Since that day, Arche and Riviere began working—and living—together under the same roof.
Even after three days, when his teacher finally allowed him to return to the hotel, Arche simply shook his head.
"I'll stay here," he said flatly, as though it was the most obvious decision in the world.
Arthur and the others, naturally, couldn't leave it alone.
"Why?" Arthur pressed, a baffled look on his face.
Arche only answered, "I'm used to it here. Comfortable."
And that was that.
From then on, he continued living at Riviere's little antique shop.
They worked side by side every day, helping each other, watching out for one another.
Though neither said it aloud, they secretly cared for each other—especially Arche.
He was quick to fulfill any request Riviere made, without question, more obedient to her than to anyone else.
Whenever Riviere called for him, he came immediately. And, perhaps unconsciously, he always wanted to be near her.
Of course, his friends noticed.
Whenever he spent time with them, he always brought up Riviere in their conversations.
It didn't take long before Murphy and the others started teasing him mercilessly.
Time passed, and as the days went by, they went through countless little ups and downs together.
Bit by bit, they learned more about each other, peeling back the layers of who they really were.
Then one night, Arche came down with a fever.
Riviere stayed by his side, nursing him through the worst of it.
And in his fevered state—where his mind grew foggy and his tongue grew loose—he told her everything about his past.
The things he'd never told anyone else, not even his closest friends at the academy.
Riviere became the first to truly know him. And after that night, she treated him with even more gentle care than before—though she never spoke of what she'd heard.
Arche didn't know why her kindness made his chest feel so heavy.
Why he always felt strange around her.
Why he always wanted to stay by her side.
It was Murphy who finally said it.
"You've fallen in love with her."
At first, Arche scoffed. Denied it outright.
But then Murphy explained—quietly, matter-of-factly—what it meant to love someone.
And as he listened, Arche's emerald eyes widened, his cheeks flushing a deep red for the first time.
Because everything Murphy said fit perfectly.
Still Arche didn't know what love really was. He didn't know what to do with these feelings.
So he kept it to himself.
He told no one, for he couldn't bring himself to believe it yet
But as they continued to work together, side by side, the days of the holiday dwindled.
Until at last, the final day arrived.
The day Arche would have to leave the shop—and Riviere—and return to the academy.
Arche and Riviere sat side by side in the quiet shop, the faint morning light spilling through the windows.
Arche's bag sat neatly packed on the floor by his feet, ready for the journey back to the academy.
He yawned—long and low—trying to blink the sleep from his eyes.
They'd stayed up late the night before, wandering the streets and enjoying every last moment the country had to offer before his departure.
Riviere noticed his yawn and let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head slightly as she watched him.
"You're still so sleepy, huh?" she teased lightly, her ultramarine eyes glinting with amusement. "I told you we should've gone to bed earlier."
Arche stifled another yawn and shrugged. "I know, I know," he replied, his voice still thick with drowsiness.
"But—" He trailed off, his gaze lowering to the tea in his hands. "—I just didn't want the night to end."
Riviere gave a quiet laugh, shaking her head in mock exasperation.
"You're like a five-year-old who doesn't want to leave the park," she murmured fondly, a smile tugging at her lips.
Arche raised his cup of dark tea, taking a slow sip before speaking. "A lot's happened in just a month, huh, Lady?" His emerald eyes flicked to hers.
Riviere's smile softened. She nodded, her gaze briefly distant as she too recalled all the moments they'd shared.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "It really has."
A silence settled between them, comfortable yet heavy, as though both of them were reluctant to break it.
But then, Arche spoke, his voice quiet but steady.
"Will you be lonely if I'm not around anymore?"
Riviere froze, caught off guard by the question. A small, knowing smirk curved her lips as she turned to face him.
"What kind of question is that?" she scoffed, though her voice was softer than usual. "Of course not. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
She paused, her smirk deepening as she added, "Though... starting today, I'll have to do everything myself again. I will miss your cooking, at least."
Then she shot him a teasing look, her tone light and playful.
"And what about you, Assistant? Are you going to miss me?"
Without a moment's hesitation, Arche nodded. "Yes."
Riviere's smirk faltered. Her ultramarine eyes widened slightly at his blunt, unflinching answer.
For once, she found herself at a loss for words.
"Oh," she murmured, her usual playfulness giving way to something else entirely.
"You're being serious," she said at last, almost in disbelief.
Riviere let out a small yawn not long after Arche, covering her mouth with her hand. Her eyes met his, and he raised an eyebrow.
"What?" she said defensively, her lips curling into a faint smile. "I can get sleepy too."
Arche looked ahead, his eyes growing heavy.
"I want to rest for a bit," he muttered, leaning back slightly. "I'm sure it's not time to leave yet."
Riviere let out a soft laugh, shaking her head at his words.
"You're such a sleepyhead," she teased lightly, though her own body began to feel the weight of exhaustion as well.
Glancing at Arche's sleepy expression, she felt her own eyelids grow heavier.
"Maybe..." she murmured, suppressing another yawn, "I need some sleep too"
Meanwhile, Arthur and Murphy were making their way to the shop.
"I hope we're not disturbing them while they're making out," Murphy said casually, his tone dripping with mischief.
Arthur shot him a glare. "Arche never did anything like that," he replied flatly. "I can't even imagine it. That guy's like ice."
Murphy grinned knowingly. "Oh, come on. They lived together for a whole month. You really think nothing happened between them?"
The two of them arrived at the Riviere Antique Shop, stopping at the door. Arthur knocked politely, waiting.
No answer.
"Just open it," Murphy said, already reaching for the handle.
Arthur sighed in exasperation. "You're just like Arche..." he muttered as Murphy pushed the door open.
The bell above the door gave a soft chime as they stepped in.
The sight before them made Arthur stop dead in his tracks.
Arche and Riviere sat side by side, fast asleep—her head resting on his shoulder, and his head resting softly against hers, their heads touching in quiet, unspoken comfort
Murphy smirked, folding his arms. "Told ya," he said smugly.
Arthur frowned. "...How do we even wake him up?" he asked uncertainly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful moment.
Murphy's grin widened slyly as he pulled a small camera from his pocket.
"You want to wake him up right away?" he asked, clearly enjoying himself. "Because I have a better idea"
Arthur's eyes widened. "Murphy, Arche will kill you if you take that picture."
Murphy only shrugged, already lining up the shot.
"Don't care," he whispered with a devilish glint in his eyes.
After a while, Arche felt someone shaking his shoulder. His eyes fluttered open to see Arthur and Murphy standing in front of him.
"Huh...?" Arche mumbled groggily, his voice thick with sleep.
"Wake up, Arche," Arthur said, folding his arms. "Do you want to be left here?"
"That... sounds like a good idea..." Arche murmured back, burying his head into his shoulder. "Okay... let me sleep a little longer..."
Beside him, Riviere stirred awake too, blinking slowly. Still half-conscious, she instinctively shifted her body away from Arche.
Neither of them seemed to realize just how close they'd been sitting.
Finally, Arche stood, stretching his arms over his head, a faint yawn escaping him as his joints popped lightly.
Riviere remained seated, watching him with an amused smile as she rubbed her eyes.
"You look like a cat," she teased, her voice warm and playful as she tried to stifle her laugh.
Arche turned to her with mock offense, his eyes narrowing faintly.
"I do not," he said flatly-though his tone was more teasing than serious.
Murphy clapped his hands together suddenly, breaking the moment.
"Alright, you two are awake now—Arche, we'll be waiting for you outside! Oh, and—"
Murphy's lips curled into a mischievous grin. "—I have a present for you."
Without giving Arche a chance to reply, Murphy grabbed Arthur's wrist and dragged him toward the door.
"Why am I always the one being dragged?!" Arthur protested, his voice trailing off as the two of them disappeared outside.
Arche stared after them, blinking. "Present...?" he muttered under his breath, confused.
Then his gaze swept around the shop before he added quietly, "...I guess I should get ready."
Riviere finally rose from her seat, standing tall and stretching her stiff limbs with a graceful arch of her back.
"You should hurry," she said with a faint smirk, her eyes twinkling. "If you keep Rufina waiting too long, I doubt she'll stay patient."
Arche nodded, reaching down for the handle of his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder with practiced ease.
"Right," he said simply, then glanced at the clock on the wall... before turning his attention back to Riviere.
He stepped closer, then held his hand out to her, his expression as calm and composed as ever.
"It's been a pleasure working with you all this time, Lady," he said, his voice carrying that usual formal edge. "Please fire me."
Riviere blinked at him in mild surprise, then threw her head back and laughed softly.
"Oh, always so formal, aren't we?" she replied, shaking her head with a wry smile.
"Alright," she said at last, slipping her hand into his, giving it a firm and confident shake. "You're fired, Assistant."
Their hands lingered together for a moment longer than necessary, and neither of them seemed in a rush to let go—the simple touch carrying an unexpected comfort, quiet and unspoken.
After that, Arche stepped out of the shop, glancing back once as he gave a small wave.
Riviere stood in the doorway, leaning lightly against the frame, and waved back with a faint smile.
But then, Arche stopped walking.
He turned back toward her, his emerald eyes meeting hers, and for a moment he just stood there in silence.
Riviere tilted her head, slightly confused by his sudden stop. Her smile softened into something more questioning as she raised an eyebrow.
"What is it?" she asked softly, her voice low and warm. "Did you... forget something?"
Arche didn't answer right away—his fingers flexed slightly at his sides, as though he were working up the nerve.
And then, without another word, he suddenly closed the distance between them in quick strides and wrapped his arms around her.
Riviere gasped quietly, her eyes going wide as his embrace caught her completely off guard.
For a breathless moment, she stood frozen, her hands half-raised in surprise.
"...Arche?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, full of surprise and... something else she couldn't quite name.
Arche held her close, his face buried slightly in her shoulder.
He'd once read in a book that this was the most honest way to say goodbye to someone unforgettable.
"I'll be going now, Riviere" he said softly, his voice steady but faintly strained. "Don't disappoint me by forgetting who I am."
The words sank into her chest like a weight—and slowly, her hands moved, resting gently on his back as she returned his embrace.
"I won't, Arche" she whispered back, her eyes fluttering closed as her arms tightened slightly around him. "I promise."
For a few more seconds, neither of them moved—the world around them quiet, as though giving them this one, fragile moment.
Finally, Arche let out a breath and eased his arms away, reluctantly stepping back.
His emerald eyes met hers one last time as he nodded faintly.
"That's good to hear," he murmured, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of his lips.
Riviere caught herself smiling back, though there was a heaviness to it—reluctant, bittersweet.
"Oh? Hey," Riviere said with a gentle laugh, brushing her fingers through Arche's hair. "Your hair's still a little messy, you know."
"Huh?" Arche blinked, a bit caught off guard, his cheeks blooming with a soft blush.
"There," she smiled, her voice like sunlight. "Much better."
"Thank you" he murmured, his gaze briefly falling as he turned his face slightly away—only to look back at her again, drawn in by her warmth.
After taking a deep breath, Arche slipped his backpack off his shoulders.
His hands trembled slightly as he reached inside and pulled out a bouquet of fresh roses, their petals glowing softly under the light.
"I don't know if these are your favorite, but—I hope you'll accept them," Arche said, his voice quiet yet sincere.
Riviere froze for a moment, her eyes widening at the sight. Then, a soft laugh escaped her lips—warm and light—as she caught the faint blush dusting his cheeks.
"Arche... you didn't have to," she murmured, her fingers brushing tenderly against the delicate petals. "But, thank you. I love them."
Arche shifted his weight, his pink-tinted cheeks deepening in color.
"I read somewhere that women like things like this, so… let's just say it's a keepsake," he muttered, awkwardly adjusting his backpack.
"A keepsake, hm?" Riviere tilted her head, bringing the bouquet closer to her heart.
Her eyes softened. "You must have done a lot of studying about women then."
"Only for you," Arche replied without hesitation, his gaze locking with hers for just a heartbeat too long.
Her chest tightened at his words, warmth blooming inside her.
She tried to keep her tone light, but her smile was far too tender. "I'm flattered."
Cradling the bouquet closer to her chest, Riviere leaned in slightly, inhaling the sweet, delicate scent of the roses.
"Do you know what these flowers symbolize?" she asked, her tone almost teasing.
"Uh... well..." Arche knew the answer but suddenly found himself tongue-tied, his gaze drawn helplessly to her face.
Riviere chuckled at his hesitation, though her own cheeks were beginning to warm.
She glanced down at the roses, pretending to study them just to hide the slight shyness in her eyes.
"Actually... there are many meanings to roses," she began softly, her voice slowing as if weighing each word, "but one of them is—"
Her gaze briefly met his before darting away, and in a tone so gentle it was almost a whisper, she finished, "—love."
The word lingered in the air, warmer than the morning sun.
Arche's breath caught in his chest. For a moment, he forgot where they were.
All he could see was her—those delicate features framed by the soft light, her lashes lowering shyly, the faint blush painting her cheeks.
His heart pounded, and before he realized it, he had stepped just a little closer. His hand twitched slightly, as if it wanted to reach for her.
"Riviere.. I.."
Riviere, sensing his closeness, looked up again, their eyes locking. Neither of them spoke.
The distance between them felt impossibly small... so small that Arche could almost feel the warmth of her breath.
He leaned in, just a fraction—
—and Riviere's eyes widened ever so slightly. She didn't move. She didn't look away.
She just... stared. Frozen, breath caught, heart pounding so loudly it almost drowned the world around her.
The space between them felt like a fragile thread—one small breath and it would break.
But just before it did, her lips parted, and in a quiet, steady voice that barely betrayed the storm inside her, she whispered,
"You should go, Rufina's gonna scold you if you don't hurry"
She clutched the bouquet a little closer—not as a shield, but more like an anchor—while trying to keep her expression composed.
Arche blinked, coming back to his senses, his own face warm.
"Oh, right," he mumbled, trying to hide the fact that he'd almost done something reckless.
She chuckled quietly at his flustered expression, the sound light and melodic—like music only meant for him.
It wrapped around Arche's heart, softening everything inside him.
Then, after a moment that felt too delicate to break, she spoke—barely above a whisper, as if afraid the words might betray too much.
"Take care, Arche."
He didn't move right away. The silence stretched gently between them, like neither of them wanted it to end.
Arche lingered there, eyes still on her, letting the warmth of her voice settle in his chest. A quiet smile curved on his lips—faint, but filled with sincerity.
"You too, Riviere" he murmured, his voice low and tender, like a secret promise meant only for her.
And then... he turned.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
As Arche walked away, the cool wind brushed against his skin, but it couldn't calm the storm inside him.
Part of him felt... ashamed. Ashamed for leaning in like that—for almost doing something stupid, selfish.
For almost crossing a line he wasn't sure she was ready for.
But the other part—The other part didn't want to go.
Didn't want to leave her standing there alone.
Didn't want to imagine her smiling at someone else like that.
Didn't want to be forgotten.
The thought of Riviere one day getting a new assistant tightened something in his chest.
Someone smarter. Someone better. Someone who wouldn't hesitate the way he did.
And yet...
He hoped—no, wished—that if someone was to stand by her side next, they'd take care of her even better than he ever could.
Someone who wouldn't just admire her from a distance... but understand her. Cherish her.
Even if that someone wasn't him.
Riviere herself felt worried that Arche might forget her; she didn't want that to happen.
But then she remembered the way his emerald eyes always softened whenever they met hers, the unspoken warmth in his smile, and the countless moments they had shared—moments too vivid, too precious to fade.
Those memories were etched not just in her mind, but surely in his as well, making it impossible for him to ever truly forget her.
Riviere stood still, her eyes fixed on Arche's back as he walked away. She didn't blink. Didn't move.
Not until his figure finally disappeared beyond the curve of the path—swallowed by distance.
Only then did the weight in her chest begin to loosen.
All the feelings she had held back-so carefully, so tightly—finally slipped through the cracks.
Her hand rose almost on its own, brushing gently against her lips.
Her eyes drifted to the side, unfocused, as her heart pounded against her ribs, fast and unruly. Her cheeks bloomed with warmth she couldn't hide.
"Did he... try to..."
The words caught in her throat. She didn't dare finish them.
A soft, shaky sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against the doorframe, arms folding gently over her chest like she needed to hold herself together.
The silence left behind wasn't empty—it was filled with echoes.
Of his voice.
Of the way he looked at her.
Of the smile he wore when he finally walked away.
A smile so rare... it left her heart aching and full all at once.
And in that quiet moment, with only the lingering scent of roses in her hands and the memory of his closeness clinging to her skin, Riviere finally whispered to no one—
"...You idiot."
But her voice was too soft to carry, and her smile, though faint, refused to fade.
Arche finally arrived at the dock, where the massive ship bobbed lazily on the water.
Standing at the ramp was Rufina, arms crossed, eyes sharp enough to cut steel.
"You finally decided to show up," she said coldly. "One more minute late and I would've left you here to swim."
"Ah," Arche muttered, spinning on his heel, "I should go to the bathroom first, then."
He didn't get far before Rufina's hand shot out like a viper and snagged his collar.
"There's a bathroom on the ship, you idiot!" she snapped, dragging him up the ramp by the back of his shirt.
As Arche stumbled along behind her, he deadpanned to no one in particular, "Oh. So this is what Arthur feels like all the time."
Inside, Arche reunited with his group of friends lounging in the ship's main cabin.
Before he could even greet them, Arthur appeared out of nowhere, holding up a small bottle like it was a rare treasure.
"Arche," he said gravely, "drink this."
Arche blinked, eyeing the bottle suspiciously. "What's this?"
Arthur sighed. "Potion for seasickness, Luna give it to you. Just drink it."
"Ah." Arche popped the cork, downed the potion, and blinked. He didn't feel any different. He swirled the bottle lazily in his hand.
"Hmm... it doesn't even taste magical. Anyway—where is Luna? Haven't seen her."
Arthur looked away awkwardly. "...She's... avoiding you for now."
"Huh? Why?" Arche tilted his head.
Arthur ran a hand down his face with a long sigh. "...That's... a long story. Partly Murphy's fault. Partly yours."
"Mine?" Arche raised an eyebrow. "I didn't even do anything to her. At least... I don't remember doing anything."
Arthur only sighed harder and muttered something about "emotional damage" before dropping the subject entirely.
Later, after dumping their luggage in their respective rooms, Arche and Arthur leaned against the railing of the upper deck, watching the ocean glitter under the afternoon sun.
Arche, surprisingly, didn't feel seasick at all—credit to Luna's potion.
But his face was still... oddly melancholic.
Arthur glanced sideways at him, concerned. "What's wrong? You're unusually quiet. Did Rufina threaten your life again?"
Arche stayed quiet for a long moment before finally letting out a wistful sigh.
"...I didn't buy that many souvenirs..."
Arthur nearly fell over. "That's what you're sad about?!"
Arche didn't even flinch. "Memories fade... but cheap trinkets last forever."
Arthur groaned into his hands, muttering, "You are... impossible." Then he straightened and added reluctantly,
"Fine. I bought too many things anyway. You can take some of it before my bag explodes."
"Finally." Arche gave a little nod, still staring at the sea. "Truly… I'm blessed to have such a generous pack mule as my friend."
"I have a nice souvenir for you, Arche!"
The sudden voice made Arthur jump with a startled yelp.
Murphy had somehow materialized behind them like a mischievous ghost, his trademark grin plastered across his face.
"Oh?" Arche raised an eyebrow, unbothered as ever.
"So this is the 'present' you were talking about earlier?"
"Yes, yes!" Murphy nodded eagerly, his messy hair bouncing with his enthusiasm. "Thank me, Arche!"
He pulled out a photo and presented it like it was a priceless treasure. Arche's eyes widened slightly as he took the picture and looked at it.
It was... a photo of him and Riviere. Both of them fast asleep, leaning on each other in perfect symmetry, looking far more intimate than either of them would probably admit.
Arche stared at the photo in silence while Murphy smiled like a proud artist.
Arthur, on the other hand, pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering, "Murphy, you really have no shame..." He stepped closer to Arche, laying a cautious hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Um... Arche, I'm sorry. Murphy took that photo without asking and I tried to—"
Arthur stopped midsentence when he noticed something strange. Arche... was smiling.
A rare, genuine, faint but warm smile, his gaze fixed on the photo in his hand.
"Thank you, Murphy," Arche said simply, his tone sincere, his emerald eyes almost soft. "I owe you one."
Murphy froze for a moment, stunned. Then he let out a triumphant whoop. "WOAH?! I got Arche to SMILE?!"
Before anyone could stop him, he whipped out his camera again and snapped another picture—this time of Arche smiling down at the photo of himself and Riviere.
"I AM SO GRATEFUL FOR THIS VACATION!" Murphy declared dramatically, clutching his camera to his chest. "I'm going to frame these photos!"
Arthur groaned. "You're going to die if Arche changes his mind and decides to strangle you later."
Ignoring him completely, Murphy spun back toward Arche, his eyes sparkling.
"So! Arche! What kind of frame do you want? Hmm? What's your favorite color? Tell me, I'll make it perfect!"
Arche glanced back at him, expression thoughtful. Favorite color? He couldn't even remember if he had one anymore.
It had been so long since he thought about something so... trivial.
His gaze drifted back to the photo in his hands—the red of Riviere's hair catching the light even in that quiet, sleeping moment.
A small smile tugged at his lips as he finally replied.
"...I like red."
Murphy's grin widened even further, if that was possible. "Red it is!" he announced, already scribbling notes to himself about the perfect frame.
Arthur, meanwhile, muttered under his breath, "This ship isn't big enough to contain his ego now..."
But even Arthur couldn't deny—seeing Arche smile like that was worth it.
Back in the quiet of her shop, Riviere sat alone in her chair. The silence was deeper now, thick with the kind of stillness that settles only after something... or someone... important leaves.
Her eyes wandered to the table.
Two teacups sat there.
One was completely empty. The other, still half full.
She reached out without thinking, fingers curling around the cup that hadn't been touched since earlier.
It was still warm. A faint wisp of steam curled lazily from its surface, disappearing into the air like a breath never spoken.
"What a waste," she whispered to herself, though her voice lacked its usual sharpness.
Lifting the cup to her lips, she took a slow, quiet sip—closing her eyes briefly as the warmth spread through her, like the ghost of a presence that hadn't quite faded.
And when she lowered the cup again, she didn't let go right away.
It was then her eyes caught something she didn't remember leaving there—a small slip of paper resting neatly next to the saucer.
Brows furrowing, she set the cup down and picked it up. The texture was... thicker than ordinary paper.
Photo paper.
Curious, she took another sip of tea as she turned it over—
—and immediately spat it right back out, coughing and nearly dropping the photo.
Her eyes widened in shock, her cheeks already turning crimson.
It was them.
Her and Arche, fast asleep, leaning on each other like... like lovers in some cheesy romance drama.
The moment had been captured perfectly—her head gently resting against his shoulder, his leaning just as naturally against hers, a faint but unmistakable hint of peace on both their faces.
Riviere stared at it for a long time, her heart hammering in her chest.
"Who took this photo?" she muttered breathlessly, though she already had a sinking suspicion who the culprit was.
Her fingers gripped the photo a little tighter, her chest inexplicably tight as heat crept up her neck.
With another sigh, she set the photo back on the table, though her eyes lingered on it for several more seconds.
The faintest of smiles curled at her lips, wistful and soft.
"...I miss him already," she whispered under her breath, leaning back into her chair as the warmth of the tea and the memory filled her all over again.
For years, she kept the photos.
Arche, too, kept his own set—tucked safely away at his grandparents' house, quiet and untouched, yet never forgotten.
In the present, Riviere sat quietly on the edge of her bed, the evening light painting the room in warm, nostalgic hues.
In her hands was that same photo.
The one of them—leaning against each other in peaceful sleep, as though the world outside had ceased to exist for just that moment.
Her fingers traced the edges of the paper, eyes lingering on every tiny detail.
The calm of his face, the faint smile that lingered on hers, the closeness of their bodies.
Even after all these years, she could still feel that quiet warmth.
A faint smile curved her lips, but there was something wistful in her gaze.
"I never thought he'd visit me again..." she murmured softly to herself.
Just last week, Arche had come wandering back into her life—older, taller, and much more cheerful than before—yet somehow still the same boy she remembered from that spring.
Still the same Arche who'd made her laugh and made her heart beat a little too fast.
Her eyes drifted to the scattered photos around her—memories captured by mischievous friends during the visit of the Feohtere Academy students to her country.
One photo of them at the festival, another of her in the Feohtere academy uniform standing beside Arche.
Every single one of them shared the same, undeniable truth:
If Riviere was in the frame, Arche was there too.
Always together.
A voice called up from downstairs, breaking her reverie.
"Miss Riviere, we have a customer!" her new assistant shouted, her tone polite but urgent.
She blinked, glancing one last time at the photo before letting out a quiet sigh.
"I'm coming," she called back.
With gentle hands, she placed the photos back into the small wooden chest on her nightstand, closing the lid carefully, as though sealing away not just pictures-but a part of her heart.
She rose, smoothing her dress, and opened the bedroom door.
And as she stepped down the familiar stairs of her shop, her expression softened—touched by something bittersweet.
Even now—with new assistants, new days, and new faces—she still remembered.
How could she ever forget?
That strange boy who had stumbled into her life by accident.
The month they shared.
The memories they made.
And though life moved on and time kept passing, one truth remained.
No matter how far he wandered, she would always carry those days in her heart.
Not then.
Not ever.