The soft sound of cloth gliding over the table echoed through the room. Midday light streamed through the half-open window, casting a narrow beam across the floor. Rais meticulously polished the bronze candlestick in the corner, though his thoughts were elsewhere. 

“Should I say something... or not?”

His hand paused. He glanced over his shoulder. 

Roven sat in his usual silence by the window, seemingly lost in thoughts unknown to anyone—or perhaps even to himself. 

Rais took a quiet breath, tightened his grip on the cloth, and hesitantly spoke: 

“The weather is quite pleasant today, sir.”

He paused briefly.

“If you'd like... you could step outside for a bit. Take a walk.” 

Roven slightly turned his head. His eyes, as calm and expressionless as ever, flickered with something unspoken. 

“Outside?” 

His tone resembled the rustle of dry leaves—neither angry nor excited. Just a question. 

“Yes... outside. The courtyard is sunny. A gentle breeze is blowing. It's a good day for a walk.”

Rais's face gradually brightened.

“I'll fetch you a warm cloak right away.” 

Moments later, Roven draped a dark cloak over his shoulders in silence. As he stepped out of the room, it felt as though a shadow had detached from the wall. Rais followed, his gaze fixed on Roven. 

“Does he truly remember nothing?”

The corridors felt unfamiliar to Roven. The stone floors were cold and lifeless, but the scent of freshly warmed earth filled the air. 

Upon reaching the open courtyard, a breeze caressed Roven's face. He stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. 

As if experiencing life for the first time. 

Rais smiled.

“Would you like to see the garden?”

Roven looked at him, slightly puzzled. 

“Garden?” 

“Yes, just beyond here. It's beautiful. I'm sure you'll like it.” 

Without a word, Roven nodded. They walked together. 

Upon reaching the garden, Rais stepped back. Roven moved forward slowly, standing among young trees and spring blossoms. The breeze played with his long black hair. His gaze settled on the purple flowers. 

“Beautiful...” 

That moment felt magical to Rais. After weeks, he finally heard a tone in Roven's voice that carried emotion. Subtle, but genuine. 

Roven reached out to touch one of the flowers, but suddenly: 

“Ouch...” 

Rais rushed forward.

“What happened? Are you alright?” 

He noticed a small drop of blood on Roven's finger. Concerned, he leaned in. 

“You need to be more careful... These are wildflowers; they have thorns.” 

Roven looked at him—a long, steady gaze. 

“What's your name?” 

Rais paused for a moment.

“Rais, sir. I'm a servant in this part of the castle.” 

Roven offered a faint smile.

“Thank you, Rais.” 

For the first time, Roven's lips curved into a small, warm smile. Rais felt as though he held his breath for a moment. 

“How could they call such a beautiful being a demon?”

Roven turned back to the flower, this time more cautiously. 

And Rais... for the first time, felt that perhaps it was hard to believe,

but maybe Roven wasn't what everyone thought he was.