In Netherwell, time moved at a steady, unchanging pace.

Unlike the city, where the skyline changed day by day, Netherwell remained untouched by such transformation. Even as the seasons turned, little seemed to change.

Bella lived her days within that quiet rhythm.

She helped prepare meals and tidy the estate, read aloud to the Dowager Countess during her afternoon rest, and would retreat to the cabin at dusk to study by the light of a small lamp.

In Netherwell, where news from the outside world only arrived via the weekly newspaper, life felt almost entirely separate from everything beyond its borders.

It was peaceful.

There were no watchful eyes to guard against, nor any turbulent emotions to wear her down.

As she often did, Bella was reading aloud in the sunlit bedroom when she noticed the Dowager Countess slowly stirring from her nap. She gently closed the book.

“Shall I bring you some water?”

“Yes. Bring the medicine beside it as well.”

Looking somewhat refreshed, the Dowager Countess checked the time. She had gradually been increasing the length of her afternoon naps.

“Come sit here.”

After fetching the medicine, Bella sat in the chair beside the Dowager Countess’s bed at her quiet gesture. The older woman studied her in silence.

Bella was a girl who had once arrived at the estate with nothing but a single bag. She had come from Rosedale, looking fragile and as though she might shatter at the slightest touch.

She had been abandoned at an orphanage with no memory of her childhood. She was later transferred to the estate in Rosedale, where she was denied proper care. Her life had been marked by quiet misfortune.

The Dowager Countess was not a woman inclined to dote on a maid. And yet, she could not simply turn her away, either.

To her, the girl was like a small hangnail — an irritation that could not be overlooked, no matter how hard one tried.

“How old are you now?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Twenty-three… a little late, perhaps, but still a suitable age for marriage.”

The Dowager Countess nodded slowly.

As the girl had grown into a woman, she herself had grown older. Her bones and joints were worn down, and the heart that had troubled her for years was growing weaker with time.

Realizing that she only had a few years left, the Dowager Countess began preparing for the end of her life.

“When I was in Powell, I met a steward. He was diligent and upright in his duties. I found myself taking a liking to him. As it happens, he has a son about your age.”

She paused for a moment, as though weighing her words, before continuing.

“I’ve heard the boy takes after his parents: hardworking and responsible. He doesn’t squander his earnings — in fact, he’s saved enough to buy a house in the capital. He is pleasant to look at, and above all, he is respectable. There is a photograph in that drawer. Take a look.”

Bella, who had been listening in silence, opened the small drawer and carefully pulled out the photograph.

Dark skin. Black hair. Black eyes.

The man in the picture wore a bright smile beneath his neatly trimmed beard.

He was a stranger to her.

“He looks kind.”

“Doesn’t he? His mother is from the South, so he looks a little different, but he seems like a nice guy. I think a person’s bearing is the most important thing. Don’t you agree?”

Bella studied the black-and-white photograph. The broad-shouldered man did leave a favorable impression, as the Dowager Countess said. But Bella felt nothing in particular.

She hadn’t even begun to consider marriage.

“He seems like a good person, but I haven’t thought about marriage yet.”

“The steward said he would arrange a meeting with his son. I received word yesterday. He asked whether next week would suit.”

“What?”

Bella, who had been preparing to decline the Dowager Countess’s kindness politely, looked up in surprise.

“Go to the capital. I have already given them your answer.”

“But—”

“Even if you don’t intend to marry him, you should at least meet him. You never know. He might turn out to be a better match than you expect.”

Despite Bella’s flustered expression, the Dowager Countess did not relent.

“Will I not have the chance to see you married before I die?”

Bella may have been only a maid, but she had grown up under the Dowager Countess’s watchful eye — perhaps more closely than her own granddaughter. The older woman wanted her to build a proper family. At the very least, she wanted to see Bella’s difficult life turn around.

“If you’re not interested in him, you can refuse him.” But at least show yourself. The meeting has already been arranged. What would become of my dignity if you failed to appear?”

“I… Yes. I’ll go.”

Bella understood the Dowager Countess’s true feelings all too well, but she could not bring herself to refuse.

The idea of marriage still felt unreal to her. However, she did not want to disappoint her.

As the Dowager Countess had suggested, she would simply meet the man and decline if she did not wish to marry him.

Convinced of this, Bella accepted the photograph and the slip of paper bearing the man’s contact details.

***

After concluding his meeting and returning to the estate, Logan noticed an envelope placed on his desk.

There was no sender’s name, no identifying mark—only his own name written on the front.

Among the stack of correspondence, he picked it up first and turned to the butler beside him.

“Where did this come from?”

“I was only told it was sent from Rosedale. They said Your Grace would understand what it was if it was something you had requested.”

At the butler’s explanation, Logan immediately knew what the envelope contained.

“There may be something dangerous inside. May I open it first?”

“No. It’s fine. I know what it is. Leave.”

Without hesitation, Logan broke the seal on the envelope. As expected, it contained the documents he had commissioned — an investigation into Bella’s past.

Setting aside his scheduled work, he began reading the report.

The more he read, the more the photographs of the orphanage where she had lived, the Everett Count’s residence and the Netherwell estate revealed how she had been treated in each place.

He had only intended to help Bella find her parents. But the life recorded in stark ink across those pages was far harsher than could ever be conveyed by the word ‘tragic’.

It was an isolated life.

A lonely one.

Until Joshua arrived in Netherwell, Bella had always been alone.

Only now did he understand what she meant when she said that living without a name had never troubled her. If no one ever called out to you, perhaps such a life simply became normal.

Logan lifted one of the photographs — a portrait of a man he did not recognize. Yet his eyes did not rest on the man in the foreground.

They lingered instead on the background.

She was a maid with no childhood photograph of her own, reduced to nothing more than a blurred figure in someone else’s picture.

Her face was blurred and indistinguishable, appearing as little more than a shadow. The girl in the background appeared extremely thin, so plain and fragile that she seemed almost invisible.

Confronted with this version of his past — the withdrawn maid whose lack of self-worth had once quietly irritated him — Logan felt a sharp wave of discomfort.

However, the very details he wanted to learn—the date Bella had been registered at the orphanage and the reason she had been sent there—were gone. They had vanished along with the orphanage itself when it closed years ago.

The only new information the investigation uncovered was that Countess Everett—who was believed to have visited the orphanage often for charitable reasons—had in fact gone there only once.

It was on that single visit that she had taken Bella with her.

The report revealed little beyond what Vincent and Amelia had already told him.

Logan set the papers down and pressed his fingers to his temple as a dull throb signaled the onset of a familiar migraine.

How could there be so little?

Bella’s past seemed as though someone had decided on a conclusion first and then gathered only the details that supported it, discarding everything else.

The report was far too thin to encompass an entire life.

It left him with a quiet, unsettling sense that something was missing.

‘If only Bella could recover her memories, it would be resolved easily.’

He had not dismissed the possibility. Upon returning to the capital, he consulted the Fraser family doctor about Bella’s symptoms. However, even the doctor admitted that there was little hope of recovery if her memories had not returned after so many years — especially if they were from before the age of ten.

Swallowing his lingering unease, Logan took out the second set of documents enclosed with the report.

Unlike the first set, which detailed Bella’s personal history, these documents concerned the development of Rosedale and the Everett family who governed it.

Whenever he considered a site for a hotel, he conducted such investigations without exception. Even when it involved the family of a friend, he allowed no leniency.

He turned the pages one by one.

Then his hand stilled.

The orphanage that the Countess claimed to have taken Bella from —

— was listed among her assets.