racing heart, Winter quickly bent down to pick up the bag she had dropped.

The round case holding her rolled canvases had already tumbled several feet away.

Just as she was about to go after it, a stranger bent down and picked up the long tube.

Straightening to his full height, the man took a few steps toward Winter.

“Here you go. It looked like those children startled you quite a bit.”

“Ah, thank you.”

It seemed as though he had witnessed the whole incident.

Slightly embarrassed, Winter accepted the tube and slipped the thin leather strap over her shoulder.

The man standing before her was wearing a light shirt and looked as though he had just stepped out for a leisurely stroll.

Winter had never seen him before.

Winter studied him for a moment.

Naturally observant, she noticed the effortless way his black hair had been swept back. There was a quiet elegance about him that was difficult to overlook.

She had a feeling he was not an ordinary man.

Unlike the capital, Santero was a port city, and its nobles and wealthy residents carried themselves with a far more relaxed and leisurely air.

The man who had kindly retrieved her belongings seemed no different. He, too, appeared to belong to that world.

“You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”

Standing with the afternoon sun at his back, the man asked the question as Winter adjusted her grip on the handle of her bag.

His gaze seemed to linger briefly on the heavy bag and the art case slung over her shoulder, but Winter thought little of it and paid no particular attention.

“No, I’m fine. And… thank you for earlier.”

After expressing her gratitude once more, Winter turned away.

It had been a brief incident, nothing more.

Preoccupied with thoughts of her painting and how little time she had left to work on it, she hurried down the alley.

At that moment, a familiar voice called out above the man who was watching the woman hurry away.

“Gabriel.”

The speaker was Vincent, who had been standing on the balcony looking down for a while.

He had been waiting for a friend who had recently returned, and he waved for him to come up.

It was only then that Gabriel entered the building, carrying a sign from the finance office.

“How long has it been, Gabriel?”

Vincent immediately pulled his friend into a hug.

“Nothing major happened while you were away, right?”

Responding to the enthusiastic greeting with a smile, Gabriel glanced around the newly renovated office.

Having returned to his hometown only a few days ago, everything still felt unfamiliar.

“Sit down first. So, are you back for good this time?”

“Well, something like that. What about you? How have you been?”

“As you can see, I’ve been stuck in this office the entire time. I stare at account books every day. These days, I’m even doing calculations in my dreams.”

Gabriel let out a quiet laugh in response to the teasing remark, then leaned back comfortably in his balcony chair.

Delighted to see him again, Vincent bombarded him with questions, then openly admired his friend.

While Vincent felt that he had aged and become ordinary-looking, Gabriel Regner had become even more handsome.

Black hair.

Dark eyes.

Fair skin that highlighted his noble bearing.

He had strikingly refined features, too.

Having known Gabriel for years as the son of the Marquis Regner family — one of Santero’s most prestigious noble houses — Vincent could only sigh inwardly.

Comparing himself to someone blessed with such looks from birth was pointless.

As they continued to catch up on each other’s lives, Vincent finally brought up the question that had been on his mind all along.

“What were you talking about with Miss Roche just now? Do you know each other?”

“Miss Roche?”

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t even know her name.”

“Of course not. Today was the first time I’ve ever seen her.”

After hearing the disappointingly simple answer, Vincent nodded with a deflated expression.

“Ah, I thought you two might have already known each other.”

“So who was the lady I ran into earlier?”

“You know Roche Salon, right? She’s related to the owner. She only moved to Santero a few months ago. Her name is Winter Roche. We’re not close friends or anything. I’ve just seen her occasionally when I’ve visited the Roche family.”

Gabriel tilted his head slightly as Vincent continued his explanation.

Of course he knew Roche Salon.

He had visited the salon several times himself before leaving the country.

‘Winter.’

Unconsciously repeating the name of the woman he had met earlier, Gabriel asked another question.

“It looked like she paints.”

“Hm?”

“The young lady from earlier. She was carrying an art case.”

At that, Vincent tilted his head.

“I’m not sure. She shows up at the salon from time to time, but not much is known about her beyond that. She probably paints as a hobby. Mrs. Roche has never mentioned that her niece is a painter.”

“She works at the salon?”

“Ah, not exactly as an employee. It seems more like she helps out occasionally. Why? Are you curious?”