No, to be precise, it wasn’t really her – it was the illusion of Dalia flickering before his eyes. 

Ever since the desire, the excitement, the fiery intensity in her gaze had completely faded, that illusion had occasionally appeared to him. Dalia, sitting in the garden, crying silently. She wasn’t screaming or wailing, just shedding endless tears in silent solitude. And as she began to unravel, like delicate threads coming undone, Curtis could no longer sit still. 

He stormed out of his office. 

“Duke! Duke! Where are you going, Duke?!” 

His assistant stood up in shock at his sudden movement, but he couldn’t follow him. His voice calling after him never reached his ears. 

Soon the rain began to clear and a faint rainbow stretched across the sky. Reaching out to Dalia, who was slowly fading away, Curtis stretched out his hand – but an illusion was just that, an illusion. Before he could even touch her, she vanished into the void. 

The veins on the back of his hand bulged against his clenched fist.

His lips, once tightly sealed, parted with a slow, aching movement, and from the depths of his being, a name escaped—a call heavier than any echo lost in the abyss.

“Dalia.”

Dalia Fraser. A name he had rarely spoken, even when his wife had been beside him. A name that now tasted like longing and regret on his tongue.

Like the fragile illusion that had flickered before his eyes, his voice barely lingered before dissolving into silence. He lowered his gaze to his empty hands, fingers trembling as if trying to grasp something long gone. And in that moment, the realization struck—not as a sudden revelation, but as something that had been forming, layer by layer, in the quiet corners of his mind.

A void called Dalia.

Her absence wasn’t just a hollow space in his daily life; it had burrowed deep into him, unnoticed at first, until the small tear in his heart had grown into something vast, something unbearable.

A cold mist slipped past his parted lips, as if his breath itself carried the weight of everything left unsaid. The sharp wind swirled inside him, clawing at the emptiness, rattling against his ribcage like a whispered grief that refused to be silenced.

***

“Again?”

“Yes. It was a polite refusal.”

“Isn’t it the same line every time?”

Yoris, who had raised his voice in frustration, immediately realised his mistake. With a hint of embarrassment, he straightened his posture and adjusted his collar as if to regain his composure.

“Still, I can’t give up. I must make the purpose of my visit clearer.”

His secretary and assistant, who had been listening in silence, almost blurted out, “Please, just give up.” But he held his tongue. He had been trained to respect his employer’s decisions – as long as they weren’t illegal or morally questionable.

The assistant swallowed his frustration and started writing another letter. By the time he reached the fourth, exhaustion had set in. 

Why go to all this trouble just to meet Duke Fraser? Soon, when he inherited the title of Count, their paths would naturally cross – no need to force it! 

However, as the assistant began to write the fourth letter, a thought occurred to Yoris. 

‘Hmm? Why do I have to meet him now? Well, it’s because… no, I just really want to meet the Duke. And… I have something to tell him.’ 

Though he quickly changed the subject in mid-thought, it was clear that the name Irvelyn, the woman of the Romand family, lingered underneath it all. 

As they say, love makes a person foolish.

The heir to the Diharman family he served had always been intelligent and composed. Yet he seemed ready to face any hardship to fulfil the wish of the woman he had fallen in love with at first sight. 

What could be done? A man who had always regarded marriage as nothing more than a strategic alliance had, for the first time, truly fallen in love. 

As the assistant stepped outside, he found himself contemplating the right words for his next letter – carefully crafting a message that might finally elicit a response. 

Meanwhile, Yoris, unaware that the assistant had left, remained lost in thought. 

‘I can’t let her down again.’

He ran a hand through his neatly combed hair, his thoughts drifting to Irvelyn. Her black hair, her pale face subtly shadowed by the light.

Perhaps because of her reserved nature, she was always overly aware of the gaze of others, making their conversations brief and fleeting. 

Still, Yoris had not forgotten the moments they had shared. From those conversations, he had picked up small, unintentional clues – fragments of truth that Irvelyn had let slip without realising it. And by piecing them together, he could say one thing for certain: 

Her past had not been as smooth as it seemed.

‘Sigh. I just want to do something to make her happy.’

Yoris really meant it – he wanted to make Irvelyn happy. She was trying to move forward, to leave behind an unhappy past and live with quiet resilience, but she was still struggling under the weight of other people’s eyes. He wished she could smile, just a little. It was a simple, familiar wish – one that anyone in love could have. 

And yet, for some reason, Yoris was utterly convinced that the key to her happiness lay in meeting Duke Fraser. 

Of course, Irvelyn had never explicitly told him that she wanted to meet the Duke. She had only mentioned it once, in passing, in a letter, simply asking if such a meeting was possible. And yet, somewhat irrationally, Yoris had come to believe that this meeting had to happen. 

It hadn’t always been his belief.

Yoris had not held this strange belief from the start. Like anyone pursuing love, he had taken small, thoughtful steps – preparing modest gifts to draw closer to Irvelyn and making an effort to keep their conversations going. 

But after only a few brief encounters with her, a single thought had taken root in his mind like a slowly spreading poison: Irvelyn had to meet Curtis. 

As expected, Yoris’ growing obsession was no accident – it was the result of the seeds Irvelyn had planted. She never had to directly ask for his help in arranging a meeting with Curtis, nor did she have to spend time coaxing him through obvious persuasion. 

Words, atmosphere and subtle gestures – when carefully woven together – had shaped his thoughts without him being aware of it. Manipulating someone’s mind wasn’t always a matter of force; sometimes it was as effortless as casting a spell. 

And love was the perfect spell for that.

“For my sake. For me. If you do that, I will be happy.” 

The spell was already cast. Though Irvelyn’s magic required an initial spark, once it had taken hold, controlling someone already under its influence was far easier than casting it in the first place. 

If her plan had worked – if the meeting with Curtis had gone as smoothly as it had before Dalia’s return – the enchantment would have been effortless. 

But… when you lose your teeth, you have to rely on your gums. 

Irvelyn wasn’t going to give up. She would continue to use Yoris to make this meeting happen.

If she pushed too hard, too fast, people would inevitably suspect that she had ulterior motives regarding Curtis. She had no choice but to proceed cautiously. 

Besides, with her progress completely blocked, there was no choice but to be patient. 

Two years had passed since her first misstep, and yet she still hadn’t caught a glimpse of Curtis Fraser – not even a strand of his hair! She was in no position to be picky, whether the opportunity was cold, lukewarm or tainted. Still, she kept her anger simmering within the walls of the Count of Romand mansion, waiting – like a snake in the grass – for the perfect moment to strike. 

And slowly, thanks to Yoris, her patience began to pay off. 

Restless, Yoris could no longer sit still. He paced the room before finally making up his mind to leave. 

He had already sent letters requesting a meeting and had been rebuffed again and again. Now it was clear that he needed a different approach. 

Unlike those who would simply give up or tell themselves that “things will work out”, Yoris, the heir of the Diharman family, refused to accept a dead end.

Knock knock.
“Come in.”

When permission was granted, Yoris quickly opened the door and faced his father, Count Diharman.

“Yoris? What is it?”

“I want to meet Duke Fraser.”

“Duke Fraser?”

“Yes.”

Count Diharman stared at Yoris with a displeased expression. Lately he had been persistently sending letters to the Duke Fraser family, and now this was the reason.

“Why are you saying this all of a sudden?”

“You may think it’s too soon, but haven’t I reached the age where I should take over the family?”

“Not yet. I’ve told you repeatedly. In a few years I will retire and you will become Count Diharman.”

“Having heard that, I feel even more strongly that I must meet Duke Fraser.”

Count Diharman put down his pen and closed his tired eyes.

“Tell me the reason.”

“I want to learn from Duke Fraser not only how to run a family, but many other things. There are many things I want to ask him personally. And most of all…”

Yoris paused for a moment, then looked directly at Count Diharman, his eyes burning with determination.