Back inside the estate, the air was noticeably cooler, dimmed by the filtered light spilling through tall, arched windows and muffled by the weight of heavy velvet drapes. The quiet shuffle of servants moving through the halls provided a soft, distant rhythm to my steps.

  Jane slipped away with the basket, disappearing down the corridor toward the kitchen. Cecil went the opposite way to return the bnket to its rightful pce.

  And just like that, I was alone.

  The silence indoors felt heavier, more suffocating. Maybe it was the absence of birdsong, or maybe it was how the walls seemed to echo every thought I wished I could ignore. I wandered into the sitting room—the one with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the garden—and lowered myself into a velvet-cushioned chair with a sigh.

  The book—that book—was still clutched in my hand. The Northern Duke is Obsessed with Me, Volume 2. I opened it to the page I had barely started earlier, though now the words looked blurrier than before.

  It wasn’t the kind of book a respectable noble dy would ever admit to reading, let alone carry around the estate. And yet, no one ever called me out on it. Not the staff, not my brothers, not even my parents. Or maybe… they noticed and just chose not to say anything. That silence had made me reckless—too comfortable, too bold.

  Maybe it was time I reined things in a little. I was starting to look less like a dignified young dy and more like the protagonists in these overly dramatic novels. It was beginning to feel like I was setting myself up for disaster.

  I flipped another page, but the words barely registered. Cringe-worthy as the scenes were, they reminded me far too much of what had just happened. The awkward gnces. The flustered replies. The fact that I, without meaning to, became that girl.

  Utterly mortifying.

  Then, like a whisper in the back of my mind, I heard his voice again. “You’re not what I expected.”

  Neither was he.

  He was cold, composed, untouchable—but beneath that, he had a dry humor that was strangely… disarming. Unexpected. Dangerous.

  The realization hit me like a chill. I straightened up, as if good posture could somehow will away the thoughts. I needed to steer clear of the First Prince. His presence had already caused too much disruption. The pn was simple: keep my head down, avoid attention, and live this second life on my terms. I reminded myself again and again.

  And yet… the way I reacted earlier? That was textbook heroine behavior—from one of these ridiculous novels. Just the thought made me shudder all over again.

  Just as Jane appeared at the door, an idea struck me—a way to quiet my restless thoughts and wrest back control of my spiraling mind.

  "Jane," I said, sitting up a little straighter, "could you bring our mathematics books and notes? Let’s study for a bit."

  She froze mid-step, clearly startled. “Of course, young dy… I’ll go get them,” she replied, her tone hesitant, as if silently questioning my sudden change in priorities. Still, she didn’t argue.

  Cecil entered a moment ter, likely wondering why Jane was rushing off with such urgency. The two exchanged a brief, knowing look. Jane gave a slight shrug—an unspoken “I have no idea either.” After all, everyone in the household knew I never touched academic books on weekends. I’d always decred them sacred, reserved for leisure and lounging.

  But Jane said nothing more. She nodded politely and slipped away.

  Cecil, perhaps unsure of what to make of the situation, quietly settled into her usual spot in the corner of the room.

  Not wanting my thoughts to wander again, I turned to her. “Cecil,” I said, gncing over, “tell me more about your hometown.”My question was sudden, but genuine. I had never explored beyond the capital of our Marquisate, and curiosity tugged at me now more than ever.

  She blinked, now fully convinced that something was off. First, the surprise study session. Now, small talk? Very out of character. Still, she nodded, though confusion lingered in her eyes.

  Sorry, Cecil, I thought. If this world had the internet, I’d be watching a three-hour baking video or spiraling down a conspiracy rabbit hole right now. But here we are.

  She began softly, “My hometown’s just a quiet little farming vilge—nothing grand, but peaceful. Most days start before sunrise. You’ll hear the roosters crowing and carts creaking down the dirt roads as the farmers head out to their fields. Everyone helps in some way, even the kids—they fetch water, pick vegetables, or chase after runaway hens.”

  She let out a light ugh, eyes glimmering with fondness. “The air always smells like fresh soil and something warm from the oven. My neighbor—an old, sweet dy named Nancy—always left her window open when she baked cinnamon bread. The whole street would smell like home.”

  “In the afternoons, folks mend tools, dry herbs, or gather at the market square. It’s not big, but it’s always lively. People chat, trade, and sometimes slip you berries for free if they like your smile. And once the day winds down, everyone meets at the well or someone’s porch. Just to talk, share stories, or compin about the weather.”

  She turned to me with a shy, nostalgic smile. “It’s a simple life, but… It’s home.”

  I returned her smile, her words painting such a vivid picture in my mind. Cozy and lively, her vilge sounded like a pce where people lived fully, even in simplicity. I’d love to visit someday, I thought.

  Just then, as Cecil opened her mouth to share another memory, Jane returned—armed for battle.

  She entered carrying a tower of math textbooks, thick notebooks, past quizzes, and an armful of spare notepads. She had come fully prepared.

  The moment I saw the pile, a flicker of regret passed through me. Maybe I overdid it.

  Jane, on the other hand, looked absolutely determined. This was probably her one chance to see me study willingly, and she intended to make the most of it.

  This is all the First Prince’s fault. He’s the reason I’m stuck studying on a weekend.

  “Here you go, young dy,” Jane said with a half-smile as she stacked the materials on the table. “Let’s begin before you change your mind.”

  I gave her a wry smile, unable to argue. And thus began what could only be described as an agonizing study session.

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