Night settled over the mansion like something deliberate.
The garden, which felt almost alive in the morning, now stood quieter—darker. The wind moved slower, the shadows stretched longer, and the silence… felt heavier.
Eline sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the tray placed in front of him.
The maid stood near the door, hands folded.
"Mr. Carlson won't be visiting you tonight," she said calmly. "He asked me to inform you. Please finish your meal and rest well."
Eline blinked once.
"…Okay."
The maid gave a small nod and left.
The door clicked shut.
Silence again.
Eline stared at the door for a few seconds before letting out a quiet breath.
Why would you even tell me that?
He looked down at the tray.
It wasn't much different from what he had been eating these past days—same strange consistency, same carefully prepared portions.
And yet—
He picked up the spoon slowly.
Still not bad.
That was the strange part.
"I've been eating the same thing for days…" he muttered under his breath. "Why am I not even bored?"
A small, humorless smile tugged at his lips.
"Maybe I really am weird."
Or maybe they're making me believe I am.
The thought lingered, uncomfortable.
He finished the food without realizing it.
Set the bowl aside.
And sat there for a moment longer.
Then—
He stood.
The garden.
Without thinking too much, he stepped out again.
The night air was cooler.
Sharper.
Eline walked the familiar path, his steps slower this time, more aware.
Arman's words echoed faintly in his mind.
No one walks around freely here.
Yet here he was.
Walking.
Breathing.
Planning.
A small, dangerous spark had lit somewhere inside him.
Maybe… this is my chance.
He sat down on the same stone bench, tilting his head back slightly to look at the sky.
Dark.
Endless.
For a moment, it felt normal.
Almost peaceful.
Until—
Someone sat beside him.
Close.
Too close.
Eline's body tensed instantly.
He hadn't heard any footsteps.
He turned—
Darian.
Relaxed posture. Legs slightly apart. Hands resting casually, as if he had always been there.
"You threw quite a tantrum," Darian said, his voice even, almost bored, "before calming down and accepting that this is all you can do."
Eline looked at him for a second before replying.
"…Not like I can do anything else."
Darian let out a faint breath, something close to a dry chuckle.
"At least you're self-aware."
Silence sat between them for a moment.
Then Darian spoke again.
"I wouldn't usually bother saying this," he continued, gaze fixed ahead, "but I feel like I should. You're not losing anything here."
Eline frowned slightly.
Darian turned his head just enough to look at him.
"Think of it as being a surrogate," he said. "And for that, what Carlson is offering you is… more than generous."
Eline let out a quiet scoff.
"But who said I want to be one?"
Darian didn't react immediately.
"That's not the point," he replied calmly. "What you want doesn't really change the value of what you're being given."
Eline's jaw tightened.
Darian continued, tone still measured—
"After this, you won't have to worry about money, survival, anything. Your life will be… secured. Completely."
He paused.
"It won't even take long. A year, maybe less."
His eyes flicked toward Eline.
"You should consider yourself lucky."
That did it.
Eline turned fully toward him now, irritation clear on his face.
"You really know how to talk," he said sharply. "Do you even hear yourself?"
Darian's brows moved slightly—barely.
"I'm being practical."
"No," Eline snapped, "you're being insensitive."
That made Darian pause.
Just for a second.
Then he exhaled softly, like he was adjusting his approach.
"I'm not trying to put you down," he said. "I'm telling you the truth."
Eline laughed under his breath, but there was no humor in it.
"Truth?" he repeated. "You're talking about my life like it's some kind of transaction."
Darian didn't deny it.
"Because it is."
Silence.
Heavy.
Sharp.
Eline looked at him, anger rising in his chest.
"Would it hurt," he said suddenly, voice tight, "if I punched you in the face right now?"
That made Darian turn properly this time.
A flicker of surprise crossed his expression.
Small—but real.
"You're quite daring," he said slowly.
Eline held his gaze.
Darian studied him for a moment longer… then leaned back slightly.
"But no," he added, voice returning to calm. "I don't think you will."
Eline scoffed.
"Why? Because I'm weak?"
Darian shook his head once.
"No," he said. "Because you're smart enough not to."
That landed differently.
Eline didn't reply immediately.
Darian continued, quieter now—
"And if you're thinking in those terms…" his eyes narrowed slightly, "then yes. By your logic, you're carrying something that belongs to this house."
Eline's expression darkened.
Darian's voice didn't change.
"So maybe," he added, "you should be careful how you frame your position."
That was it.
Eline stood up abruptly.
"I don't like the way you talk," he said, anger no longer hidden. "It's like I'm not even a person to you."
Darian looked up at him, unbothered.
"You're emotional right now," he said simply.
Eline clenched his jaw.
"And you're an asshole."
That—almost—made Darian smile.
Almost.
But it didn't fully form.
Instead, he stood up as well, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve.
"You're immature," he said calmly. "But that's expected."
He turned slightly, ready to leave.
Then paused.
"I didn't come here to argue," he added. "I came to make sure you don't do anything… inconvenient."
Eline didn't respond.
Darian glanced at him one last time.
"Try not to make things harder for yourself."
And then he walked away.
Just like that.
Leaving Eline alone again.
But this time—
The garden didn't feel peaceful anymore.