Every morning, Elle would check the mailbox. She examined the sender’s name on each letter she received with mixed feelings—simply because Cassian had once said he would send her a letter.

That sense of guilt followed her everywhere, lingering all day since she felt she had humiliated someone. Sometimes she feared Aunt Moran might find it—even though the woman never checked Elle’s mail. If there was any letter for Aunt Moran, Elle would always hand it over.

But that day came when Elle returned from the town center—after delivering medicine ordered by a customer. She checked the mailbox and found an envelope and a piece of parchment tied with a string.

Just looking at the items made her tense. She placed them in an empty basket and covered them with a cloth before entering the cottage.

What she had received was a personal letter since there was no official castle seal—just a single letter C, which was enough for Elle to understand.

She locked her bedroom door, sat on the edge of her bed, and opened the letter.

Hello, Elle.

When this letter reaches you, I hope you’ll find it together with the parchment. But make sure no one else reads it.

Just follow the directions on the map. I’ll always be there at noon, so let’s meet.

“The Duke doesn’t even mention his name, as if I’d immediately know it’s him,” Elle sighed, untying the string and unrolling the parchment. “What is this? A forest map?”

Elle examined the carefully drawn map, showing the western edge of the forest. She had never ventured that far, afraid of getting lost—but now, the Duke had drawn an arrow pointing there.

“What could be there?”

While she was lost in thought, the sound of the back door creaking open startled her. Elle quickly gathered the letter and parchment, tucking them into a wooden drawer.

“Elle, are you home?”

“Yes, Auntie. I just got back.” She stood up, unlocking the door so Aunt Moran could see her.

“You must be tired. Go rest. I just came to drop off a basket of pastries before heading back to the castle.”

The woman’s voice came from the kitchen. Elle tied her hair back as she stepped out. The pleasant aroma drew her attention.

She looked like a delighted child as she unfolded the small linen cloth—the source of the sweet scent.

“Ah... berry pie and almond cookies.” A smile bloomed on her face. She always looked like this whenever she checked what Aunt Moran brought from the Duke’s castle.

“Your expression hasn’t changed since you moved here.”

“Because I love everything you give me, Auntie.”

“I know.” Aunt Moran smiled warmly. “Alright, I must go now. Don’t forget to lock the door and close the windows. It’s almost evening.”

“Yes, Auntie.”

The woman in a maid’s uniform waved before leaving through the back door. She had her own duplicate key since she sometimes returned late at night when Elle was already asleep—unwilling to wake her just to open the door.

Thinking about what she should bring when meeting the Duke tomorrow, Elle went to her private room—besides her bedroom, this was her special workspace for mixing medicine—where she often stayed up late when orders piled up.

Though smaller than her bedroom, it still held several pieces of special furniture she had bought for her work as an herbalist.

A tall wooden shelf stood in the corner, filled with glass bottles, clay jars, and linen bundles of dried herbs labeled with handwritten notes in quill ink.

A wide wooden table served as her workspace. Mortar and pestle lay upon it, tools for grinding roots, seeds, and leaves.

A copper cauldron hung by the fireplace, where she usually boiled her mixtures. Herbs like rosemary, sage, thyme, and lavender hung upside down from ceiling racks.

Elle pushed open the window beside her worktable, letting the summer breeze flow into the room. Sweat had already formed on her forehead.

She should have gone to bathe and changed into a light nightgown—summer could be exhausting.

“The Duke only asked for the herbal blend I used to treat his wound from the cursed wolf attack,” she muttered, gathering various ingredients into an empty basket. “Should I bring something else?”

She wasn’t exactly enthusiastic, but neither was she reluctant about meeting the Duke tomorrow. After all, she had been disrespectful, and Elle needed to make amends.

It didn’t take long for her to tidy up and move to the bathroom. After walking all around town that day, she deserved some rest.

Elle pulled down the brim of her straw bonnet. She decided to go into the forest after Aunt Moran had left for the Duke’s castle. Along with the herbal blend Cassian requested, she carried the parchment in her basket.

The girl followed the western edge of the forest, where a small stream—likely a tributary of the Zinx River—helped her navigate the surroundings easily. From time to time, she checked the parchment to ensure she was on the right path.

“Ugh! It’s too hot.”

Her straw bonnet only shaded her head, but the western edge was glaring under the open sun with little canopy—its heat stung her skin.

Elle paused, rolled up her sleeves, and crouched by the stream, cupping water into her hands to splash onto her face.

The clear, cool stream flowed down her face, tracing her neck before seeping into her blouse.

“This feels better… but am I close yet?” She looked ahead toward the dense oak, beech, and rowan trees. Their shade seemed to invite her forward.

She wasn’t sure how long she had walked along the stream, but the sun had climbed higher and harsher.

Elle’s legs began to ache. She couldn’t tell how far the map was leading her. Compared to her usual paths through the forest, this route was difficult to gauge—unless she traveled it often.

Once more, she checked the parchment, making sure she was still on the right course.

“Am I there yet?”

As she walked past the old trees, the sunlight no longer burned her skin, filtered instead through the thick canopy. She followed a narrow trail, removing her bonnet to let the summer breeze cool her sweat-damp neck.

Slowly, her golden eyes caught sight of a hut in the distance—half-hidden behind the massive trunk of an ancient oak that stood like a sentinel.

As she drew closer, the sight of a cottage erased her doubts. It was built from stone and roofed with wooden shingles—much like her own home.

Ivy crept up its walls, wildflowers grew freely in the yard, and the clearest sign of someone’s presence was a chestnut-colored horse grazing beside it—Vermel.

The Duke had even left its reins trailing on the ground, as though confident Vermel would never abandon him here.

Elle stood still, astonished that a cottage existed in the heart of the forest, hidden among the ancient trees.

Is this a hideout?
Why have I never seen it before while exploring?
When was it built?

So many questions filled her head, but only one person could give her the answers.

“So… is the Duke inside?”

First, she approached Vermel, picked up the reins, and tied them to a smaller tree trunk.

“Hello, Vermel. Sorry to disturb your lunch, I just wanted to make sure you’d stay here.”

The horse seemed indifferent, too focused on grazing. But when Elle turned her gaze elsewhere, she saw him—and her heart skipped a beat, her face flushing red.

“D–Duke…”

***