A few days later, Logan went to visit Bella.

This was after he received reports that her health was deteriorating the longer she stayed at the hotel.

“…Your Grace?”

“Prepare to go out. We’re leaving.”

Although it had initially been done for her safety, he had come to the conclusion that confining Bella to such a small space was akin to t*rture. He carved time out of his already busy schedule to make room for the outing.

To avoid public attention, he chose the ducal estate on the outskirts of the capital.

“I didn’t know a place like this still existed in the capital.”

After stepping down from the carriage, Bella slowly spun around to take in her surroundings.

As the first city to undergo industrialization, the capital had grown at an astonishing rate. Tall buildings and concrete roads now dominated the landscape, leaving little space for nature.

But this place was different.

A gentle hill rose at its center. Beyond that, wide, open fields stretched out and a narrow path wound its way into a small forest. Untouched by development, this privately owned land had retained its natural beauty.

Bella drew in a long, steady breath.

The scent of earth and grass lingered in the air, and the wind whispered softly through the trees. For a brief, aching moment, it felt as though she had returned to Netherwell.

“You’ll like it even more if we go further in.”

Logan led the way, guiding the visibly cheered-up Bella deeper into the estate. She followed just a step behind him.

Soon, she began to move around freely, pausing to examine insects clinging to tree trunks and lingering wherever wildflowers bloomed. Although she remained aware of his presence, something quiet shifted. Rather than looking like a maid trailing her master dutifully, she now looked like a guest sharing the afternoon at his side. The change was subtle yet unmistakable.

Logan slowed his pace to match hers, giving her space to wander without feeling hurried.

Bella, who had once been guarded and wary around him when they reunited months ago, gradually began to relax. As her defenses lowered, her curiosity surfaced, and she began to ask more frequent and natural questions.

“I heard that Your Grace attended university with Joshua.”

“I enrolled with Vincent. He studied law. I studied business.”

“Have you heard the legend about the Weeping Maiden statue? They say that if you kiss the statue, you’ll find true love before you graduate. Do you believe that, Your Grace?”

Bella asked, her eyes shining. When she spoke of the statue’s legend, her expression was as innocent as a child’s belief in fairy tales.

“No.”

Logan answered firmly, meeting her expectant gaze.

“The love of a thousand years.”

The moment he heard the phrase, he understood. Joshua must have embellished the story, unwilling to admit that the original legend promised men they would meet a beauty born from their deepest desires.

Even putting such tales aside, Logan had never believed in superstitions like destined love.

Having been raised at the heart of high society, he had learnt how to get what he wanted from others. How often to smile. How much kindness to show. What benefits could be gained from maintaining a connection? He had learnt how to win favor in theory, and he measured the value of every interaction against the advantage it might bring him.

No one understood the value of what he possessed better than he did. Because he understood its weight, he knew exactly how to wield it to get the results he wanted.

Thus, rather than clinging to non-existent legends or fleeting emotions, he trusted the outcomes of his own choices and experiences.

Reality came before emotion.

He had believed he would never be swayed by something as intangible as fate — until he met someone who made him change his mind.

Walking along the path, Logan suddenly stopped.

His gaze fell upon a field below a low hill, where white wildflowers swayed gently in the early summer breeze.

“Wow… They’re clovers.”

Bella crouched at the edge of the field. Lowering her head as if searching for something, she carefully examined the leaves between the blades of grass.

“Did you know? Four-leaf clovers are said to bring good luck.”

Speaking with unexpected seriousness, she sifted through the greenery. A memory surfaced — something she had once read in a book.

Among clovers that typically bore three leaves, there would, on rare occasions, be one with four. Due to their rarity, people believed that finding one would bring great fortune.

‘You probably don’t believe this either, Your Grace.’

Murmuring to herself, Bella continued her search.

Logan watched from behind her as she combed through the grass like a child, utterly absorbed. Seeing Bella, who must have felt stifled after being indoors for so long, become so animated eased some of his concern.

“Found it!”

A moment later, Bella sprang to her feet.

Holding the small leaf as though it were a treasure, she carefully extended it toward Logan.

“I’ll give it to you, Your Grace.”

“You keep it. Didn’t you say it brings good luck?”

Logan declined, recalling how long she had crouched there searching for it.

But Bella shook her head, smiling.

“That’s why I’m giving it to you. I hope good luck always finds you, Your Grace.”

Her words were not calculated. There was no hidden intention.

They were simply a kind wish that Logan, who had saved her and continued to help her, would be fortunate.

Seeing her sincerity, Logan accepted the four-leaf clover.

As they passed the slender stem between them, their hands brushed.

“Ah— I’m sorry.”

Startled by the warmth of his cool fingers, Bella quickly pulled her hand away. The clover slipped from her grasp before she could give it to him and fell into the grass below.

“Oh— where did it go?”

Feeling flustered, Bella crouched down again to search for the four-leaf clover. Perhaps because she was flustered, she found it difficult to distinguish it from the other leaves.

At that moment, Logan leaned down and picked up the leaf that had fallen near his feet.

“I’ll make sure to keep it safe.”

Taking a small notebook from his jacket pocket, he carefully placed Bella’s four-leaf clover between its pages.

***

They continued walking across the open field. When they reached the top of a gently sloping hill, they could clearly see the capital in the distance below them.

They sat side by side at the hill’s highest point.

Bella’s hands were full of flowers that she had gathered with Logan’s permission. There were so many that her small fists could not hold them all, and Logan found himself carrying a few stems, too.

Sitting atop the hill, where a cool breeze drifted softly around them, Bella began weaving the flowers into a wreath.

Logan watched as she lost herself in the task. Although she was still faintly aware of his presence and slightly awkward about being alone with him, once she concentrated on something, she forgot he was even there. He found this strangely captivating.

Unaware of his gaze, Bella hummed quietly to herself as her skillful fingers intertwined the stems. A purity that had not yet been worn away by the world lingered on her lowered, focused face.

In that quiet moment, the bright voice of a child echoed faintly in Logan’s memory.

“Ta-da! It’s a wildflower wreath. How is it? It’s pretty, right? Should I give it to you, young master?”

Before his eyes appeared the image of a girl holding out a completed wreath to him, and a boy reclining against the hill.

“A wreath? What nonsense. Do I look like some brat to you? Men don’t do things like that.”

“Then how about a bracelet?”

“I said no.”

“Then put it on Isabella.”

When young Logan refused, the girl who had forced the wreath into his hands leaned forward insistently.

A wreath.

“Who taught you how to make one?”

The old memory that had surfaced prompted Logan to ask.

“My mother. Every spring, she used to make flower wreaths for me— …huh?”

Bella answered without hesitation, but did not finish her sentence. The movement of her hands, which had been weaving the stems together, suddenly stopped.

“My mother…”

Her eyes trembled faintly.

‘My mother made wreaths for me?’

Her memories of her mother were hazy, so why did those words come so easily?

For a moment, something seemed to rise to the surface. But when she tried to grasp it and bring it fully into her memory, it scattered like mist.

Bella lowered her gaze to the wreath in her hands. The laughter that had lit up her face moments ago faded, leaving an inexplicable emptiness behind.

Logan waited, giving her time to retrieve the memory.

“I’m sorry. I must have been mistaken for a moment. When I had nothing to do in Netherwell, I used to play alone in the forest, making wreaths. Now that I think about it, I probably learned it then.”

Unable to recall anything else, Bella forced a smile as she finished speaking.

She lifted the corners of her mouth, pretending to be fine.

But beneath that smile, Logan could see the emotion she was trying to hide.