As if time had carved a different path for itself here. I felt like a weightless leaf carried by the wind in a garden I had never visited before, surrounded by strange trees whose roots, nonetheless, stretched into my old world.

My parents, Duke Osman Valeska and Duchess Eleanor Valeska, showered me with an unblemished kind of care. It was not merely a familial duty but a warmth that extended like the glow of a candle on a stormy night, enveloping me in a tenderness I had never expected.

But Kyle… I had not met him again.

The few conversations I had were with his father, Uncle Dennis,

who seemed like an extension of his son. His sincere concern showed every time I was late in reaching out, and when I didn't take the initiative, he would call my father to ask about me.

That man was kind in a way that was difficult to describe, as if the world had never managed to taint his heart.

Silent Corridors and Grand Palaces

Over the past months, I had strengthened my bond with my father. I observed him closely, studying every movement and every glance, as if trying to decipher the man who stood at the pinnacle of one of the most powerful families in the Luminars Empire.

Our mansion was colossal—not just in size but in its overwhelming presence. It was said to be the most beautiful in the empire, earning the name "The Silver Swan Palace" for its royal grace and rare elegance.

My father's office was on the ground floor, near the guest hall, secluded like a fortress in the middle of a sea of marble corridors. I found an odd comfort in walking through those quiet hallways, as if the carefully polished stones whispered their ancient secrets to me.

That morning, I decided to surprise my father with something simple. I made his coffee myself—not perfect, but crafted by my own hands. Entering his office with light steps, as if stepping into a sacred realm, I greeted him warmly before placing the cup in front of him.

"Father, this is your coffee. I made it myself."

He looked at me for a moment, then smiled—a rare smile, one I seldom saw, but when it appeared, it lit up his face, breaking through his usual sternness.

"Have you decided to compete with the servants in their skills?" he asked teasingly, though his tone carried a gentleness.

"Maybe," I replied lightly, then picked up a stack of papers resting on his desk, my eyes scanning the lines with practiced precision.

I had been good at such tasks in my old world, so reading was not just about looking at words but about understanding the deeper intricacies of administration and politics.

"Father, shall I help you?"

He raised an eyebrow slightly, as if the idea had never crossed his mind. "And is my little daughter an expert in administration as well?"

I smiled confidently and pulled the papers toward me, my eyes scanning the details. Among the documents, a prominent tax report caught my attention, bearing the seal of the Royal Revenue Office.

"Father, this is an investment tax, isn't it?"

He lifted his head from his papers, interest flickering in his eyes. "Yes, but how did you know that?"

I began explaining the details as if I had studied the tax system for years. I spoke about how this tax was imposed to direct funds toward charitable projects and how investments in building orphanages and hospitals granted investors a certain percentage of tax exemption.

"This royal investment isn't just about money being paid; it's a promise to rebuild lives that have been shattered under the weight of poverty."

My father watched me in silence, his eyes gleaming with something I couldn't quite decipher—was it astonishment? Pride? Perhaps a mix of both.

After a moment, he sighed and said in a calm voice, "My dear, when did you learn all this?"

I chuckled softly, feigning innocence. "I watched you work, and it seemed easy."

"Easy?" he repeated, shaking his head with an amused smile. "If it were that easy, I wouldn't have spent years mastering it."

He glanced back at the documents and, in a lower voice, added, "Thanks to your skills, you've made my work much easier today—perhaps more than you realize."

Something warm spread through me. That small acknowledgment meant more to me than I could ever express.

"If you're going to oversee taxes, make sure to choose competent assistants," I said seriously. "Otherwise, we might lose a fortune."

"Of course, my dear. Administration is not a game, after all."

We worked together for more than three hours, the time slipping away unnoticed. There was something almost magical about those moments—the collaboration, the pride shining in his eyes, the sense of belonging to this place, to this family.

Maybe, just maybe, I was beginning to find my place in this world.

I threw myself onto the bed with heavy breaths. The day had been long, exhausting… I even felt as if my body had become heavier than it should be. I never realized that holding a pen and analyzing tax documents could drain me this much.

I closed my eyes for a few moments, allowing myself a short nap, but it wasn't long before a soft knock on the door pulled me from my drowsy haze.

— "My lady, the phone is for you."

I blinked slowly, trying to process her words through the fog of sleep still clinging to my mind. Rolling over lazily, I murmured in a drowsy voice:

— "Transfer it to my room line, please."

— "As you wish, my lady."

In the elegantly decorated room, the silk curtains swayed gently with the breeze, allowing the filtered sunlight to dance upon the floating dust particles. The clock hadn't even struck two in the afternoon, yet the day already felt far too long.

I dragged myself up, feeling as if I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders, and reached for the phone. Settling into the chair in a relaxed posture, I leaned my head back, fingers idly twisting the coiled phone cord.

— "Hello, who is this?"

Monica's cheerful voice came through, carrying her usual enthusiasm.

— "How are you, girl?"

I smiled weakly, lacking the energy to match her excitement.

— "I'm fine. And you?"

— "I'm great! But tell me, did you read my last letter, or did you leave it to wither away in your drawer as usual?"

I paused for a moment, my eyes drifting toward the drawer beside me.

I hadn't opened it yet. Maybe because I hadn't felt the need to, or maybe because I was afraid of what it contained.

— "No, I haven't read it… But since you reminded me, I'll do it now."

— "Good! But listen, I have something else to tell you. Get ready for tomorrow—we're going on a trip to the capital! Rebet and my fiancé, William, will be coming too. The four of us! It'll be a fun trip, like a little adventure."

I hesitated.

— "I don't know… I need to ask my father first. You know how he worries about anything concerning me."

— "Oh, don't worry about that! I already got his approval in advance! So, no excuses! And don't forget to read the letter!"

Before I could respond, Monica had already hung up.

I sighed, rubbing my face with my soft hands. Why does nothing ever go as I plan?

Slowly, I reached toward the drawer, pulling out the sealed letter. Finally, I opened it. I had no idea what awaited me inside.

Unfolding the letter, I began reading.

To my celestial angel, Aurora,

"I have never been a man who follows emotions blindly, but you, Aurora, turned my world upside down from the moment I first laid eyes on you…"

I froze.

My eyes followed the words, but it was my heart that started beating in an unfamiliar rhythm.

"That day was stormy, and I remember how the daylight slipped through the windows, reflecting off your platinum-white hair like moonlight on snow. You were fragile in my arms, your pale face like a porcelain painting, and your eyes—oh, your eyes—that celestial blue unlike anything I had ever seen, as if I were gazing through them into another world, one far purer than the one we live in."

I trembled slightly as I held the paper between my fingers. I never knew that Rebet harbored such feelings for me. This was unexpected… and it wasn't something I wanted.

"When you lost consciousness in our home, I carried you in my arms and felt something I had never experienced before—that deep, overwhelming desire to protect you, to keep you close, as if my hands had been created for that purpose alone. You were weak in that moment, yet even in your frailty, you were more beautiful than any painting ever displayed in the grand halls of palaces."

My heart clenched. I had known that Monica's brother cared for me, but not to this extent… not like this.

"Aurora, if I am to confess, then I can no longer deny what stirs within me. You are not just a fleeting presence in my life, but the light that illuminated its dim corners. And if fate has brought us together, let the moon bear witness—I will never let you leave my world."

I shuddered for a moment, then slowly folded the letter shut. These words did not belong to me… they should not belong to me.

I rose from my seat and walked toward the candle, my eyes fixed on the flickering flames before me. I didn't want to be a part of these emotions. I didn't want to be the reason someone else fell into the inescapable abyss of love.

Without hesitation, I tossed the letter into the fire and watched as it turned to ashes.

— "These romantic words are not for me, Sir Rebet…" I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible.

I watched the ashes scatter, yet an unfamiliar weight still lingered in my chest. It felt as if I had betrayed my own emotions, as if, unknowingly…

I was still a stranger to this world, and yet, I had received a confession.

But in the end, one thing remained certain…

"I will never betray Kyle, no matter what… Even if I spend my whole life merely watching him, I have no regrets."

But… was that the truth? Or was I simply deceiving myself?

At that moment, the evening breeze slipped through the window, playing with my platinum-white hair—just as Rebet's words had stirred something deep inside me, something I wasn't ready to face yet.