His blue eyes lowered onto the empty glass and sank into the darkness beyond.

He had first met Winter in spring, when the days were starting to get longer.

“Winter Wood. A painter who trained as an apprentice at the Royal Academy of Arts. She accompanied Ellen Haven, the artist commissioned to paint Your Grace’s full-length portrait, as her assistant.”

The butler’s introduction of the young painter, who was visiting the ducal estate for the first time, was brief.

It was in this very reception room that he first encountered the woman who had left her hometown to pursue her dreams.

She stood before a large canvas, carrying a black charcoal case.

Her features were delicate, as though painted with the finest brushstrokes.

Her slender nape bowed politely the moment she sensed someone’s presence.

Put simply, she was a woman who kept drawing his attention.

“Your Grace.”

A clear voice pulled him out of his reverie.

The moment their eyes met, he noticed the faint tremor in the corners of Winter’s gentle eyes.

She was clearly shaken, although she probably wasn’t even aware of it.

That was the kind of person Winter Wood was.

Every emotion and thought was written plainly across her face.

At first, he had only wanted to look into her eyes a little longer.

But somewhere along the way, he had fallen completely for the woman who always carried the faint scent of paint with her, without realizing it.

The more time he spent with Winter, the more he wanted their relationship to become deeper.

Naturally, he started to dream of a long-term future with her.

Unlike Winter, who sometimes recoiled when confronted with reality, he had never been concerned about their different social standings.

If that had truly been an obstacle, he would never have pursued a relationship with her in the first place.

Then, one day, when his feelings had grown much deeper than he realized, Winter handed him a photograph and smiled brightly.

At the time, he had never imagined it.

He had never imagined that Winter was that man’s daughter.

“It’s my father. After my mother passed away, he’s the only family I have.”

It was only after seeing the photograph that he finally understood.

The man holding young Winter in his arms was the same man that Harriet Mayer had loved so deeply that it ultimately destroyed her.

He recognized the face from the small, framed photograph that his bedridden mother had never been able to part with and that he had seen countless times.

Only then did he truly notice the striking resemblance between the two people in the photograph.

Their features were so similar that anyone could tell at a glance that they were father and daughter.

“When I was younger, my dream was to marry someone like my father.”

Eden froze as Winter spoke proudly about her father, oblivious to the truth.

It was a cruel twist of fate.

He had never imagined that he would one day discover what had become of the man who had abandoned everything and fled.

Harriet, who had also been involved in the affair, met a tragic end.

Yet the man at the center of it all had gone on to live a peaceful life devoted to his family.

The stark contrast was almost unbearable.

A bitter laugh escaped him.

The man who had had an affair and then run away like a coward was now remembered as a loving husband and devoted father.

The irony was absurd to the point of being laughable.

Forcing those painful memories aside, Eden stood up straight.

“Arthur Helburn. After leaving the capital, he settled in Ceres near the border. Later, he even changed his name.”

His voice had dropped so low that it seemed to scrape against the floor.

Ceres.

It was also Winter’s hometown, far from Vartz.

A strange tension tightened Winter’s throat.

She could not understand why she felt so anxious while listening to a story that should have had nothing to do with her.

The man’s firm hand wrapped around the crystal glass after refilling it with liquor.

“Jeffrey Wood. It’s a name you should know better than anyone.”

There was no way she could fail to recognize it.

The moment her father’s name was mentioned, she forgot how to breathe.

She wanted to protest that it had gone too far to be considered a joke.

But she knew Eden wasn’t the kind of person to make such tasteless jokes.

All she could do was move her lips soundlessly.

“Wh-What… are you saying…?”

Unable to take his eyes off her pale face, Eden slowly closed his eyes.

He needed a moment to contain the tangled emotions surging inside him.

‘I loved you.’

‘And I treasured every moment we spent together.’

But some things could never be undone.

He fought back the overwhelming urge to reach for her trembling hands and hold them tightly.

Biting down on his lip, he forced himself to speak, as though cutting away the feelings that were threatening to break free.

Winter could only stare at him in stunned silence.

Not a single word would come.

“What I’ve just told you is the very reason we can never be together.”

The words fell between them like a final sentence.

To Winter, they felt like a blade driven straight through her heart, severing every precious memory they had shared.

***

“Winter? Are you in here?”

Ellen tilted her head as she opened the storeroom door at the end of the long corridor.

Under normal circumstances, Winter would have arrived at the studio by now.

Having observed her diligence for years, Ellen glanced at the wall clock.

‘Did she oversleep?’

As the exhibition approached, Winter had been pushing herself relentlessly.

It would not have been surprising if she had finally succumbed to the pressure.

As there was no urgent work to be done, she could afford to take the day off to rest.

Knowing how conscientious Winter was, Ellen gathered some pigments and headed towards the workshop.

The studio she ran was located in a narrow alleyway lined with small shops.

Ellen, who had never been particularly interested in other people’s affairs, had taken on an apprentice three years earlier.

“Winter Wood is exceptionally talented. The problem is that she has no connections in Vartz who can support her. As far as I know, her mother passed away, and her father is her only guardian. Oh, and she’s from a small rural town in the far south.”

It was the final remark of a Royal Academy of Arts administrator that first caught Ellen’s attention.

In short, her talent was too exceptional to overlook, which is why the Academy accepted her. However, despite her talent, no one was willing to take her on as an apprentice or guide her personally.

While the academy had changed with the times in some respects, its deeply conservative apprenticeship system remained largely unchanged.

After all, Ellen was the first woman in the academy’s long and distinguished history to earn full membership.

That alone spoke volumes.

Winter had no influential patron to support her.

She had no powerful family name to open doors for her.

And, perhaps most importantly in the eyes of many—

— she was a woman.

Everyone expected Winter to give up and go back home within a few months.

Yet whenever Ellen visited, Winter was always hard at work.

She was so diligent, in fact, that she often seemed more devoted to organising painting supplies and scrubbing floors than to improving her artistic skills.

A few days later, Ellen officially accepted Winter as her apprentice.

“Thank you for giving me this opportunity, Master. I’ll work harder than anyone.”

Just as she had promised on her first day at the studio, Winter displayed exceptional talent and unwavering dedication.

The exhibition that would mark a significant milestone in her artistic career was due to begin the following day.

Within two or three years, she would likely be more than capable of opening her own small studio.

Just as Ellen had settled into her chair, the front door’s hinges let out a discordant creak.

The sound echoed through the studio.

“Oh my, were you here in the studio? I thought you might have overslept.”

Turning her head absentmindedly, Ellen’s eyes widened when she spotted Winter wearing her work tunic.

“I’m sorry. I was in the back garden for a while.”

“Outside? In this weather?”

Confused, Ellen asked as she watched Winter bow her head.

The temperature was so low that it made your teeth chatter, even when you were wrapped up in a scarf and gloves.

On closer inspection, Winter’s reddened eyes and pale complexion did not seem normal.

Ellen walked over to her apprentice, who was gathering her painting supplies as usual.

“What happened, Winter?”

“Nothing happened, Master. I just stepped outside for some fresh air.”

Despite the calm answer, Ellen’s experienced eyes remained filled with suspicion.

Still, she knew Winter was not the type to hide things without reason.

“If you’re not feeling well, you should tell me.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Then finish up early and go home today. The exhibition preparations are done, and you have to pick up your father this afternoon, don’t you? Understood?”

Ellen decided not to pursue the matter any further and gently urged her hard-working apprentice away from her task.

When her master’s hand touched her shoulder, Winter felt a wave of emotion surge up inside her.

She swallowed it back with difficulty.

Even if she stayed, she doubted she would be able to work today.

“Thank you. I’ll leave after I put these away.”

Winter began to organize the painting supplies scattered around her.

Her eyes stung from lack of sleep.

She could barely remember how she had made it home the previous night.

Everything that Eden had said swirled chaotically through her mind.

‘Could he have mistaken someone else?’

‘Could all of that really be true?’

‘Then… if it was true, does that mean he knew all along and still chose to be with me?’

‘Since when?’

The sharp questions tore relentlessly through her broken heart.

Alongside them lingered a fragile hope that perhaps Eden had misunderstood something.

Yet despite all the uncertainty, one thing was undeniable.

Eden had calmly acknowledged his plans to marry someone else.

Suppressing the burning knot of pain in her chest, Winter took off her work tunic.

She needed to get outside.

She needed the cold air.

“I’ll be heading home now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“All right. I won’t be here this evening either, so take your time showing your father around the studio. Just imagine how happy he’ll be to see where his daughter works so hard.”

Winter’s steps stopped abruptly after those warm words of encouragement.

A sudden wave of dizziness hit her.

As she reached out to steady herself against the worktable, she knocked over several neatly arranged paint jars.

Dozens of glass containers tumbled to the floor.

Startled, Ellen shot to her feet.

“Winter! What’s wrong?”