The summer sun blazed fiercely in the sky, its brightness so intense that anyone who dared to look directly at it would find themselves momentarily blinded. A young boy, his tousled hair shimmering like spun gold, urged his stallion forward along a narrow, winding pathway carved into the rugged mountainside.

Behind the boy, five men, faces etched with anger, pursued him down the treacherous path, their shouts barely audible over the pounding of hooves and the rustling of the wind.

Upon reaching the end of the pathway, the boy found himself trapped by an unexpected dead end. For before him loomed a towering wall, its rough surface obscured by a tangle of thick vines adorned with vibrant and small orange pumpkins the size of tangerines. The air was heavy with the earthy scent of decaying leaves and the faint rustle of unseen creatures.

Realizing there was no way to turn back, the boy dismounted his horse and made his stand. With a steely resolve, he unsheathed his sword, its blade catching the sunlight as he braced himself, ready to confront the enemies who awaited him.

"Nowhere to run now, eh, pretty boy?" One of the men taunted, a malicious sneer on his rugged face when they finally reached the wind-swept peak. With a swift motion, they jumped off their steeds and unsheathed their swords at him.

The boy gripped his sword tightly as the group closed in around him, smirking as if to taunt them. Despite being at a disadvantage, he bravely fought off his attackers and knocked them down one by one till he was the only one standing.

Thinking that he had defeated all his enemies, the boy slid his sword back into its sheath as he glanced down at the men lying on the floor. A sly grin spread across his face as his chest heaved from the exertion of battle. He felt a sense of gratification from his victory against the odds.

Unbeknownst to him, hidden among the thick, twisted vines nearby was one last adversary who had stowed away mid-battle, lying in wait for the perfect moment to strike. By the time the boy realized that only four out of the five men that had chased him were on the ground, the man lunged at him, dagger in hand, and stabbed him in the back.

Surprised by the sudden attack, the boy fell to the ground. He clenched his wounded shoulder as blood soaked his clothes and glared at the man.

"Got you now, eh! You need to watch your back if you're gonna be all high and noble, boy!" The man snickered and kicked away the boy's sword before he could reach for it.

Right as the man lifted the dagger high, ready to deliver the final blow, a sharp whistling sound sliced through the air, causing him to freeze in his tracks.

*whistle*

The man looked up, his attention drawn to the towering peak above him right as a dark figure hurtled downward. The boy watched in awe as the figure soared through the sky with breathtaking grace and, in the blink of an eye, land squarely on top of the man with an impact that knocked the breath from his lungs.

"!"

The figure stood up, dusted off its baggy clothes, and turned towards the boy who had been staring the whole time in a mystified daze, mouth agape. From the looks of it, he seemed to have long forgotten the pain in his shoulder or his near brush with death.

The figure extended a hand to the boy. At that moment, a strong gust of wind swept across the peak, blowing down the figure's hood and causing what appeared to be long strands of silver to flow in the air.

"You alright?"

"No..." The boy whispered, his eyes glazed over as if he were lost in a dream.

Narrowing his golden eyes, he strained to catch a better glimpse of his savior's face, which was obscured by the sunlight. He reached for the outstretched hand, feeling a surge of warmth as his vision gradually became clearer and the person in front of him came into focus.













"Your Grace"

Edward lifted his face at the call of his name. Cold water cascaded down his refined cheeks, mingling with the dark strands of his raven hair. His reflection fell upon the basin of water, showing a blurred visage between the floating ice cubes. The distorted image flickered like a phantom caught between reality and dreams.

Edward raised his gaze to the mirror mounted on the wall. Ruby-red eyes, vivid and penetrating, stared back at him almost as if they could peer directly into the depths of a person's soul, revealing their innermost thoughts and feelings.

"Lady Layton is requesting an audience. She has sent a maid with a card." Ezra stood by the doorway, daring not to step into the bathroom as he spoke.

From years of working for the Young Duke as a member of the Dark Wolfs, he knew by instinct to thread between the lines delicately at times. Today was one of those days when the Young Duke seemed out of sorts, much like the times when they chased after the missing Duchess's shadow.

In Ezra's hand was a signed card containing a letter addressed to the Young Duke from the guest staying at the southern wing. Although he had not read the card himself, he knew what the contents held. It was a letter requesting an audience at a time of convenience.

Ezra already knew what the response would be since this was, after all, the fifth time in the week that Lady Layton had dispatched a maid to request an audience, only to have that request turned down.

Running a hand through his wet hair, Edward stepped out of the bathroom and took the towel Nathaniel offered him. He made his way to the reception area and paused, his gaze falling on the slightly ajar bedroom door.

"Her Grace is resting by the northern garden. Mikhael is with her." Nathaniel reported having grasped the meaning behind his action.

A faint smile crept onto Edward's lips. The mere presence of Angelica beside him was the only thing that brought him comfort amidst the chaos swirling in his mind. However, that smile didn't last for long as it vanished when he listened to Nathaniel's next statement.

"We received news from the Imperial Palace. His Majesty has reached a decision."

Meanwhile, outside, Misty hesitantly glanced ahead, hoping to catch a glimpse of something in the least. The Knights of the main house, where the Young Duke resided, had blocked her way at the end of the corridor before she could even catch sight of Edward's room.

It had been more than an hour since she had given the card the Saintess had entrusted her to deliver to the Young Duke, and Misty knew that she would be earnestly waiting for a reply. For a devout follower of Theodore like Misty, making the Holy Saintess wait felt traitorous.

Misty considered herself fortunate to be assigned to her serve someone as kind and gentle as Helen. Despite being a noble woman, Helen treated Misty and all the people serving her as equal. She was different from all the other haughty nobles Misty had seen so far.

After all the love the Saintess has shown to her, Misty knew she had to make her happy no matter what lay ahead. Misty remembered the sorrowful expression on Helen's face that was laced with heartache. Ever since the Young Duke had brought the imposter to the estate, the smile on the Saintess's face had faded.

Although Helen may have believed she was keeping her feelings hidden, it was obvious to those serving her that she was heartbroken. Who wouldn't feel devastated after having their beloved taken away right before their eyes?

Hence when Misty saw Ezra finally step out, she straightened her back and looked at him with anticipation. She prayed for good news and envisioned the light that would shine on Helen's beautiful face when she shared it with her.

"His Grace has important affairs to take care of. He is unable to see anyone for the foreseeable period."

Misty's heart sank. Now she envisioned the impending devastation on Helen's face at the news of yet another rejection of her request.

"But Lady Saintess has something important to speak with His Grace. She had been waiting for days to meet him." She pleaded with Ezra, but her efforts were in vain.

"If there is anything needed let the Head Maid know and she will take care of Lady Layton's requests."

"But he had all the time in the world to see 'her.'.."

Ezra had already turned on his heel long before he could hear Misty mutter under her breath. Misty clicked her tongue and hurried back to the southern wing with no other option. Ezra had made it clear that, no matter how many letters Helen sent, she would not be granted an audience anytime soon.

"Tch! It must be all because of the fake duchess. She's making the poor Saintess sad..."

Everybody knew that the Duchess had died years ago. When the Saintess first arrived at the Frost estate, she had offered prayers to guide the Duchess's wraith to Theodore's arms, which had been haunting the west wing at night. Therefore, the Duchess staying at the main house now must be an imposter, here to deceive the Young Duke for his fortune. There was no doubt of that, even the Saintess had thought so.

The idea of the imposter coming between the innocent Saintess and her love turned her into an enemy in Misty's eyes. Suddenly, Misty understood what she needed to do now. It was her responsibility to chase the imposter away, and she had just the plan to make everything right.









A few days after sending a letter with Adelaide's help, Angelica received a response from Axel Gilbert. Along with a letter, he had sent a small, elegantly wrapped box through a messenger to have it delivered directly to her.

In the letter, Gilbert mentioned that he would return to the capital in a few weeks, explaining that he had been away on official business and enquired about her well-being.

After reading the letter, Angelica gently tugged on the ribbon and removed the outer package. A wooden box adorned with intricate designs was unveiled, reflecting Gilbert's refined taste in aesthetics. Nestled inside the box over a small cushion of velvet was a silver ring of exquisite craftsmanship.

Angelica slipped the ring onto her hand and felt the cool metal against her skin. She turned her hand back and forth, testing the ring on different fingers until she found the perfect fit. She decided to wear it on her right middle finger, finding it the most fitting.

Unlike her wedding band, which had a large ruby at the center encircled by a band that resembled intertwining roots. This ring had small white stones meticulously arranged in an elegant pattern of mandorla and circles on the front, with a plain encircling.

"Shall I bring a new cup, Madam?"

"Yes. I would like that."

Angelica shifted her focus away from the ring. Eve replaced the cup of black coffee that had gone cold and set a new batch of cookies on the table. She then wheeled the small cart past Mikhael, who beamed at her with an inviting smile, deliberately ignoring his presence.

After the stint at the Imperial Palace, Edward kept his word. As promised, he replaced the entourage of people guarding her with a single knight—Mikhael.

Although Angelica initially felt uncertain about Mikhael because he had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Mikhael was quite different from the other knights, who usually preferred to keep to themselves. He was the very embodiment of an extrovert, constantly eager to strike up a conversation. His handsome features, complemented by his cheerful demeanor, made him famous among the maids in a matter of days.

Mikhael, on the other hand, had set his sights on Eve, which he made this obvious by making advances whenever he got the chance. However, Eve remained focused on her tasks by consistently ignoring him, just as she was now.

All was fine and well, except, there was one aspect about Mikhael that Angelica couldn't shake off...

"Have we met before?" Angelica asked for the twentieth time since they had met.

"No, Madam. I was away on assignment from the capital during your stay here," Mikhael replied for the twentieth time.

"You don't look like the typical Knights I see around here. They are nice but don't like to talk much."

"It is to be expected, Madam. The Dark Wolves are a highly skilled elite unit under the command of His Grace."

"Oooh," she exclaimed, nodding in understanding. "But what did you do, then? Since you're not quite like them?"

"My apologies, Madam. That is confidential."

"Come on. Who am I going to tell?" Angelica shrugged, trying to extract as much information as she could. She was curious but it was true that she wasn't going to tell anyone. Since there was no one there she could tell it to.

Mikhael appeared thoughtful for a moment before he spoke,

"I work in intelligence. I specialize in gathering covert intelligence from enemy territories. Disguises are my area of expertise."

"Where did you work?"

"I spent several months undercover at the Esdel estate until it was no longer needed. Since the passing of the former patriarch, they have been engaged in questionable activities."

"Really? Sounds serious. What brought you back?" Angelica leaned forward, intrigued.

She was well aware that the Esdels were the powerful aristocratic leaders of Orion, a family steeped in influence and tradition. The Ashfords had previously found themselves in conflict with the Moores, a rival family that enjoyed the political favor of the Esdels, over contentious border disputes from time to time.

"The position was taken over by others." Mikhael sighed.

Angelica didn't need to pose the question to Mikhael; she instinctively knew who had taken his place. If Mikhael had been immersed in the world of covert intelligence, it was almost certain that the people stepping into his role were none other than the Third Eye, given their affiliation to Edward.

"Should you be telling me all this?" Angelica tested, resting her chin on her hand, even though she was the one who had instigated the whole thing.

"Come on. Who are you going to tell?"

Angelica became certain by Mikhael's nonchalant response. He reminded her of someone, and it was almost at the tip of her tongue. But, she just couldn't put her finger on it.

"Are you sure we haven't met before?" Angelica shook her head, unconvinced. When Mikahel smiled helplessly, she added, "What about siblings?"

"I have a little brother. I was undercover for a long time and haven't seen him in a while," Mikhael said, pausing as his eyes followed Eve, having returned to serve Angelica a fresh cup.

"And I am hoping to expand my family in the near future..."

Eve had to draw on every ounce of patience cultivated over her years of service as a maid to keep herself from flipping out at Mikhael. As she poured steaming coffee into the cup, Angelica observed a subtle tremor in Eve's hand, a sign of the inner turmoil brewing beneath her composed exterior. In contrast, the rosy blush rising on Eve's cheeks revealed a mix of embarrassment and happiness that it seemed to Angelica that he might actually have a chance despite him constantly provoking her wrath.

Angelica and Mikhael continued to chat that by the time the sun had started to go down, their conversation had shifted to the Templar knights barricading the Frost estate weeks ago.

"I wasn't in Volos during that time, Madam, but I heard it was a sight to behold. Had it not been for the timely intervention of Lady Layton, the situation could have taken a far more grave turn."

"Lady Layton?" Angelica feigned innocence, her brow arching in mock surprise as if the mention of that name had never crossed her ears before.

"Lady Layton is the one who broke His Grace's curse. She has been living in the southern wing of the estate ever since," Mikhael replied with a sly grin.

His knowing expression suggested that he understood the significance of the information he was sharing, clearly grasping the situation at hand. The spy in him was strategically revealing controlled information to gauge Angelica's reaction, much like Angelica had been doing to him all along.

'Ahh, so she's in the southern wing, huh?'

It made complete sense now. This was the reason they deliberately kept Angelica away from the southern wing and why she hadn't caught a glimpse of Helen in the estate. They were intent on preventing any chance encounter between the two to safeguard the delicate balance within the household. Moreover, keeping them apart felt like something Nathaniel would do, especially with the crazy rumors surrounding their unfortunate love triangle.

However, if Helen was in the southern wing, then Hansom... Angelica sprang to her feet. She pivoted toward Mikhael, catching him off guard with her unexpected shift in demeanor.

"I suddenly feel like sparring. Let's go spar."