Arthur's eyes opened again, and he felt as if his whole body was on fire. The servants moved in a hurry as his father stood right above him.
"Fetch the doctor at once."
"Yes, master."
His father stared down at him while his blurry gaze sharpened and landed on his father's expressionless face. Arthur, who had been burning from a high fever, gathered his courage and spoke up.
"Fa... ther, where's... Mo-mother...?"
Frederick moved his hand further as he closed his eyes, saying:
"Rest for now, my son. Let us talk about your mother when you've gotten a little better."
And just like that, his eyes closed, and all he could hear were the sounds of the doctor speaking with Frederick.
Arthur clenched his fists. The bite of the nails against his palms brought him back to the present.
Some things, once lost, never return. And some wounds, no matter how much time has passed, never truly heal.
"Haa… I don't even know why I'm getting angry after all these years."
Arthur's voice drifted out, brittle and dry, like dead leaves crushed beneath his boots.
Arthur couldn't understand why he was so against the idea of living with her now.
'Is it because it reminded me of my previous life? Or is it because I'd feel uncomfortable in that house? Or perhaps it is because I'm afraid that I would forgive her for abandoning me and that I would once again let her get close to me and then leave me broken?'
A hollow laugh broke from his chest, sharp and sudden.
"Hah… it's truly astonishing how I am worrying about those things."
The place where he now stood was called...
The Maze Garden.
The high-hedged walls loomed, their leaves slick with moisture, whispering as the wind curled through their dense walls. The garden stretched before him in a labyrinth of shadowed paths and unseen turns, each corridor winding like a question with no answer.
"Now, where the hell am I?"
The scent of damp earth clung heavily to the air, mingling with the fading fragrance of roses. Their aroma was faint, yet stubbornly persistent, like the remnants of a forgotten confession.
'I followed her here, so where did she disappear?'
Arthur turned, scanning the corridor behind him, but the path he had taken already seemed unfamiliar, swallowed by the monotony of hedges and shadow.
'Damn it.'
Arthur was unaware all this time, and his feet had carried him too far.
'I swear I definitely saw her heading this way. So where the hell did she go?'
The silence offered no answers. Only the roses whispered, and the garden kept its secrets.
This garden around him was a construct straight out of the novels he had read.
A secluded place meant for secret meetings, and where coincidental encounters occurred.
It was the kind of place where fates intertwined, where lovers met secretly away from prying eyes, and where rumors emerged, ruining one's reputation.
'Where did I come from again...?'
Arthur had no idea how to get out of such a place.
'Someone, anyone, please take me out of here.'
Just then, a rustling noise came. Arthur's body tensed, his instincts sharpening as he turned toward the sound.
'Is it her?'
Arthur stepped forward cautiously, following the muffled voices beyond the hedge's curve, only to collide into a solid figure.
"Oh!"
He staggered backward.
'I suppose my body is too fragile that it is moving backward from just a mere collision.'
He lifted his gaze, his breath hitching for a fraction of a second. The figure before him was unmistakable.
Jet-black hair catching the dim light, golden eyes gleaming with eerie amusement.
Detective Edgar Lancaster.
'Shit! Why is he here?'
This was supposed to be the kind of place where protagonists met in fateful encounters.
'So why, in all the possible twists of fate, was I standing before him? Ah, right. I forgot for a moment that I'm no protagonist but a mere side character.'
Therefore, the chances of meeting his supposed heroine were as slim as a thread in the wind.
"Ah. Detective...?"
His lips twitched, a smile playing at the corners.
"Ah, please, address me as Lord Edgar. I am here not as an investigator, but as the second son of Baron Lancaster."
'Ha! As if I don't know he must've come here following me. And now, he is drawing a line that he is here as an aristocrat and not on duty.'
Arthur arched a brow as he inquired:
"And what brings you here, Lord Edgar?"
"Ah, I saw you heading into the maze, and out of concern for your well-being, I followed. But what brings you here, Lord Arthur?"
'I'm sure he saw me entering this secluded place and must've thought I was meeting someone in secret, so he came to see for himself.'
A thorough man. A dangerous man.
"Why does it feel like I'm being interrogated, Detective? And pray tell, do I have to inform you of my whereabouts?"
'After all that talk, he isn't even bothering to hide his suspicions. How amusing.'
Arthur let out a light laugh and continued:
"And how diligent of you, Lord Edgar. Taking time from your busy schedule to check on my well-being, it is truly commendable."
'Don't you have anything better to do than stalk me?'
His smile deepened ever so slightly.
"Of course. It is my duty to ensure Lord Arthur's safety. If you were to be harmed, or worse, kidnapped again, who would I report my findings to?"
This was a clear message: I will follow you wherever you go. Who knows? You might try to disappear while my back is turned.
This man's words were a game of chess, each move deliberate, each piece placed with precision.
"I understand. In that case, would you be so kind as to lead the way back to the banquet?"
His response was instantaneous.
"Oh... um... I don't know the way back."
"...P-pardon?"
'Haa... It means he followed me into this place without knowing the exit? What if I had led him into a trap? What if I had intended to harm him in this secluded space?'
The notion was laughable. This man was reckless in his own calculated way.
Before Arthur could respond, a smooth voice interrupted. It was like the breeze that whispered through the maze.
"What brings you here, gentlemen?"
Someone had arrived, their presence gentle, yet laced with quiet authority. Regal not by declaration, but by nature.
Arthur turned, and his breath caught.
Her emerald eyes met his, luminous and striking against the moonlit surroundings. She was a vision of quiet elegance. And yet, beneath the graceful appearance, there was something distant in her gaze, a solitude that mirrored his own.
Princess Ophelia Crowndale.
It was a name fated for tragedy.
Like Arthur, she was another soul condemned before the story even truly began.
The Princess of the Crowndale Kingdom, doomed to a life of solitude, until the weight of her loneliness crushed her completely.
She looked at Arthur, curiosity flickering in those emerald depths.
'Damn it! I was intending to speak with her. But with Edgar here, that is no longer possible.'
Arthur inclined his head with the measured grace expected of a noble's son.
"Pardon me for the tardiness of my greeting, Your Highness. I trust you've been in good health."
Edgar, ever observant, followed his lead with a polite bow.
"Greetings, Your Highness."
Her voice was soft, yet composed, as she answered.
"It's alright."
Arthur seized the pause in her tone, stepping forward just slightly.
"Might I trouble you to show us the way out? Lord Edgar and I seem to have lost our way while wandering the maze."
Her unreadable eyes lingered on him. There was a stillness in her gaze, not suspicion, not hostility, but something quieter.
Then, she gave a small nod.
"I see."
Edgar and Arthur fell into step behind her as she led them outside of the maze.
'Haa... I would never set foot in that place again.'
After returning to the banquet hall, it didn't take long for the weight of nobles' gazes to fall upon him once more.
'Why are they looking at me as if I'm some kind of monkey in a zoo?'
Arthur was feeling suffocated by their curious and hostile gazes.
Arthur turned on his heel and departed the hall as he made his way to the side palace, the temporary quarters assigned to House Ashbourne for the duration of the festivities.
For now, he needed a certain distance from the people in order to plan his next step.
The celebration stretched on continuously for three days. Wine flowed like rivers, laughter rang out like wind chimes in a storm, and every waking moment was an act of endurance beneath the scrutiny of the kingdom's elite.
And despite his efforts, he couldn't find an opportunity to speak with the princess.
It wasn't because the moment never came nor because etiquette forbade it. But because of a certain someone whose golden eyes never once left him.
A lion seated among wolves, his gaze like sunlight filtered through a dagger's edge, radiant and ruthless.
Every time he looked at Edgar, his message, though unspoken, was as clear as a blade pressed to his throat.
I have my eyes on you.