Part 1
Evelyne had wanted to have dinner at Enrich's residence, as they had done before. She had already planned what dishes she would prepare for him, hoping to recreate a sense of comfort. However, Enrich had different plans. He wanted to go outside. He realized he needed to break free from his cocoon. As much as he wanted to stay in the house—where he could bask in the lingering memory of his beloved Scarlett, subconsciously pretending she was still alive, just far away like she had been so many times before—he knew he couldn't. Reality was calling him back. His homeland needed him. His family needed him. His vision needed him. And, most importantly, his friends needed him—and Scarlett's dying wishes demanded it. He couldn't afford to lose sight of himself, not just for his own sake but for Scarlett, and for the countless lives he represented as the ambassador of Osgoria. He had to step outside, to immerse himself in the real world again.
Though initially worried about privacy and media exposure, Evelyne found all her concerns addressed by Enrich's meticulous planning. He had carefully chosen the restaurant for the evening, knowing privacy was paramount. Set within a refitted ancient mansion, the venue was tucked away behind acres of manicured gardens. Usually reserved for grand events like weddings or corporate functions, the restaurant had been sealed off for their private dinner. Tonight, it was just for Enrich and Evelyne.
The mansion was a masterpiece of old-world opulence blended with modern luxury. Crystal chandeliers hung from ornate ceilings, casting a warm, golden glow over the polished marble floors. The room they reserved was deep within the building, far from any windows, guaranteeing total privacy. Guards stood at the entrance to the grand hall, ensuring no one could catch a glimpse inside.
The staff, handpicked for their discretion, had surrendered their phones at the start of the night, placing them in a secure location under strict supervision. Each member had signed comprehensive confidentiality agreements, and their roles were tightly managed. None of them set foot inside the private room, nor did they overhear any of the conversation between the Empress and the ambassador. Every dish passed through security, tested for safety, and was delivered to the table by security guards. This ensured that the privacy of their dialogue, as well as the security of their meal, remained intact.
Enrich sat at the table, his posture regal but weary. Standing at 185 centimeters, he cut a striking figure, his blonde hair neatly styled and his deep green eyes distant and troubled. His broad shoulders filled out his tailored black suit, but despite his sharp appearance, there was an undeniable air of exhaustion around him. Tonight, none of the confident charm he exuded at public events was present. This was a man carrying the weight of personal loss, struggling to maintain his composure.
Evelyne, seated across from him, looked equally worn, though still a vision of Avalonian beauty. Her golden hair flowed in soft waves down her back, and her large blue eyes reflected both sadness and resilience. She wore a deep navy gown, her curvaceous form accentuated by its elegant design. Despite her regal bearing, the sorrow in her eyes told a different story. The weight of her new responsibilities as Empress was heavy, and tonight, the crown felt more like a burden than a symbol of power.
The atmosphere between them was subdued, the silence between words heavier than usual. Evelyne glanced around the grand room, the empty space creating an intimacy neither had experienced in weeks. "Thank you for arranging this," she said softly, her voice almost lost in the vastness of the hall.
Enrich nodded, his eyes lingering on her longer than usual. "I thought you'd appreciate somewhere... quiet. No prying eyes, no speculation. Just us."
Evelyne offered a faint smile. "It's perfect. I didn't realize how much I needed this."
Dinner progressed slowly. Plates arrived, tested and delivered with precision by the guards, but neither Enrich nor Evelyne seemed particularly focused on the food. They were lost in memories, reminiscing about simpler times—about Scarlett, whose presence felt palpable in the room despite her absence. Evelyne's voice trembled as she spoke of her friend.
"She was always there when I needed her," Evelyne said, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Even when she was going through her own struggles, she never let me feel alone."
Enrich swallowed, his throat tightening. "She was always there for both of us," he replied quietly, his mind replaying memories from their university years. They had been inseparable back then—Scarlett, with her fierce loyalty, had bound them together. "I know you've been trying to help me," Enrich said after a pause. "But I should've been there for you too. You've lost more than I have... not just Scarlett."
Evelyne shook her head gently. "We both lost her," she said, her voice wavering. "Scarlett asked me to look after you... but I haven't done a very good job."
Her admission struck Enrich deeply. He had been so consumed by his own pain, so overwhelmed by his sense of loss, that he hadn't fully considered how much effort Evelyne had put into fulfilling Scarlett's request. He felt guilty for making the task harder than it needed to be. Scarlett had meant as much to Evelyne as she had to him. And unlike him, Evelyne had lost her entire family.
Enrich reached across the table, placing his hand over hers. "I'm sorry, Evelyne," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I should've realized earlier... I've been selfish."
For a moment, they sat in silence, the enormity of their shared loss weighing down between them. Outside the grand room, the security team quietly continued their work, ensuring no interruptions, no leaks of information. The gravity of the evening wasn't in the political discussions they might have had—but in the shared grief they carried.
Evelyne managed a small smile, her fingers gently squeezing his. "It's not your fault, Enrich. We all grieve differently. But Scarlett wouldn't want us drowning in this. She wouldn't want us to lose ourselves."
Enrich nodded, though the thought felt hollow in his chest. "I know," he said softly. "But it's hard. Harder than I thought it would be."
Evelyne's gaze softened, and for the first time that evening, Enrich saw a flicker of understanding and peace pass between them. They had both lost so much, but at least they weren't alone in it.
After several hours, as the evening drew to a close, the security detail quietly checked the perimeter, ensuring the Empress could leave without attracting attention. Enrich, ever the diplomat, insisted Evelyne exit first. "It's better if no one sees us together," he said gently. "We can't risk any speculation."
Evelyne smiled softly, appreciating his tact. "You've always been careful," she said, her voice tinged with admiration. "It's one of the things I've always respected about you."
When she stood to leave, her security detail moved swiftly, escorting her out through the private entrance. Enrich remained behind, alone in the room, staring at the remnants of their meal. Half an hour later, he rose, slipping into the shadows as his own security team escorted him to the waiting Osgorian SUV outside.
Part 2
Half an hour later, Enrich stepped outside into the cool night air. The estate was quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. He walked slowly, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor until he reached the mansion's entrance. His Osgorian SUV was waiting just outside, its black exterior gleaming under the dim lights. The bulletproof vehicle, imposing in its design, was flanked by four others—two ahead of it and two behind. The car immediately in front of Enrich's SUV was a long black limousine, meant as a decoy, giving the appearance that it carried the most important figure in the group.
The convoy was a protective shell, designed to shield Enrich from any potential threats. He slipped into the back seat of the SUV, nodding to the security personnel as they closed the door behind him. The engine purred to life, and the convoy rolled forward, moving silently through the dark streets.
As they passed through the city, Enrich leaned back, staring out the window at the passing lights. His mind was still wrapped up in the events of the evening—the rawness of Evelyne's emotions, the weight of their shared grief. She had always been strong, composed, but tonight had shown him just how deeply she was hurting. And yet, she had spent so much of her energy trying to comfort him. It made him feel ashamed, knowing that he had pushed her away for so long, blind to the fact that she had lost just as much—if not more—than he had.
His thoughts spiraled, replaying the conversation over and over, each word a reminder of what they had both lost. The city outside blurred into a series of indistinct lights and shadows. He was exhausted, but sleep seemed impossible. His mind was too restless, too full of memories.
And then, in the blur of the city streets, he saw her.
Scarlett.
Standing at a bus stop, her blonde hair flowing in the soft light, her eyes focused ahead, as if waiting for the next bus. Enrich's breath caught in his throat, and he sat up straighter, his heart pounding in his chest. It can't be...
For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped. There she was, as vivid and real as ever, standing just a few feet away. His eyes locked onto her, unable to look away. Was she getting on the bus?
But then the convoy turned a corner, and when he glanced back, the bus stop was empty. The figure was gone. Enrich blinked, his heart still racing. The street was deserted, no sign of Scarlett or anyone else.
He let out a shaky breath, leaning back into the seat. She's gone, he reminded himself. Scarlett is dead.
His hands trembled slightly as he rubbed them together, trying to steady his thoughts. His mind had conjured her, a hallucination brought on by exhaustion and grief. It wasn't the first time he had imagined seeing her, but this time had felt different. She had seemed so real, so tangible.
He closed his eyes, trying to center himself. Get a grip, Enrich, he thought. You can't let this take over. You have too much at stake.
But the ache in his chest lingered, a reminder of the time he had lost. Time he could never get back.
His gaze drifted back to the window, watching the city lights fade as the convoy left the busier streets behind. In the silence of the car, Enrich's thoughts turned to Osgoria. His dream—the one he and Scarlett had shared, the one that had consumed so much of his time and energy—had it been worth it? Had all the lives he had saved, the peace he had fought so hard to secure, been worth the price he had paid?
The price they had both paid.
Scarlett had believed in his vision, had supported him every step of the way. But in the end, he had traded their precious time together for a future that still seemed uncertain. He had devoted himself to Osgoria, to creating a better world for people he didn't know, for people who might never understand what he had sacrificed. And now, with Scarlett gone, he wondered if any of it had truly mattered.
The SUV slowed as they approached the edge of the city, the convoy turning onto a quieter road that led toward Enrich's residence. He glanced at his reflection in the window, his face pale and drawn, exhaustion etched into every line. He had spent years fighting for a dream, but in the end, it had cost him everything.
As the convoy continued down the darkened road, Enrich closed his eyes, Scarlett's face still fresh in his mind. He couldn't change the past, couldn't bring her back. But the one thing he knew was that he had to keep going. For her. For Osgoria. For the dream that had taken so much from him—but had meant everything to Scarlett.
Part 3
It had been a week since Philip awoke in a haze at Audrey's, his recollection fragmented, the memory of that morning clouded with doubts and lingering guilt. Despite Audrey's repeated assurances that nothing improper had occurred, the image of her beside him, almost bare, sowed seeds of unease. The more she insisted they had merely slept, the more Philip's guilt gnawed at him, deepening his fears about how this might alter his budding connection with Galatea.
In an effort to steady his swirling thoughts, Philip had delved deeply into his professional role. As the newly appointed CEO of Graciasta Holding Corporation, managing approximately $5 billion in assets, his days were consumed by strategic decisions. The company's sleek headquarters, a towering structure of glass and steel, stood as a beacon of modernity in the financial district of Tochago, a few blocks away from his old workplace. Inside, the decor was a blend of sophistication and efficiency: open spaces with panoramic views of the city, minimalist furniture that spoke of chic elegance, and state-of-the-art technology seamlessly integrated into every conference room and executive suite.
Though new to the position, Philip tirelessly started implementing the portfolio adjustments that he felt were necessary. Anticipating shifts in the global market, he orchestrated a substantial offloading of electric vehicle-related firms. In their place, he increased investments in oil and gas-fueled automakers based in Osgoria, predicting a resurgence in traditional automotive sectors due to the upcoming war. He reduced exposure to sectors he deemed vulnerable to volatility, such as consumer discretionary companies, non-essential industrials, and certain technology firms. Recognizing potential growth in other areas, he expanded stakes in energy companies, particularly those involved in oil and gas exploration. Defense and aerospace firms saw increased investments as well, given the heightened global focus on security. Cybersecurity firms became a key addition, reflecting the rising importance of digital protection. Philip championed a significant shift towards essential industries such as consumer staples, healthcare, and utilities, aiming to solidify the firm's resilience amidst an uncertain economic climate.
On this particular day, as the sun began its descent, casting a golden glow over the cityscape, Philip stood by his office window, contemplating the intricate dance of trust and truth in his personal life. The reflection of the bustling streets below mirrored the turmoil he felt within.
His reverie was interrupted by a call from Galatea. "I'm downstairs, Philip. I came to pick you up," her voice came through soft and clear, a soothing balm to his frazzled nerves.
Relief washed over him as he grabbed his coat and made his way down. The lobby of his building was an expanse of tranquility, the soft murmur of the fountain blending with the muted clinks of coffee cups from the adjacent café. As he exited, he saw Galatea standing next to her car—a sleek, silver model that gleamed under the streetlights. Though undeniably beautiful, the car was specifically chosen for its understated elegance, designed not to draw unnecessary attention and to keep both of them out of the spotlight.
Her presence, poised and graceful, instantly lifted the heaviness he'd carried all week. "Ready to leave all this behind for the day?" she asked with a gentle smile, opening the passenger door for him with a flourish that was both playful and caring.
Philip couldn't help but smile, the tension easing from his shoulders as he settled into the comfort of the passenger seat. "More than ready, thanks to you," he replied, his heart lightening as they pulled away from the curb.
The drive was peaceful, the city lights blurring past them as Galatea navigated through the streets with effortless grace. Her easy confidence and the soft music playing in the background created a bubble of calm, a stark contrast to the chaos of his week.
"Galatea, I... about last week," Philip started, his voice hesitant. The vulnerability of the moment made him pause, the words catching in his throat.
She glanced at him, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that took him by surprise. "You've been carrying this all week, haven't you?" she said softly, reaching over to squeeze his hand reassuringly.
Philip nodded, the weight of his confession pressing down on him. "I woke up at Audrey's... bed… and things looked compromising. Though she said nothing happened and I don't remember much, but it's been troubling me ever since."
Galatea's gaze returned to the road ahead, a serene expression on her face. "I had a feeling something was weighing on you," she admitted gently. "Philip, people aren't perfect, and neither are relationships. What matters is honesty and how we choose to move forward."
He looked at her, relief mingling with uncertainty. "It doesn't change how you feel about me?"
She offered a small, reassuring smile. "No, it doesn't change how I feel. We're all navigating our own paths, and sometimes we stumble. But I believe in you, and I believe in us."
Deep down, however, Galatea was surprised by the intensity of her own reaction. She hadn't fully realized until this moment that she saw Philip as more than just a protégé. Before, she had viewed him as someone special, Alexander's son whom she had promised to guide and protect. But somewhere along the line, he had become increasingly central to her world. She now saw him not just as her protégé, but as her man.
She had been so accustomed to being the mature, watchful, and nurturing figure that her actions toward Philip hadn't changed much—except for a little more intimacy, a touch lingering a moment longer, a gaze that held unspoken feelings. Galatea was starting to wonder if she should clarify her feelings with him, but feared it might complicate things further.
A pang of disappointment tugged at her heart. She had just allowed herself to hope for a deeper connection, but now she wondered if she was asking for too much. After all, Audrey could give Philip something she never could—an heir, the very thing that mattered so much to families like theirs. She told herself not to wish for a future that might not be hers to begin with, or to learn to accept what might inevitably happen—that Philip could have someone else by his side, with or without her.
But even as these rational thoughts formed, her heart ached. It was all logically sound, but emotionally, it was not easy.
"Thank you for understanding," Philip said softly, his eyes searching hers.
Galatea forced a brighter smile, pushing aside her inner turmoil. "Let's not let this overshadow what we have," she replied. "We can face whatever comes, together."
As they drove on, the city lights gave way to the starlit sky, the openness of the road mirroring the uncertainties ahead. The massive Graciasta estate loomed in the distance on the outskirts of Tochago, its grandeur both comforting and isolating.
Philip felt a profound gratitude for Galatea's empathy and strength, her approach not just soothing but also inspiring. He was unaware of the silent battle she waged within herself, the lines between mentorship and love blurring in her heart.
By the time they reached the estate, Philip felt a renewed sense of connection, their bond seemingly strengthened by the trials of the day. Yet, as Galatea watched him walk ahead toward the grand entrance, she couldn't help but feel the lingering ache in her heart. Rationally, she accepted the complexities of their world, but emotionally, it was a struggle.
In the quiet of the evening, with the vastness of the estate enveloping them, Philip felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, confident that together, they could navigate any storm. Galatea, meanwhile, resolved to cherish the moments they shared, even as she contemplated whether to reveal the true depth of her feelings. She wondered if it was time to step beyond her role as protector and let Philip see her heart, despite the risks it might entail.