---
It was a cold, gray morning. Mist curled across the tall windows of the castle.
In the middle of this gloomy weather, a young woman stood before the office door of Duke Lionel Graive Carven—
the Sword of Eisreich, the most powerful figure in the empire.
Strangely enough, the title was never meant to be his in the first place.
She stared at the door as if it were some mythical beast about to swallow her whole.
Her dark brown hair fluttered slightly in the chilly air, messy but not enough to bother her—
at least it covered part of her nervousness.
Her clothes were plain and gray, loose-fitting, silently saying: "I'm only here because I have to be."
Her brown eyes held no sparkle, only patience—like someone who had already seen too much of life, though she was barely past twenty.
She took a deep breath—maybe her third or fourth since standing there—
then slowly opened the door and stepped inside with a modest bow.
"Good morning… my lord duke."
When she raised her head, she froze.
In front of her sat a man who looked like he had stepped straight out of a history book:
tall, with long white hair falling in elegant waves, a small golden monocle glinting on his nose.
In his hands rested a large book—not so much being read as being displayed,
as if anyone in the room was expected to be impressed by it.
And on his thumb, a ring with a red stone glimmered suspiciously.
He wasn't just handsome—he was dangerous.
The line between the two wasn't clear, and she forced herself not to stare too long.
Without fully lifting his head, he spoke in a calm, cool voice:
"What brings you here… in this kind of weather?"
She hesitated, tugging lightly at her sleeve, then replied:
"I'm… Kaelyn Dormond. I came to apply for the position of librarian."
He raised his hand toward a stack of papers on the side table.
Understanding, she handed him the résumé she had written last night—
between a third cup of coffee and a small breakdown.
He took it and began to read silently.
Meanwhile, she thought of every spelling mistake she might have missed.
Her heart pounded, her hand scratched her neck for no reason,
and inside she told herself: "Well… this is the end."
At last, he spoke in a voice with no pity and no admiration:
"Your résumé is incomplete. No real experience. No remarkable qualifications."
It felt like the ground itself wanted to swallow her—but of course, luck wasn't that generous.
She hesitated, then lifted her voice just a little:
"I know that, my lord… but I learn quickly. I truly love books. Just one chance is enough."
He studied her in silence for a moment, then closed the book gently, his eyes still fixed on her.
When his gaze grew too heavy, she chose to look away.
Finally, he tilted his head slightly and said quietly:
"Monday. Nine a.m. The ducal library. We'll see if you deserve the chance."
She bowed again, almost said thank you, but swallowed the words—
not wanting her shaky voice to ruin the moment.
Leaving quickly, only two thoughts filled her mind:
that she hadn't been rejected outright…
and that maybe, just maybe, she needed to buy a better coat for this cold.
---