The workers began to spread out, each with a basket in hand. Rows of grapevines stretched as far as the eye could see.
Arkenvale was known as the finest land in the country, where grapes grew with rich flavor and perfect color, worthy of being served at noble tables.
Mireya stood at one of the outermost rows. Her fingers moved slowly, selecting each fruit with the utmost care. She checked its ripeness. She could not afford to make another mistake.
Meanwhile, that same morning at the Eisenwald estate.
Leonard accompanied his grandmother on a walk through the greenhouse. The building was like a paradise sealed away from the outside world. The air was cool, sunlight fell softly through the clear glass, and flowers from every corner of the country bloomed with grace. The scents of roses, lilies, and orchids mingled together, soothing yet carrying a strange silence.
“Arkenvale’s economy is very stable,” Madam Elizabeth said as she walked slowly. “The family business is thriving without upheaval. Every domain submits to your decisions. Let me say it again, Leonard—I’m very proud of you.”
Leonard nodded, continuing to walk at his grandmother’s side. His expression remained calm, as usual.
“You’re highly competent,” Madam Elizabeth continued. “If your grandfather and father were still alive, they would surely be very proud of you.”
Madam Elizabeth came to a stop. Her wrinkled hand brushed the petals of a deep-red rose, her fingers trembling faintly. “My poor son,” she murmured softly, as though speaking only to the flower, to the shadow of the past.
Leonard stepped closer. Both his hands touched his grandmother’s shoulders, respectful yet warm.
“It’s been many years, Grandmama,” he said in a low voice. “Father must have found peace by now.”
“Peace?” Madam Elizabeth gave a faint, bitter smile. “If it weren’t for that criminal, you wouldn’t have been orphaned at such a young age. Your mother wouldn’t have spent her life as a widow living in the shadow of loss.”
A pause followed. The air inside the greenhouse felt heavier.
“Grandmama,” Leonard finally said, his voice still controlled but firm. “Can we discuss this more seriously?”
Madam Elizabeth turned and stared at her grandson for a long moment. Then she slowly shook her head. “That would only reopen old wounds. Wounds that should remain closed.”
Leonard drew a deep breath. “I just want to know,” he said at last. “Who exactly killed Father. Which family he came from. What his identity was.”
The question had remained carefully locked away all this time. Madam Elizabeth’s expression hardened. The tenderness vanished in an instant.
“You don’t need to know them,” she replied coldly. “They’re not worthy of your acquaintance. Despicable commoners like them are not worthy of having their names spoken by you.”
Leonard fell silent. Beneath his calm, something stirred—not anger, nor revenge. It was curiosity that had grown for far too long and was now beginning to find a path of its own.
“Very well, if you’re unwilling, Grandmama,” Leonard said at last.
They then sat on an ornate iron bench in the center of the greenhouse. A servant promptly poured them warm tea with practiced movements before retreating soundlessly.
Madam Elizabeth stirred her tea slowly, then spoke as if remembering something. “Oh, yes, Leonard. I hope you’ll be engaged to Vivienne by the middle of this year. Everyone knows the two of you were betrothed as children. All that remains is to formalize the arrangement.”
Leonard nodded slowly. It was an obedient gesture, though there was no wholehearted agreement in his chest. His life felt like a wheel endlessly turning along a path already laid out. Even before he opened his eyes each morning, that rhythm was waiting for him: responsibility, power, and duty.
“You’re old enough to marry,” Madam Elizabeth continued firmly. “Everything is already stable. There’s no reason to delay. The Eisenwald family needs a legitimate heir.”
Leonard gazed ahead at the flowers blooming in perfect splendor.