"Thanks, Ran. I can't even put into words how happy I am. It all feels like a dream."
Elera pulled him into a tight hug. Every word she spoke carried the quiet glow of someone finally holding what she had once only wished for.
How could he ever bring himself to dim that light?
Eiran wrapped his arms around her, gently smoothing her hair in silence.
He couldn't trust his voice.
If he spoke, it might tremble—might break—might give everything away.
He couldn't let them see.
But—
Did Valerian love him?
Or had it all been nothing more than something he imagined?
"Before, I thought he was avoiding me on purpose," Elera continued, her voice soft with disbelief and joy. "But now that I think about it, he never really refused me. I still can't believe he likes me back."
Eiran's hand stilled.
No.
He needed to hear it from Vale himself.
Others might misunderstand him—but Eiran wouldn't. If Valerian truly loved someone, he wouldn't hide it from him.
Unless…
His fingers curled slightly.
What if Uncle Rowan—or Grandfather Lionel—had forced him?
No conclusions. Not yet.
If Vale said he was forced—
he would believe him.
Without question.
This wasn't the time to sink into his own pain.
If he was right… then Valerian might be facing this alone.
And that—
He couldn't allow.
He had to go.
He had to tell him—
He wasn't alone.
~
It didn't take long before Mila and Elera left—they said they still hadn't finished shopping for tomorrow.
But it was good for Eiran—now he wouldn't have to make any excuses for going out.
The moment the door closed behind them, he hurried downstairs, grabbed his bike keys, and left for Valerian's house as fast as he could.
He didn't know where Valerian was, so he took a wild guess.
He could have called and asked—
but there was something in him that stopped him from doing so.
Maybe fear.
Fear that everything he believed in would fall apart the moment he heard the truth...
Thanks to his bike's speed, he got there quickly.
But when he arrived, he paused.
The mansion was unusually lively.
People moved in and out, voices overlapping, decorations being carried inside.
It seemed to say everything… yet his heart kept denying it.
He left his bike a few meters away before heading toward the gate.
Guards were standing outside. They bowed and greeted him respectfully as they opened the gate for him.
"Welcome, Young Master Eiran."
Eiran didn't say anything. He just walked inside, slightly dazed.
The entire mansion was bustling with activity. Staff hurried past him, arranging decorations, cleaning, preparing—everything moving toward tomorrow.
Toward the engagement.
"Young Master Eiran, Young Master is in his bedroom."
A maid noticed him and thoughtfully told him Valerian's location.
After all, everyone knew he only came here for Valerian.
Eiran didn't stand there for formalities either—he went straight toward Valerian's room.
But he didn't rush inside like before. He hesitated, unsure whether to knock or not.
Just as he lifted his hand to knock, he heard someone's voice from inside.
"Which flowers should we use for the decorations?"
There was a brief pause inside.
Then—
"Elera likes white roses… keep blue orchids and white roses."
A man replied in a low, steady voice—it was Valerian's.
Eiran would never mistake it.
"Okay, sir. Logan has already prepared your suit two days ago. Would you like to try it?"
"I've already seen it, right? It was pretty good."
So while he was happily preparing gifts for Valerian…
Valerian had been preparing for his engagement…
and hadn't told him anything.
"Just to make sure the fitting is right."
"Sure, then…"
Eiran walked away.
He couldn't take it anymore.
He had to leave as soon as possible.
As he passed the stairs, he heard the hushed voices of two maids talking in a corner, making him pause.
One maid asked, her voice deliberately low,
"But do you think Young Master really wants this engagement?"
The other scoffed before replying in the same manner,
"What are you even saying? There's no one who can force Young Master to do anything against his will."
Yeah… no one could force Valerian.
He had been naive.
How could Valerian be forced?
When he was calmly selecting his suit—and
he even knew Elera's favorite flower…
The tears he had been holding back finally couldn't be held in anymore.
He ran away from there.
He couldn't let anyone see him like this.
_________________________________________________________________________________
After leaving the mansion, Eiran took his bike and rode away.
But... he didn't want to go home,
so he kept roaming aimlessly for hours.
He only stopped when his bike's fuel was completely exhausted.
In the end, even his bike couldn't carry him any further.
He left it in the parking lot of a small restaurant and started walking again—without any destination.
Looking up at the sky… it seemed like it would be sunset soon.
The weather was windy today.
His hair whipped wildly across his face.
The wind quietly dried the tears on his cheeks.
His legs were sore, but he chose to ignore it.
He didn't seem to hear or see anything as he kept walking… and walking.
There was a small pit in the ground that he didn't notice in his dazed state, and he stumbled hard.
The fall was rough. He tried to stand up—but slipped again.
He noticed blood staining his sock.
Still, he tried to stand—
as if he couldn't feel the pain.
He didn't even realize that he was hurting himself more by doing this…
But before he could stand, he felt an arm slip beneath his knees, and the other behind his back—he instinctively tried to resist, but the hold remained steady, lifting him with ease.
He wanted to break free, but the hands holding him tightened their grip—making it hard for him to move.
"I initially thought you didn't love your legs—but now it seems you don't love your whole body."
The voice was calm, but those words were enough to bring him back to his senses. He instantly tried to move to look up—but a sharp pain shot through him.
He tried his best to endure it and looked up at the owner of the voice. But his eyes were still moist and swollen from crying, making his vision blurry.
He could barely see the silhouette of a man in a hoodie, his face covered with a mask.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed? Why were you walking so recklessly on the road?"
The man continued to scold him—but his tone was noticeably softer, as if he were trying to comfort someone.
"I—let me go."
He could hardly utter the words, his voice weak.
"Do you even know where we are? You were almost lying on the road."
Eiran looked around—
The man wasn't lying.
He really didn't know where he was.
As he brought his hand up to rub his eyes—
"Don't. They're already swollen."
He paused, and his hand fell back to his side.
The man didn't say anything more and started walking.
"Hey… where are you taking me?"
Eiran tried to resist again, but the man ignored him.
He couldn't let a stranger take him somewhere just like that.
"Stay quiet. There's a park ahead."
The man frowned, but continued walking.
Saelior had come here to inspect a factory located in this countryside area.
As he was on his way back to the hotel, he saw someone fall onto the road.
At first, he thought it was just a drunk person. He could have walked away like others and ignored him.
But he couldn't.
Even if it was a drunk person—he couldn't just leave, especially when he could help.
He was about to ask his driver to check, but he didn't. He didn't know why, but he felt like going himself—so he did.
He told his driver to stop the car and stepped out.
There, he saw Eiran—pitifully trying to stand up, ignoring the wound on his leg.
Before he could think further, he had already picked him up.
He regretted it almost immediately—carrying someone like this in public was hardly appropriate, especially for a grown man.
And Eiran also started struggling moments later.
Eiran wasn't wrong, though—after all, to him, Saelior was just a stranger.
Even he himself didn't know Eiran well—only his name, and that he was the artist whose painting he had bought that year.
It had been an unnamed painting.
He didn't know why it had no title—but to him, it had become his muse.
An unnamed muse… that quietly became a part of his life.
Eiran wanted to say more,
but swallowed the words.
He was already feeling weak—he didn't have the strength to shout, let alone fight back.
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