The decisive factor in Gilia’s defeat in the recent war had been Ryan. Right before the final battle, he had discovered how to decode the enemy’s cipher.

Thanks to this, the Albion army realized that Gilia’s troop movements were a ruse. They quickly withdrew all forces, then moved alongside Gilia’s advancing army and managed a final surprise attack.

They even targeted the unit with Gilia’s crown prince and succeeded in capturing him as a prisoner.

“You bastard! One day I’ll tear you apart with my own hands!”

Even while in captivity, the Gilian crown prince threw aside all dignity, raging and cursing at Ryan.

His glare had been so murderous that the soldiers nearby, despite his royal status, kept their guns trained on him.

After he was returned to his country in a prisoner exchange, rumors spread that the crown prince would grit his teeth and recite every curse he knew whenever Ryan’s name was mentioned.

Someone like that would hardly have let go of his grudge against Ryan, even now that the peace negotiations were over.

‘Both sides are a nuisance.’

Ryan felt a deep sense of disgust rising from within.

Then, suddenly, he realized something.

When he’d been in the capital, he had grown numb to everything, weary of life itself, as these feelings of disgust would wash over him at the slightest provocation.

That hadn’t really changed after coming to Blissbury.

This quiet manor had cleared away distractions and forced him to focus on himself. For Ryan, that had only made things worse.

The thoughts that filled his mind weren’t idle worries, but a deep sense of doubt about his own nature.

Contrary to Baron Stanford’s expectations, his condition had actually worsened, to the point that he could barely eat.

‘When did I start eating again?’

Ryan soon remembered exactly when that was.

As if he could ever forget.

He could still clearly picture Eloise, happily eating apple pie by herself.

Not caring about the crumbs, her mouth wide open, munching on a pie stuffed full.

For the first time since coming here, Ryan had felt hunger and an appetite.

Though he’d struggled for quite a while after that, the fact that he’d eaten something that day helped him gradually recover.

And when he truly began eating again…

“Ha.”

He remembered it was the day Eloise had dined at Blissbury.

That was the day he’d completely forgotten his boredom.

From the moment Eloise came to Blissbury to announce Mr. Surberton’s absence, Ryan had forgotten what it was like to be bored.

He liked Eloise Surberton. Liked her as a woman.

Ryan was startled by this realization, now so clear in his heart.

He had never experienced this kind of feeling before in his life.

“Eloise Surberton…”

Ryan murmured her name again. Had he ever called someone’s name so slowly, savoring each syllable?

Strangely, her name seemed to have a fragrance and a taste, and he found himself repeating it over and over.

Soon, he felt his nape grow warm. His heart beat faster, and his lips kept drying out.

It was as if he were ill—his body reacting uncontrollably—yet he didn’t mind at all.

It felt like floating in warm water.

Ryan sat in a daze for a long time before forcing himself to look back at the letter.

If he stayed like this, he’d end up sitting there like a fool until sunrise. He needed to do something—anything—to snap himself out of it.

That’s why I deliberately sent the letter in secret. Through the lieutenant’s younger brother, that brother’s wife, that wife’s cousin, that cousin’s maid, and even the errand boy the maid called over from the street.

Perhaps it passed through hands I don’t even know about.

I wonder where the postmark will end up coming from.

In any case, I have no real evidence for these feelings. As you know, it’s common for people like us to get these suspicions after a war.

Even my doctor said I was just being oversensitive, which embarrassed me greatly.

A wry smile appeared on Ryan’s face.

As Baron Stanford said, after the war, there were many soldiers who claimed they were being watched or followed. Doctors said it was a mental illness caused by excessive wartime stress.

Especially for people like Baron Stanford or Ryan, who always had to worry about wiretapping or surveillance, it was even more common.

But Ryan didn’t think the baron’s instincts were just a feeling. If he sensed something, there was probably a reason.

Then Ryan looked at the end of the letter.

Don’t even think about using this letter as an excuse to come back to the capital. Just write back and tell me you’re doing well.

Ryan gave a crooked smile at that line.

As the baron said, normally he would have immediately decided to return to the capital after reading this letter.

But not now.

Even though he believed the baron’s suspicions were not just nerves, Ryan had no intention of returning to the capital.

‘At the very least, I should see the party through.’

Ryan let out a small laugh at the thought.

He knew. The party was just an excuse. Even without it, he would have stayed here. He…

Again, the image of Eloise he’d imagined flashed through his mind.

Her dancing with more energy than usual, clapping hands to the music, spinning around the room.

It was a sight he dearly wanted to see.

After holding Baron Stanford’s letter for a long time, Ryan folded it and hid it deep in his desk drawer, then got up.

He thought about writing a reply right away, but now didn’t seem the time.

He strode quickly out into the hallway, as if he had something urgent to do.

Turning his head, he saw light spilling from a half-open door at the end of the corridor. A smile spread across his face.

That was the room Eloise used.

Lately, she’d been busier than ever, always working late into the night. It seemed tonight was no exception.

Ryan hurried his steps. If she wasn’t asleep yet, maybe they could talk for a bit.

Of course, as always, when he entered, Eloise would frown and look at him as if to ask what nonsense he’d come to say this time.

Ryan liked that Eloise looked at him that way.

She always smiled sweetly at everyone else, but only ever pouted and acted curt with him.

“Ahem.”

Standing in front of her door, Ryan cleared his throat loudly on purpose.

She probably didn’t have any documents to hide from him, but even so, it was only right to give her a chance to tidy up anything she might not want others to see.

After a few more coughs, Ryan knocked lightly on the door.

“Eloise?”

By now, she should have told him to come in, but there was no response from inside.

Thinking she might have stepped out for a moment, he peeked in and clicked his tongue.

Inside, Eloise was asleep, leaning back on the sofa.

Had she been reviewing something right before falling asleep? She still held a sheet of paper in her hand.

“Eloise.”

Ryan called to her from the doorway. But her tightly closed eyes didn’t move at all.

Realizing she was sleeping more deeply than he thought, Ryan hesitated for a moment.

It was an unthinkable breach of propriety to enter a lady’s room while she slept. In fact, “breach of propriety” was too mild—it would be shameless.

He knew he should close the door and leave…

‘But I really ought to wake her and tell her to sleep in her bed.’

Lately, Eloise had been staying up much too late. At this rate, she might collapse before the party even began.

Ryan approached quietly, stopping a few steps away to look at her.

As he thought, she didn’t look well. Her complexion was paler than a few days ago, and her skin seemed rougher. The dark circles under her eyes looked deeper, too.

‘She really should rest.’

But during the day, Eloise was busy all over Blissbury, moving as if she’d been born to manage the place.

Ryan decided that when he saw Baron Stanford, he would tell him just how much Eloise truly loved and cherished this manor.

That way, if Mr. Surberton ever retired due to age, Eloise could help manage the place.

At that moment, Eloise slowly began to open her eyes. Her long lashes fluttered, and as her eyelids lifted, her round green eyes reflected him.

The moment Ryan saw those round green eyes, focused solely on him, he thought—

He wanted to see this sight for the rest of his life.