The servant sent by Lady Susan this time delivered an invitation not for a family meal. The message was that a close friend of Aelia was holding a birthday tea party today. Unwilling to let Aelia go alone, Lady Susan hoped Leon would accompany her.
Leon pinched the short note, written on faintly scented stationery, and sighed softly. It seemed there was no refusing. An afternoon tea shouldn't take too long, right? He found the "Silver Moon Pavilion" where Aelia was, using the address Lady Susan had provided.
It was a refined teahouse located in a quieter part of Graystone City, near a small plaza, favored by the city's young nobles, children of wealthy merchants, and scholars who pursued elegance. Afternoon sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows, casting dappled patterns on the polished wooden floor. The air was fragrant with the sweet smell of baking pastries, the roasty scent of coffee beans, and a complex blend of various spices.
"Aelia."
He entered the teahouse. His gaze swept over the well-dressed patrons conversing in low tones and soon spotted them at a relatively secluded table by the window.
He walked over, trying to appear natural. This duty of accompanying a young lady to a social event was a headache, but he couldn't bring himself to disregard Lady Susan's kindness.
"You're here." Aelia looked up, giving him a polite nod. A flawless social smile was on her face, but her eyes and posture maintained a clear distance. Today, she wore a lake-blue linen dress with a light beige embroidered short jacket. Her golden hair was intricately braided and coiled at the back, revealing a smooth forehead and slender neck, presenting an image of serene elegance.
Two other equally striking young ladies sat beside her.
One was petite, dressed in a pink velvet gown adorned with lace and tiny pearls, wearing polished kidskin boots and a silver necklace set with small rubies—clearly from a wealthy family. Her lively eyes were openly appraising Leon, filled with curiosity and a hint of barely concealed scrutiny.
The other was tall and coolly beautiful, wearing a well-tailored dark grey hunting-style jacket and riding breeches, with tall boots covering her straight calves. Her deep brown hair was simply tied in a ponytail. Her expression was impassive as she gently stirred the black tea in the bone china cup before her, showing no interest in Leon's arrival.
Even within the Silver Moon Pavilion, which gathered many handsome and beautiful patrons, these three young ladies together drew both overt and covert glances like a magnet.
"Hmph, so you're that Leon from the border town?" The petite one, Sybil, spoke first, her voice crisp and laced with a spoiled willfulness. Her gaze swept over Leon like she was inspecting goods—his plain dark coarse linen jacket, a slightly faded cotton shirt, no crest or family insignia, utterly ordinary boots. A world apart from her own expensive attire.
"A boy from a border town, daring to pursue our Aelia?" Sybil was blunt, her lips curling. "Do you know how many suitors Aelia has at the Academy? There's young Lord Marcus from the Viscount's family, and that top student Kelvin who already has a recommendation letter for the Royal Capital's 'Radiant Sanctum Academy.' Which one isn't better than you? No family background, and by the looks of it, no remarkable skills either. What gives you the nerve?"
"Sybil!" Aelia chided softly, shooting her a glance that seemed to reproach her bluntness. But her admonishment wasn't firm, more a token gesture.
"Rest assured," Leon said calmly, his gaze briefly meeting Aelia's, his tone flat, "I am merely following Lady Susan's instruction to accompany Miss Aelia. I have no other intentions."
"Oh? Is that so?" Sybil raised a skeptical eyebrow. Seeing Aelia didn't press further, she just snorted and backed off, picking up a volume of the latest popular poetry from the table, making a show of ignoring Leon.
Leon paid no mind to the slight. He casually took the empty seat and ordered a simple black coffee from a passing waiter. His attention was actually more focused on the tall, coolly beautiful girl who had been quietly drinking her tea.
Flora.
One of Aelia's close friends.
Strictly speaking, they had some unfinished connection in his past life.
She had a coolly exquisite face, a high-bridged nose, thin, pale lips, and deep brown eyes that seemed profound and distant beneath long lashes. Even seated, her excellent figure was apparent—a slender yet powerful waist under the hunting jacket, long legs crossed naturally. Her beauty wasn't the delicate kind built with finery like Sybil's, but a handsome, aloof, almost sculptural beauty.
She appeared aloof, but her heart wasn't bad. In Leon's past life memories, during his bleak period of harboring vague feelings for Aelia and facing repeated rejection, this cool-faced girl had, on a rare occasion, sought him out directly. She bluntly told him Aelia already had someone in her heart, advising him not to waste his time and to find his own path. Though her tone held little warmth, it was perhaps one of the few well-meaning gestures he received then, free of mockery.
Unlike Sybil beside her, who appeared sweet and came from prominence, but in truth looked down on everyone, never deigning to glance properly at him, the "son of a fallen knight," in his past life.
"Flora's family had declined, if I recall? She had great artistic talent, dreamed of becoming a bard or joining a famous troupe?" Leon sipped the bitter black coffee, searching his memories. In his past life, during his family's prosperous times, he had coincidentally met Flora, then a rising star in a troupe, at a noble's salon in the royal capital.
Back then, she was a troupe's promising new star; he was the confident young merchant's son. Old classmates meeting in the capital, both doing fairly well, led to several pleasant conversations, even a faint spark. Sadly, before that spark could ignite, Leon's life plummeted. His family business crashed, his mother passed away, and he was overwhelmed, with no mind for romance.
Later, down on his luck back in the north, he heard from scattered news that Flora, unwilling to submit to a powerful theater patron's improper demands, had offended someone, was suppressed and slandered, her star fading. Unable to bear the pressure and rumors, she ended her own life on a cold winter night, her life cut short before thirty.
Hearing the news then, Leon sat in silence for a long time in his humble border town room. Fate's capricious hand spares no beauty. The fleeting glimpse of grace, their respective high spirits, all eventually returned to dust.
"The world is ever-changing, and fate is fickle." A complex emotion stirred within Leon. Gazing at the still-youthful girl before him, the longing and quiet resolve for the future hidden in her eyes, and recalling the end she had met in her past life, a complex yet subtle feeling quietly took root.
Perhaps his gaze lingered a moment too long. Flora seemed to sense it. She looked up, her deep brown eyes meeting his, her brow slightly furrowed.
"Do I know you?" Her voice was a strange contrast to her cool beauty—not clear and high, but uniquely lazy, slightly husky, and soft, like a feather lightly brushing the heart when she spoke.
It reminded Leon of a famous opera diva renowned for her voice, whom he'd seen in the capital in his past life.
If Flora had truly entered that circle later, with this voice and looks, she indeed had the potential to shine. A pity...
"No," Leon collected his thoughts, looking at the slightly puzzled girl. A playful impulse arose. Half-joking, half-serious, he said, "But I know a bit of an ancient tradition of divination and fate-reading. People sometimes jokingly call me a 'Speaker of Fates.' For instance, though I'm seeing you for the first time, I can perceive you have talent and passion for the arts. And, your name likely contains the element 'Flor' or 'Flora.'"
"Oh?" Flora set down her cup. Genuine curiosity flickered in her usually aloof eyes, like a crack in ice. "Really? What else have you 'seen'?"
It was true she'd had an extraordinary love for song, drama, and poetry since childhood, a dream even her father barely supported, seeing it as impractical. The 'Flor' in her name was also accurate. It piqued her interest.
"What else?" Leon feigned contemplation, his gaze resting on her a moment before saying slowly, "I 'see' that you will enter the famous 'Starlight Conservatory of Arts' in the royal capital, and... you will bloom with your own light on stage, becoming a performer who captures attention."
"How did you know I wanted to go to the 'Starlight Conservatory'?!" Flora exclaimed softly, her eyes widening slightly. The icy exterior cracked further, revealing the vivid expression of a girl her age. "And my dream is to stand on stage!"
"Pfft!" Sybil beside her couldn't help laughing. She put down the poetry book, slung an arm around Flora's shoulder, and nuzzled her cheek affectionately. "Oh, my Lady Flora, you're the famous 'Ice Beauty and Future Star' of our Silverlight Academy! Your little ambitions—anyone could find out with a little asking! And your name, who at the Academy doesn't know Miss Flora Vere?" She then turned, looking at Leon with undisguised scorn.
"Listen, border town boy, chasing girls isn't about smooth talk and playing mysterious. And you switch targets fast, don't you? Just 'rejected' by Aelia, and now immediately setting sights on our Flora? Do you think we're fools?"
Aelia also frowned subtly to herself.
She had thought this Leon, though from an ordinary family and perhaps a bit boastful, was at least decent and honest. Now it seemed he was not only glib but also so frivolous, using such a clumsy trick on any moderately pretty girl. What on earth did Mother see in him?
Leon ignored Sybil's mockery, watching the lingering surprise in Flora's eyes, and beneath it, a flicker of piqued curiosity and inquiry.
He knew that for Flora now, her artistic dream was the softest yet firmest part of her heart. His seemingly playful "prophecy" was like a pebble tossed into a calm lake, already sending out quiet ripples.
As for where these ripples would lead, perhaps not even Leon at this moment could fully foresee. He only vaguely felt that since fate had let him meet this acquaintance with a tragic end once more, perhaps he could try to do something, so that cold winter night would not be her only destiny.