That night.
Armand Region.
Armand Estate.
The soft glow of the full moon bathed the courtyard in silver light. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, and the faint scent of night-blooming flowers drifted through the garden.
Liana stood alone, her silver hair shimmering like moonlight itself. She wore a light shawl over her maid uniform, her emerald eyes reflecting the sky above as she gazed upward in silence.
"…Young master."
Her voice was barely above a whisper. It blended into the wind, unheard by anyone but the moon.
She thought she'd gotten used to it—the days without him, the quiet halls, the absence of his teasing voice, his mischievous grin, the way he would cling to her when he was half-asleep.
She used to believe he'd be the one to break without her.
That he'd sulk. That he'd whine. That he'd cling to her robe and say, "Don't leave me, Liana."
But now...
She clenched the fabric of her shawl softly.
"…Turns out I'm the same."
