The morning after the gathering dawned bright and clear, sunlight streaming through my windows with cheerful abandon. I woke feeling lighter than I had in weeks, the memory of Alexander's words—someone precious, someone dear—warming me from the inside.

  Breakfast was a quiet affair, just the two of us in the small dining room that had become our usual morning spot. Alexander looked relaxed, more at ease than I'd yet seen him, reviewing correspondence while occasionally making small observations about the previous evening's success.

  "You were the highlight of the gathering," he said, setting down a letter to meet my eyes. "Several people have already sent notes asking when they might call on us again. It seems you've made quite an impression."

  Heat crept into my cheeks. "I think the credit goes to my excellent host. You made it easy."

  "I simply provided the venue. Your grace and intelligence did the rest." He smiled, that soft private smile that made my heart skip. "I have a visitor coming this morning—an old family friend. Business matters, unfortunately. Will you be alright on your own for a few hours?"

  "Of course. I was planning to spend time in the library anyway."

  "Perfect." He stood, pausing beside my chair to rest his hand briefly on my shoulder. The casual touch sent warmth cascading through me. "I'll find you when I'm finished."

  I watched him go, my shoulder still tingling from his touch, hope and happiness tangling in my chest.

  ---

  I was halfway to the library when voices drew my attention to the entrance hall. Curiosity pulled me toward the marble-floored space just in time to see Margaret opening the door to admit a visitor.

  A woman swept in with the kind of effortless grace that suggested years of etiquette training. She was perhaps twenty-five, beautiful in a way that made my breath catch—chestnut hair artfully arranged, emerald eyes bright and intelligent, her gown a masterpiece of subtle elegance that probably cost more than everything in my wardrobe combined.

  And Alexander—Alexander's face lit with recognition and warmth as he descended the stairs to greet her.

  "Serina," he said, taking both her hands in his. "It's been far too long."

  "Alexander." Her voice was cultured, melodious. "You look well. The countryside clearly agrees with you."

  They stood close enough that their joined hands seemed intimate, and something sharp and ugly twisted in my chest. I should leave. This was clearly a private reunion, and I had no business witnessing it. But my feet refused to move.

  "Come, let's talk in my study," Alexander said, offering his arm. Serina took it with familiar ease, and they moved past me toward the stairs. Alexander's attention was so focused on his guest that he didn't notice me standing frozen in the shadowed alcove.

  But Serina noticed. Her gaze flicked to me for just a moment, assessing and dismissing in the same glance, before returning to Alexander with a smile.

  The door to his study closed behind them, and I stood alone in the entrance hall, my chest tight with an emotion I couldn't quite name. Or didn't want to name.

  Jealousy. This was jealousy, raw and painful and completely inappropriate.

  ---

  The library offered no sanctuary. I selected a book at random and settled into my usual chair by the window, but the words refused to arrange themselves into meaning. My mind kept circling back to that entrance hall, to the warmth in Alexander's voice, the easy familiarity of their interaction.

  Of course he had close friends. Probably many friends, connections built over years I hadn't been part of. Beautiful, sophisticated friends who understood his world in ways I never could. Friends who didn't stumble through basic dances or need coaching on proper etiquette.

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  I pressed my fingers to my eyes, trying to push back the burning sensation threatening to become tears. This was ridiculous. I had no claim on Alexander, no right to feel territorial about his attention. We'd known each other for mere weeks. Whatever was growing between us—if anything actually was growing—it was new and fragile and probably mostly in my imagination.

  But the memory of his words from last night refused to be dismissed. Someone precious. Someone dear. Had those been mere pleasantries? The kind of thing he said to everyone?

  Movement outside the window caught my attention. I looked down to see Alexander and Serina walking in the garden, her hand resting lightly on his arm. They were talking, Alexander gesturing as he explained something, Serina laughing at whatever he'd said. They looked... comfortable. Natural together.

  They looked perfect together.

  The book slipped from my fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud I barely registered. My vision blurred, hot tears finally spilling over despite my best efforts to contain them.

  "This is stupid," I whispered to the empty room. "You're being stupid."

  But knowing that didn't make the ache in my chest any less real.

  ---

  I fled to my room eventually, unable to bear watching them in the garden any longer. The cheerful morning light now felt mocking, too bright for the dark tangle of emotions churning through me.

  Kotori sat on my desk, its crystal surface catching the sunlight. I stared at it for a long moment, then reached for it with shaking hands.

  > What should I do if the person I care about is close with another woman?

  【Kotori】

  ********************

  Probability: 25%

  I apologize. Questions regarding romantic emotions fall outside my primary competencies. However, general psychological literature suggests that honest communication about one's feelings is typically considered important. The specific circumstances of individual relationships require nuanced understanding beyond my current analytical capacity.

  ********************

  [Mana: 23/70] (-10)

  I laughed, but it came out more like a sob. "Twenty-five percent. You really are useless at this, aren't you?"

  But even Kotori's uncertain advice echoed truth. Honest communication. As if I could simply walk up to Alexander and say what? That I was jealous of his guest? That I'd spent the last hour crying over a relationship that might exist only in my imagination?

  I flopped back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. In my past life, I'd avoided situations like this. Kept my head down, focused on work, never let myself get tangled in messy emotional complications. It had been safer. Lonely, perhaps, but safe.

  Here, I'd let my guard down. Let myself feel things I'd carefully avoided feeling before. And now I was paying the price.

  A knock at my door made me sit up hastily, scrubbing at my eyes. "Yes?"

  "Miss Eliana?" It was Margaret's voice. "The marquis asked me to let you know his guest has departed. He's looking for you."

  My heart jumped into my throat. "I... thank you. I'll be down shortly."

  "Are you alright, miss? You sound unwell."

  "I'm fine. Just tired."

  Silence, then: "Very well. He'll be in the east drawing room when you're ready."

  I waited until her footsteps faded before moving to the mirror. My eyes were red-rimmed, my face blotchy. Wonderful. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to reduce the obvious signs of crying, then took several slow breaths.

  I could do this. I could face him without falling apart. I was an adult, supposedly mature and capable. I could handle seeing the man I was falling for without dissolving into tears.

  Probably.

  ---

  Alexander stood when I entered the drawing room, his expression brightening immediately. "There you are. I was hoping we could take tea together."

  "That would be lovely." My voice sounded relatively normal, which felt like a small victory.

  He studied me as I settled into a chair, his brow furrowing slightly. "Are you alright? You look..."

  "Tired," I supplied quickly. "I didn't sleep well."

  "Ah." He poured tea for both of us, the domestic gesture somehow even more painful given my current emotional state. "I apologize for abandoning you all morning. Serina's visit went longer than expected."

  "It's fine." I wrapped my hands around the teacup, grateful for something to hold. "Old friends are important."

  "Yes, though we're not as close as we once were." He settled back in his chair, his gaze still concernedly focused on me. "Her family and mine have been connected for generations. She's recently married—a count from the eastern provinces. She was passing through and wanted to catch up."

  Married. She was married. The knot in my chest loosened fractionally.

  "That's nice," I managed.

  "Eliana." His voice was gentle, probing. "Are you certain you're alright? You seem distressed."

  I should have said yes. Should have smiled and deflected and kept my messy feelings to myself. But looking at him—at the genuine concern in his eyes, the way he leaned forward as if ready to catch me if I fell—something in me cracked.

  "I saw you with her this morning," I said quietly. "In the entrance hall, and then in the garden. You looked... happy together. Comfortable."

  Understanding dawned in his expression, followed by something softer. "And that bothered you."

  I couldn't meet his eyes. "I have no right to be bothered. Your friendships are your own business."

  "Eliana." He set down his teacup and moved to kneel beside my chair, taking my free hand in both of his. "Look at me. Please."

  Reluctantly, I met his gaze.

  "Serina is an old friend," he said carefully. "Someone I've known since childhood. I'm fond of her, certainly. But whatever you're imagining, whatever worry is putting that look in your eyes—it's unfounded. She's happily married, and even if she weren't..." He squeezed my hand gently. "You are the one I've been looking for all morning. You are the one whose company I sought. No one else."

  The tears threatened again, but for different reasons this time. "Really?"

  "Really." His smile was soft, almost tender. "Did you think a few hours apart would change what I told you last night? You're precious to me, Eliana. That doesn't shift with the wind."

  I set down my teacup with shaking hands and, without letting myself overthink it, leaned forward to rest my forehead against his shoulder. His arms came around me immediately, solid and warm and reassuring.

  "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm being ridiculous."

  "You're being human." His hand stroked gently through my hair. "And if it makes you feel any better, I find your jealousy rather... endearing."

  I pulled back just enough to see his face, my own heating. "Endearing?"

  "It suggests you care." His expression was impossibly soft. "Which is something I very much hoped might be true."

  My heart, which had spent the morning in pieces, began to reassemble itself. "It's true," I said quietly. "More than it probably should be."

  "Then we're in agreement." He stood, drawing me up with him, keeping my hands in his. "Now, let's have our tea properly. And perhaps afterwards, if you're feeling better, we could walk in the garden? I promise not to spend the entire time talking to anyone but you."

  The lightness in his tone made me smile despite everything. "I'd like that."

  As we settled back into our chairs, proper distance restored but something fundamental having shifted, I felt the last of the morning's darkness lift. Serina was his past. But I—I had the chance to be his future.

  And that was worth more than I could put into words.