* * *
“It snowed again overnight, so be careful where you step.”
Just as Charis had said, the snowfall was even heavier than yesterday, covering the ground like an endless white sea.
The main castle staff was clearing the paths, but it would take some time before they reached the tower, meaning he had to trudge through the snow.
“Alright, I’ll be careful.”
Even with boots on, the snow reached his ankles, making his whole body feel cold.
Every step sank into the thick snow, sapping his strength as if he were trudging through sand.
‘Maybe I should’ve waited until the path was cleared.’
He wasn’t even halfway to the main castle yet, and he was already sweating.
Normally, he’d walk holding Felix’s hand and end up practically being carried by the time they arrived.
He’d been too confident in his ability to make it on his own.
“Would it be alright if I stopped by the greenhouse first?”
He hadn’t planned on it, but the thought of resting there sounded appealing.
And now that he’d said it aloud, he found himself genuinely wanting to go.
“Of course.”
The knights opened the doors and checked inside before letting him enter.
‘Isn’t this a bit much?’
He understood that the knights were just doing their job, but the level of caution still felt excessive.
Feeling slightly embarrassed, Lowell stepped into the greenhouse.
Compared to last time, it was impeccably maintained—a breathtaking garden filled with vivid hues of blue and yellow flowers, standing out among the multicolored blooms.
It looked far more expansive than when it had been just an herb garden.
‘Even the herbs look ornamental.’
“Welcome, my lord.”
As Lowell stood there, overwhelmed by the sight, an elderly gardener who had been directing the others at the front greeted him warmly.
Given the amount of work, one might expect him to show signs of reluctance, but his face was full of life.
“Hello. You seem quite busy.”
“Yes. It feels good to be building a greenhouse again after so long.”
The gardener subtly emphasized the phrase “after so long.”
Curious, Lowell raised an eyebrow, wondering, ‘Weren’t they always growing herbs in the greenhouse?’
The gardener, as if deliberately playing along, chuckled.
“Oh dear. To tell you the truth, I’ve been working at this estate for thirty years. The Grand Duchess treasured this greenhouse dearly. When I had to clear it out with my own hands, my heart shattered.”
The “Grand Duchess” didn’t refer to Lowell but to Felix’s mother.
It was a title Lowell had never heard before.
With a newfound curiosity, he turned his gaze toward the greenhouse.
‘Did Felix also grow up seeing this place in full bloom as a child?’
Lowell wondered what thoughts had crossed Felix’s mind as he agreed to Lowell’s request.
But there was no one around who could provide an answer.
Instead, he carefully observed the gardener, who seemed to hold a thread of insight.
“I’m just rambling like an old man. My lord, please forget what I said.”
The gardener knew well enough that once words were spoken, they couldn’t be taken back.
Yet, from his tone and demeanor, there was no sign of regret.
‘If anything, it feels like he wants to say more.’
Lowell studied the gardener, who lingered with tea in hand instead of leaving, and finally broke the silence.
“What was the Grand Duchess like?”
“She was a very gentle person. When she was alive, the estate was full of life. In some ways, she was a bit like you, my lord.”
The gardener spoke as if he had been waiting for the question.
His dreamy gaze suggested he was wandering through cherished memories.
“Like me?”
“Yes. Not in appearance, but in spirit. When she was here, there was never a quiet day in the estate.”
“She must have been a wonderful person.”
The gardener nodded, wearing the elated expression of someone lost in fond reminiscence.
“She was truly remarkable. And now, it feels like the vibrance she brought is returning. Both as a gardener and as someone who has served here for many years, I couldn’t be happier.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. It truly feels like stepping back in time. I suppose it’s because a certain someone has come to the estate. Even His Grace has grown noticeably gentler.”
The gardener wasn’t just an old servant—he genuinely cared for the Grand Duke’s estate.
That realization warmed Lowell’s heart, and for the first time that day, he offered a genuine smile.
“The Grand Duke was always a gentle person. People just failed to see it.”
The moment those words left Lowell’s lips, not only the gardener but also the knights and servants visibly flinched.
Their faces were a mix of disbelief and bewilderment, but they quickly masked their reactions.
The silence that followed didn’t last long.
The gardener let out an awkward laugh.
“If my lord says so, then it must be true. Please, take your time looking around. This old man will return to his work.”
Lowell sat back, feeling lighthearted, and soon recovered his energy.
As the gentle fragrance of flowers tickled his nose, his thoughts drifted to Felix—who once found similarities between himself and every flower he saw.
It was something that happened naturally, without conscious effort.
Almost like a reflex.
‘They say scent is the strongest trigger for memory.’
Lowell’s eyes snapped open.
I’ve rested enough. Time to get back to work.
Felix’s absence made him restless, sneaking into his thoughts the moment he let his guard down.
Finding traces of him in the smallest details felt childish.
“Shall we head back to the estate?”
By then, the path to the greenhouse had been cleared.
Lowell planned to observe the changing atmosphere among the estate workers and, if possible, gather hints about the happenings in the capital.
Everything went according to plan.
What he hadn’t expected, however, was how often he’d stumble upon Felix’s lingering presence in his daily routine.
“I’ve prepared honey-glazed duck for today’s meal.”
Felix’s favorite dish, one of the few things he actually enjoyed eating.
“The training is proceeding as usual.”
The very training Felix used to oversee from the center.
“There are relevant books in the library.”
Even in the pages he flipped through, he found Felix’s handwritten notes.
At first, Lowell tried to ignore those reminders, but before he knew it, he was actively seeking them out.
Hugging his knees, he idly tapped the gemstone on the bracelet around his ankle.
The faint trace of Felix’s pheromones brought him an odd sense of comfort.
The long wait had begun.
The morning was manageable.
As long as he didn’t dwell on how long Felix had been gone, nothing felt too out of the ordinary.
The problem started in the afternoon.
By three o’clock, Lowell’s hand, which had been steadily turning pages, slowed down.
By four, it had stopped altogether.
‘Felix has left the estate before, and I never reacted this sensitively. Is it because I don’t have much to do right now? Or is it simply because I know he’s physically far away, and my body is responding instinctively?’
Realizing he was too anxious to focus, Lowell put away the books and documents.
“Shall we return to the tower?”
Doing nothing felt worse than resting.
Deciding it was better to take a break, Lowell left earlier than usual.
Upon reaching the tower, his gaze landed on the magic sphere Felix had left behind.
“Please rest, my lord. We’ll inform you if any news arrives.”
Tia, having noticed his unease, offered a considerate reassurance.
But Lowell’s wait didn’t end.
As the sun dipped behind the snowy mountains, he found it harder to keep still.
‘The message should be coming any moment now.’
Though his eyelids drooped from exhaustion, his body remained tense.
Instinctively, Lowell cocooned himself in blankets, inhaling Felix’s lingering scent.
He wasn’t aware, but his body was attempting to soothe itself.
It was late at night, and he had dozed off, waking up with a start multiple times.
Finally, the magic sphere began to glow.
“My lord.”
At Charis’s call, Lowell bolted out of bed.
His foot caught on the blanket, nearly sending him tumbling, but he barely managed to steady himself as he rushed to the table.
The face that appeared in the sphere wasn’t Felix’s—not at first glance.
This man was smaller in build, with common light brown hair and eyes.
But Lowell recognized him instantly.
The way he gazed at him, that deliberate poise—it was unmistakably Felix.
“Your Grace.”
Calling out to him without hesitation, Lowell watched as Felix raised a single eyebrow.
—How did you recognize me?
“I just did.”
The moment he saw Felix’s unharmed face, the tension coiled tightly in Lowell’s chest unraveled.
His fingertips, which had been aching with impatience, softened, and the gnawing tightness in his stomach eased.
Only after the dull ache faded did Lowell finally regain clarity.
‘I was worried.’
* * *
