There weren’t many travelers who actually stayed at the small-town inn just for lodging. About half were wanderers, and the other half were townsfolk.
Lunchtime at such a place was usually noisy and bustling—people coming and going, voices overlapping. But today, unusually, the inn was quiet.
That was because a man—far too beautiful and noble-looking to belong in a small-town inn—was sitting inside.
Naturally, all eyes were drawn to him.
Everyone in the inn stole glances at the man.
With his strikingly handsome face and fine tailored suit, there was no doubt—he was a nobleman.
Yet no one dared to gossip aloud. The pressure and aura he exuded made it difficult for anyone to even open their mouths.
Meanwhile, Senaren looked at the man with a troubled expression.
She had a bad feeling that he wouldn’t give up easily, but she hadn’t expected him to actually come to her workplace first thing in the morning—and sit there all day. Especially since she’d only said she worked “in town,” not that she worked at the inn. How he’d found out overnight was beyond her.
Last night, the man had seemed half out of his mind. He’d appeared to regain his senses later, but clearly, that wasn’t the case. She hadn’t expected him to show up like this.
“Senaren, could you take the meal to table five?”
“Yes.”
Table five was his table.
The man kept ordering dish after dish, as well as drinks. He’d take only a few bites before asking for the food to be cleared away.
It was obvious he was paying attention to her.
But once he confirmed she wasn’t the lady he mistook her for, surely he’d leave. His behavior was more than a little troublesome.
Still, telling him outright would only draw more of his attention, so she pretended not to notice, doing her best to ignore him.
From morning through lunchtime, the man hadn’t budged from his seat—and she could already tell he’d probably stay until closing. She decided she’d tell him after work to stop this nonsense.
“Do you know him?”
Rosie, the innkeeper, whispered as she set down the man’s food.
“How could I know someone like that?”
“Anyone can tell he’s interested in you.”
“He stopped me on my way home yesterday. I guess it’s because I resemble some noble lady.”
“Oh, that could be it. Did you tell him he’s mistaken?”
“Of course. I told him I’m not her—our hair color isn’t even the same—but he won’t listen.”
Rosie glanced discreetly toward the nobleman.
If it were about a bounty, he’d have reported it already. His showing up at this shabby inn made no sense—unless he was genuinely interested in Senaren.
Not all nobles were graceful and polite. In fact, most treated commoners as if they were beneath notice. Courtesy among nobles only applied to others of their rank.
They divided themselves even within their own class—so what chance did a commoner have?
Yet this man, a noble, was showing unusual restraint and courtesy toward a commoner girl. That alone said something about his character.
“You’re not interested?” Rosie teased.
“I’m not. As long as I have my parents, I’m fine.”
“Funny, the other girls seem quite taken with him.”
Indeed, the dining hall was full of young village girls sneaking glances at the nobleman—an unusual sight for the usually quiet inn.
“I’ll pass,” Senaren said flatly.
She took the dish and brought it to his table.
“Here’s your meal, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Senaren didn’t respond, simply turning back toward the kitchen. As soon as she disappeared inside, the man called out again, asking for water.
Suppressing a sigh, Senaren replied, “Yes, sir,” and stepped back into the kitchen.
“What’s with that cup?” Rosie asked in surprise as Senaren pulled out the largest mug the inn owned.
“The customer seems very thirsty,” she said evenly.
Rosie gave a wry smile. Senaren filled the mug to the brim and carried it out with both hands—it was that large.
“Here’s your water, sir.”
The man chuckled softly when he saw the cup’s size. Clearly, her message—that she didn’t want to be called back for water again—had been received.
Even after lunch hour passed, the dining room remained unusually full.
“Rosie, is there any errand I can run today?”
“Hmm, maybe.”
“Please, Rosie.”
Senaren clasped her hands together as if praying—earnestly.
She had never once complained about hard work, nor had she ever been lazy. Seeing her plead like that, Rosie’s resolve wavered.
“You really don’t want to stay here?”
“I really don’t.”
“Alright, then. Could you go to the market and buy ingredients for tomorrow?”
Senaren’s face brightened instantly.
“Of course!”
“Take your time. The rush is over anyway.”
With money in hand, Senaren cheerfully left the inn.
Regios turned his gaze to the window, watching her run off happily. It was obvious she was escaping from him.
He gave a bitter smile.
Senaren worked as a waitress at this small-town inn. She truly was the daughter of Ena and Joey, who had lived here their whole lives and had her more than a decade ago.
Tale’s report had been brief but efficient. The details were sparse, yet her identity was registered officially with both the Temple and the Empire.
He had always cursed destiny, never believed in it. But the moment he met Senaren, a shiver had run through him—he thought fate itself had led him to Ephelia once more.
But perhaps it had all been an illusion.
“Are you truly gone from this world?” he thought.
Maybe this was nothing but obsession. Maybe he simply couldn’t accept that he himself had driven Ephelia to her death. Maybe he just wanted to believe she was still alive. Maybe that’s why even someone who only resembled her stirred his heart like this.
In his life, the only person who had ever shaken him was Ephelia. In every sense, she had been the only one.
Senaren was the first to move him since Ephelia’s disappearance. And that was precisely why he wanted to believe she was Ephelia.
Click.
Regios glanced down at the few cookies the innkeeper had quietly placed before him. He didn’t like sweets, and these looked clumsy at best.
“I didn’t order these.”
Rosie smiled.
“On the house. Thanks to you, business is booming today.”
“I see. Thank you.”
He wouldn’t eat them anyway.
“Senaren may look like Lady Ephelia, but she isn’t her. Reporting her would be pointless.”
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“Then what is?”
“A personal interest.”
“You mean, interest in Senaren herself—not the lady she resembles?”
“Yes.”
Rosie realized then—this handsome nobleman was smitten with Senaren.
Senaren wasn’t a great beauty, but she was pretty and kindhearted. Rosie couldn’t help thinking that if this nobleman were to take Senaren away, it might be a good thing for her.
“She’s such a good girl,” Rosie said, looking out the window.
Though Senaren was long gone from sight, it was clear who she meant.
“Is that so?” Regios replied.
He didn’t know a thing about Senaren. Tale’s report had only listed her basic information.
“Oh, yes. You have no idea how kind she is—to her parents, to everyone. She’s hardworking and smart.”
Regios could more or less guess what the innkeeper was thinking. He probably seemed like a potential match for the girl—a noble suitor, even as a concubine.
But really, what was there to boast about in a child treating her parents well? Loving one’s family was only natural.
“Is that so?”
“A couple of years ago, her mother—Ena—fell seriously ill. Senaren cared for her so devotedly. You’ve never seen anything like it.”
Naturally. She was her mother. Though, of course, in this world, even that wasn’t guaranteed.
Still, he realized then that if she wasn’t Ephelia, she meant nothing to him.
Fool.
He had loved Ephelia from the beginning. Yet he told himself it wasn’t love—that fate’s chosen partner was just a cruel joke of the gods. So, in rejecting fate, the gods had taken her from him forever.
No—it was he who had lost her. He knew it was his fault, yet still clung to the faintest hope.
But now, this madness had to end. He would return to the capital.
If only she hadn’t said that next line—
“Even most parents and children wouldn’t go that far for each other.”
“What?”
Regios froze. What had he just heard?
“What did you just say?”
The chair screeched and toppled as he shot to his feet. Rosie flinched at the sudden movement.
“S–sir?”
The beautiful nobleman loomed over her, his expression terrifying.
“I asked,” he said in a low, trembling voice, “what you just said.”
