“E–Excuse me? W–Why are you acting like this, sir?”
He was a young man whose face was almost too refined, too delicate for a man — a flaw, she used to think.
But now, his face was terrifying.
So cold and devoid of emotion that she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d just killed someone.
The expression alone was enough to make an ordinary woman like Rosie tremble.
“I asked what you just said.”
“Wh–what do you mean, sir? I didn’t…”
“You mentioned her real parents, didn’t you?”
Only then did Rosie realize what she had said. She started to repeat it, then froze mid-sentence.
“Ah, her… r–real parents…”
It was true. Ena and Joy once had a daughter named Senaren. But she had died young, taken by illness before she’d even grown up.
The current Senaren was a girl they had brought home one day — an orphan they cared for and raised as their own. Everyone in town knew that much.
“Why so quiet now?”
“I… I just…”
“You said even real parents and children aren’t that close. So you meant they aren’t related by blood, didn’t you?”
Rosie had worried when Ena and Joy decided to take in a strange girl as their daughter. But they’d soon become a real family.
It wasn’t something worth hiding — not until now.
Yet the young man’s presence was so sharp, so coldly honed, that she felt she mustn’t say another word.
When she faltered, the man gave a faint, icy smile.
“You’d best answer properly.”
He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t even frown.
He smiled — a smile almost sweet.
And somehow, that made it so much worse.
Rosie regretted it.
She had forgotten that polite nobles were the most frightening kind.
“N–No, sir. One day, they found a wounded girl and cared for her with all their hearts. They raised her as their daughter.”
So she wasn’t their real daughter, after all.
“Strange,” the man murmured. “Their family record lists one daughter. Not even marked deceased.”
He knew that much?
Who in the world was this man?
He was clearly a noble — but for someone who’d only recently come to town to know such details about Ena, Joy, and Senaren… it was unsettling.
Rosie began to fear she had made a terrible mistake.
“They did have a daughter once,” she said carefully. “But she died after a few years. I suppose they never erased her from the record. Surely that’s no serious matter?”
“Who’s to say,” he replied, smiling in quiet satisfaction.
That vague, unreadable smile frightened her even more.
The sun was already sinking by the time Senaren returned, carrying a heavy basket of groceries.
Unlike when she’d left, the inn was strangely empty.
In fact, aside from that troublesome nobleman, no one was there at all.
Ignoring him, she looked toward the kitchen.
“I’m back, Rosie.”
But the usual warm reply — You’ve worked hard — never came.
“Rosie?”
Feeling something was off, Senaren carried the groceries to the kitchen — only to find it empty.
Left with no choice, she turned to the nobleman, the only person still in the inn.
“Rosie — I mean, the innkeeper — where did she go?”
“She said she was stepping out for a while.”
Rosie had never once left the inn unattended.
Sometimes she’d ask a friend to watch the place for a few minutes, but to leave a stranger — a first-time guest — alone? That was unthinkable.
“Did she say where she was going?”
“No.”
“Then… I’ll go look for her.”
Normally she would have stayed behind — she was an employee, after all.
But being alone with this man was unbearable.
She used the excuse of searching for Rosie, setting the basket down and preparing to leave.
“Bring me a glass of water before you go.”
“…Yes, sir.”
She couldn’t refuse. Refusing something as simple as a drink would make her look like she was running away.
Senaren fetched the water and set it before him.
But even then, he made no move to drink.
“Then I’ll be going now—”
“I have a question for you.”
Whatever had emptied the inn, she was certain he was behind it.
Before he could speak further, Senaren cut him off.
“I told you already. I’m not that lady.”
“I haven’t even asked my question yet. It’s not about the lady.”
Still seated, the man looked up at her calmly.
He seemed composed — almost serene — while she felt her heart race with unease.
Senaren bit the inside of her cheek.
She’d spoken too hastily.
“…What did you want to ask?”
“Why did you lie?”
“Lie? What are you talking about? What lie?”
“Why did you pretend to be their real daughter?”
Regios tilted his head slightly, as if daring her to explain — confident, like a man holding her secret in his hand.
She hesitated, then let out a soft laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
Because the answer was simple.
“Rosie must have made a mistake.”
“Don’t dodge the question. Why did you hide it?”
“I never once said I was their biological daughter.”
Regios thought back to that earlier exchange.
He had asked if her parents were truly her birth parents, and she had replied —
‘How could you say something like that?’
Yes. That was her answer.
He let out a dry laugh.
“So it’s true. You’re not their real daughter.”
“Yes. I’m not. But when a stranger comes asking, am I supposed to say, ‘Oh, they’re not my real parents’? Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Rosie’s words confirmed that Senaren had lied — or at least omitted the truth.
That only strengthened his suspicion: she might really be Ephelia.
Yet Senaren’s argument had no flaws.
No normal person would share such a private matter with a stranger.
“So you didn’t hide it on purpose?”
“I don’t even remember who I am. Those people took in someone like me — someone suspicious, with no memories — and raised me as their own. Should I have told a man I just met, ‘By the way, I’m not really their daughter’?”
Senaren met Regios’s gaze without wavering.
He had no answer.
After a pause, she continued.
“Then let me ask you — if I think of them as my real parents, are you going to scold me for not blurting out otherwise?”
The moment he’d heard she wasn’t their real daughter, Regios had been certain: she was Ephelia, alive but with no memory of him.
But this woman wasn’t the same.
Ephelia wouldn’t have spoken like that.
Couldn’t have.
Because he had broken her.
He had loved her so much that he’d destroyed her — all in the name of fate.
Gone was her bright, lively smile; in its place remained only that quiet, sorrowful one.
He’d turned away then — and in doing so, had lost her forever.
“…You’re right. I was out of line.”
“Don’t worry about it. So please…”
She was about to tell him to stop tormenting her and just leave when he said:
“Then let me make it up to you. I’d like to invite you to dinner.”
“What? Dinner?”
“To the mansion where I’m staying.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I insist. I owe you an apology — for my rudeness these past two days. Please accept. I’ll be returning to the capital soon, and I won’t have another chance.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I suppose I can’t leave until I’ve properly apologized.”
Senaren sighed.
“…Tomorrow’s my day off.”
“Then tomorrow it is,” Regios said with a soft smile.
