When Mrs. Roche asked her to stop by for a moment, Winter put down her charcoal stick without hesitation.

The salon was only a five-minute walk away, so she didn’t need to get ready.

After quickly checking she was presentable in the mirror, she headed down the familiar path — a route she could now walk with her eyes closed.

The wind brushed repeatedly against her cheeks, but wrapped up in her thick coat and scarf, she barely felt the cold.

The warmly lit Roche residence was easy to spot, even from a distance.

As she climbed the garden steps, the rough texture of the charcoal she had been holding only moments earlier lingered on her fingertips.

“Welcome. Mrs. Roche is waiting for you in the study.”

As soon as Winter stepped into the comfortably heated house, a maid approached with quick, light steps.

She made her way straight to the study at the back of the first floor.

A gentle knock drew a familiar voice from inside.

“You’re here? Come in.”

“Yes. Where’s Lily?”

The moment Winter sat down on the sofa, her first question was about Lily.

Mrs. Roche shook her head as if to say, Don’t even ask.

“She just fell asleep. She was sleepy much earlier, but kept insisting she wanted to play a little longer. It took quite a while before she finally closed her eyes.”

“I see. She’s still young, after all.”

Mrs. Roche picked up the teapot she had prepared earlier.

Warm steam rose like a shimmering haze above the teacups, which were adorned with intricate floral designs.

Winter looked around the spacious study.

Like its owner, the room was both cozy and refined.

Unadorned bookshelves stretched along the walls and a comfortable armchair sat in front of the fireplace, inviting people to lean back and relax.

The years had left a gentle mark on the room.

It was the kind of place where silence never felt uncomfortable.

“It’s gotten quite cold, hasn’t it? The truth is… there’s something I’d like to speak with you about in private.”

Mrs. Roche’s voice was as gentle as ever, but Winter did not miss the hesitation beneath it.

“Of course. Please, go ahead.”

Without rushing, Mrs. Roche began.

“A visitor came to the salon this evening. He wanted to purchase one of the paintings.”

“The one displayed in the second-floor exhibition hall.”

Winter listened with quiet curiosity.

She had entrusted the sale and exhibition of her paintings to the salon from the very beginning.

There seemed to be no reason for Mrs. Roche to bring it up with such seriousness.

“The visitor said he was the secretary to Duke Mayer. His name was Parker.”

At the mention of the name, Winter instinctively straightened her shoulders.

Parker.

It was a name she knew well.

During the time she had been with Eden, he was the person she had seen most often.

It would not have been an exaggeration to say that he was always by the Duke of Mayer’s side.

“He was polite, but very clear about his intentions. He said His Grace wished to purchase the painting and added that he didn’t want to place any burden on either the artist or the salon.”

Mrs. Roche recounted everything that had happened in detail.

Her tone remained calm and impartial.

Out of consideration for Winter, and in keeping with her wish to leave the decision entirely in her hands, she neither offered her own opinion nor omitted anything.

Winter lowered her gaze.

Even if Eden had recognized the painting, she could never have imagined that he would send Parker to buy it.

‘Why…’

‘Why did he want that landscape painting so badly?’

A wave of bewilderment caught in her throat, but when she spoke, her voice was as composed as ever.

“…So… what did you tell him?”

“I didn’t give him an answer right away. I wanted to hear what you thought first.”

Smoothing the folds of her skirt over her knees, Mrs. Roche leaned forward.

There was neither pressure nor urgency in her eyes as she looked at Winter.

Only the patience to wait for her answer.

“I want to respect your wishes completely.”

Winter gazed quietly at her blurred reflection on the surface of the rose-colored tea, then wrapped both hands around the teacup.

A peaceful silence settled over the room.

At first, she had simply been surprised.

But the more she thought about it, the clearer the answer became.

Winter believed the old saying that every painting eventually finds its rightful owner.

Once a painting had been released into the world, it no longer truly belonged to its creator.

Above all, she did not want to cause any unnecessary trouble for the salon or Mrs Roche.

“The painting is part of the salon’s exhibition.”

“The decision is entirely yours, Mrs. Roche.”

Her answer was calm yet resolute.

She had decided that refusing to sell the painting outright would suggest that she was still aware of Eden’s presence.

Mrs. Roche studied her quietly before a faint smile touched her lips.

“Even so, I wanted to hear your thoughts first, just in case. I may own the salon, but I’ll always choose to stand by your side, Winter.”

“I’m really fine.”

Even if Eden bought the painting, she should only see him as a customer who appreciates her artistic work.

There was a time when a single look from him could make her heart flutter, and a single word from him was enough to make her reveal all her feelings.

But that time is over.

Now, she wanted to make her own choices.

She wanted to protect her heart.

***

“These are the rescue records from the Eastern Railway accident.”

Parker placed a thick stack of documents on the large desk.

Gathering them had taken several days after Eden gave the order.

Even then, this had only been possible by making full use of the Mayer family’s influence and the efforts of their legal team.

Shortly after hearing of Winter’s death, the Duke also sent his legal adviser to the accident site.

However, by that time, Lindal Railway had already paid compensation to the bereaved family, and Miss Wood’s father had signed the death certificate.

According to the official records, all procedures had been completed.

At the time, there was no reason to suspect anything was amiss.

No one had gone so far as to compare the scattered records individually.

Consumed by guilt and despair, the duke was not in a state to notice the inconsistencies he can see now.

“I’ve cross-checked the compensation records issued by Lindal Railway, the admission and discharge records from the four hospitals that received the victims, and the rescue logs signed by the rescue team commander.”

As Parker continued his report, Eden scanned the densely packed documents before him.

“To begin with the conclusion…”

Parker delivered the news without hesitation.

“There is no record of Winter Wood anywhere.”

He continued before the silence could settle.

“However, there is an entry in the rescue log referring to ‘a young mother rescued while carrying a little girl.’ According to the report, she was a woman in her early twenties with brown hair and brown eyes. The child’s name was Lily.”

“She is the granddaughter of the owner of Roche Salon.”

“…”

“The little girl who was with Miss Winter in the square the other day.”

For the first time, a flicker of emotion crossed Eden’s rigid expression.

“However, the hospital admission records contain no mention of the child’s mother. After looking into it, we confirmed that Clara Roche, Mrs. Roche’s daughter, was listed among the deceased.”

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Without lifting his eyes from the documents, Eden slowly ran his fingertips along the edge of the paper.

Brown hair.

Brown eyes.

A woman rescued while carrying a little girl.

The owner of Roche Salon.

And…

Winter.

“What about the hospital charts?”

At Eden’s question, Parker turned to the next page.

This was the most important part.

His fingers tightened unconsciously as he flipped through the file.

“We couldn’t locate them. It appears there was considerable confusion in the paperwork due to the chaos following the accident. The nurse in charge said the chart was likely mixed in with other documents and eventually lost.”

“Lost?”

A frown creased Eden’s brow as he listened to the hospital’s careless handling of the case.

“Yes. According to one of the nurses, the woman who was rescued with the little girl was discharged a few days later. Besides the fracture in her arm…”

Parker, who had been speaking without hesitation, suddenly faltered.

“…She remembered that the woman had already miscarried by the time she was brought to the hospital.”

His voice dropped to a near whisper, revealing that even he found it difficult to speak those words aloud.

A broken arm.

A miscarriage.

The scattered pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place.

Eden read through the newly uncovered traces of Winter’s past several times.

Parker, who had remained silent until then, looked more serious than ever.

Acting on Eden’s suspicion that something about the case was amiss, he went back to the beginning and re-examined every detail.

The deeper he dug, the more inconsistencies he uncovered.

“Overall, there are far too many things that don’t add up. It wasn’t just the nurse. The rescue workers said that the aftermath of the accident was handled unusually quickly, too. They were under strict orders from higher authorities, leaving them with no time to properly verify what had happened at the scene.”

Eden finally looked up from the densely printed documents.

“Go on.”

“The compensation process, in particular, was completed with unusual speed. It appears that compensation was issued almost immediately, even for passengers whose bodies were never recovered, after nothing more than Lindal Company’s internal review.”

“Who signed the authorization?”

The question came swiftly.

Without hesitation, Parker answered.

“According to the paperwork, it was Crispin, the operations manager at Lindal Railway.”

“…What about the railway company’s internal records?”

“They’ve been classified as confidential. There’s no way to access them through official channels. If you permit it, Your Grace, I’ll contact the people involved and investigate what really happened.”

Parker waited for the Duke’s approval.

They would have to proceed with caution to avoid alerting the Count, who owned the Lindal Railway.

The Count’s family had once been in marriage negotiations with the Duke, so there was every reason to act with the utmost caution.