There were no more obstacles like her, so he could just hold Irvelyn’s hand and have a nice wedding, right? Ah, is it because he doesn’t love her? Or is it because he’s never even met her? 

Her head felt like it was going to explode. No, it was rattling so much that she thought it would be better if it just burst. 

No. He may not have remarried, but Curtis must have forgotten all about her. 

He’s the kind of man who doesn’t bother to remember unnecessary things. He never paid attention to his wife when she was alive, so he wouldn’t suddenly care about her absence now. 

Of course, every single one of Dalia’s assumptions was completely off the mark, but there was no way for her to know that at the moment.

While Dalia suffered alone – tortured by her thoughts, alternating between fear, impatience, brief relief and then fear again – Delfion watched. 

Delfion watched her all the time, but never asked her anything. 

Why had she suddenly grown so pale, almost deathly white, and staggered after hearing his story last night? 

Why was she driving the horses so recklessly fast today? 

She didn’t seem inclined to talk about it, so he didn’t pry. 

But he was curious.

Dalia Fraser. The Duchess who was supposed to have died in a tragic accident. 

But she had spent two years in seclusion in a temple. 

Not just any temple, but one where silent meditation was practised and the inhabitants never even showed their faces to each other. 

And now, instead of going to the Duke’s estate, she was travelling to Gruy territory. 

She had always been like that, but today she drove the horses even faster, like someone being hunted. 

She almost seemed… like a fugitive. 

As Delfion followed the flow of his thoughts to this conclusion, faint wrinkles formed at the corners of his slightly sunken eyes.

A runaway? No, given the circumstances, it certainly seemed that way. 

But did she have a reason to run away? 

More importantly, who was she running from? 

His gaze, filled with one question after another, landed on Dalia’s rounded shoulders, tensely raised as if on high alert. 

“Whoa, whoa… Phew. We’ve arrived.” 

As Delfion had said, it wasn’t long before the two of them reached their destination – Gruy territory. 

An area that was neither impossibly far from the capital, nor particularly close.

It wasn’t particularly fertile land, nor did it boast a rich mine, but it was known as the home of the Gruy family – a lineage older than the Empire itself. 

“Then I suppose this is where we part ways.” 

At Dalia’s words, Delfion didn’t immediately agree. 

“Our journey together ends here, so that would make sense, but… Dalia.” 

“Yes?” 

“It’s not a habit of mine, nor does it have any particular meaning.” 

“Pardon?” 

“While we’re here, could we at least exchange greetings from time to time?”

There was a quiet desperation in his slightly sunken eyes, his drooping eyebrows added to the effect, and even his voice was thick with sincerity. 

Dalia, whose mind had been occupied by a single thought, found herself thinking for a moment, ‘What is this?.’ 

“It’s hard to believe there’s no other meaning behind it.”

At her blunt reply, Delfion waved his hands frantically. 

“No, no! I just want to be friends! Friends!” 

He hesitated before adding, “Ah… asking for friendship at my age feels a little strange, doesn’t it? Still, I don’t want to let you go just like this.”

A man as tall as he was, his shoulders slumped, his face flushed as he fidgeted anxiously – it wasn’t exactly a dignified sight. 

And yet, for some reason, seeing Delfion like this made Dalia smile. 

The thoughts that had been pressing down on her, making her feel like her head was going to burst, seemed to lighten, if only for a moment. 

For the first time since she had met Delfion, she smiled. 

Her emerald green eyes curved slightly, a faint line formed at the bridge of her nose, and her red lips parted slightly. 

“All right. It’s all right. I won’t misunderstand.” 

There was a hint of laughter in her voice, and Delfion found himself unable to respond.

He stared at Dalia without blinking. 

The moment she smiled at him, an intense scent of golden tulips seemed to burst at the tip of his nose. 

The faint scent that had always lingered subtly around her suddenly rushed in, hitting Delfion in the chest with a resounding thud. 

Noticing his slightly dazed expression, Dalia reached out to shake his hand. 

“Friends. Not a bad idea, is it?” 

“Ah, um, well… Ah, if you could just forget I ever mentioned the whole ‘friends’ thing…”

Caught off guard, Delfion took the small, soft hand Dalia had offered, his face flushing a deep red. 

He quickly lowered his head, trying to hide the confusion in his expression. 

Just now… that was a bit dangerous. 

Unlike Curtis, Delfion understood exactly what her smile – which had lightly touched his heart – had meant to him at that moment. 

What he hadn’t realised was that the moment he’d called her dangerous, he’d already put his foot in it. 

Of course, Dalia did not notice the complexity in Delfion’s expression, nor did she realise that she had smiled at him. 

She simply saw him – the esteemed owner of the Ackman Trading Company – struggling with this pitiful habit of his and found it somewhat unfortunate. 

“If you tell me where you are, I’ll send you a letter first.” 

Feeling sorry for him was one thing, but openly revealing that she was Dalia Gruy was quite another. 

At her words, Delfion nodded willingly, shaking the hand they were still holding lightly. 

“Then I look forward to working with you in the future. I’m really looking forward to your letter with Dalia.”

“Do friends ever say things like that?” 

“Th-That… It was just a habit.” 

As Delfion’s shoulders slumped, Dalia withdrew her hand from his and met his gaze briefly. 

They’d crossed paths three times by chance, ended up travelling together, and somehow become friends along the way – but it wasn’t that bad. 

Well, this kind of relationship would end when Delfion met Irvelyn and fell in love. 

Or maybe by then she would be comforting him as a friend, helping him through the pain of unrequited love. 

Lost in thoughts of a distant future, Dalia let out a deep sigh.

The problem wasn’t some distant future that hadn’t arrived yet. 

The real problem was the future she had already experienced before her return – the one that *should* have come, but hadn’t. 

But… was that really a problem? 

As long as Curtis didn’t come looking for her, there was nothing to worry about. 

But how could she know when he might? 

She couldn’t go on living like this, constantly choking on fear, jerking awake in panic as she had so often done in the temple. 

How had it come to this…?

No matter how much she thought about it, her mind kept circling back to the beginning, and no clear solution came to mind. 

As she walked, lost in thought, Dalia suddenly stopped. 

She hadn’t been paying attention to her surroundings, just moving forward, but somehow, as if guided by muscle memory, she had arrived in front of her house. 

She stared silently at the Gruy mansion, which stood as unchanged as ever, before shifting her steps towards an entrance known only to direct descendants. 

Through a narrow path where layers of ivy had grown so thick that the original wall was no longer visible, she came to a place where there was no sign of an entrance at all. 

Without hesitation, Dalia reached out and grabbed a single leaf from among the countless vines.

To the untrained eye, the leaf was indistinguishable from the rest, but to Dalia, the mechanism that unlocked the entrance was perfectly clear. 

Grumble- 

With the sound of stone scraping against stone, an opening appeared, just large enough for a single person to pass through. 

Beyond the entrance was only a pitch-black passage, but Dalia felt a deep sense of relief as she stepped inside. 

“Phew.” 

Guided by the faint light, she made her way through the corridor, before unconsciously swallowing dryly and suddenly stop. 

Behind that door… her father would probably be waiting.

No, at this hour it was time for tea – her mother would probably be there as well. 

Staring at the seemingly impenetrable wall that marked the end of the passage, Dalia ran her fingers along the surface until she found a stone engraved with a particular pattern. She pressed it firmly. 

Creak. Creak. 

The sound of interlocking gears echoed as light seeped into the dim corridor. 

Blinking against the sudden brightness, Dalia slowly adjusted her gaze – only to meet the eyes of her father and mother, both staring directly at her. 

For a while, none of them spoke. The three of them just stood there, looking at each other in silence. 

Then Dalia’s dry lips parted and a slightly cracked voice slipped out.

“I’m… back!” 

Her voice began harshly, then faltered in the middle, as if something had caught in her throat, before ending in a muffled, uncertain tone. 

But the reply came immediately. 

“Welcome home.” 

“Welcome, my daughter.” 

Their daughter, whose funeral had already been held, had suddenly appeared without warning. 

But the Count and Countess of Gruy showed little reaction. 

As Dalia had expected, her parents had merely paused to tilt their teacups and set them slowly on the table. 

The Count of Gruy – her father – gestured towards her as she stood awkwardly. 

“What are you doing? Come, sit down.”