⋆.˚𓍯𓂃 ✂ ༘⋆.˚𓍯𓂃 ✂ ༘⋆.˚𓍯𓂃 ✂ ༘⋆

It was the night after the unforgettable dance evaluation.

Aunt Sally was still at her shop, working late to finish a gown for one of her clients. At the small worktable nearby, Aster sat quietly, stitching a scarf she had started earlier that week.

She paused, staring at the yarn bunched in her lap. ‘I don’t even know why I’m making this. It’s the middle of summer… and it’s not like I’m going to give it to him…’

Her cheeks flushed as Randall’s face slipped into her memory. No matter how hard she tried, her thoughts always wandered back to the dance—and always, back to him. She let out a long sigh.

Aunt Sally glanced up, smirking knowingly. “Alright. What’s up this time?”

Aster blurted out before she could stop herself. 

“Aunt Sally… I don’t understand what’s happening to me. Whenever I’m around Lord Randall, my heart flutters. I don’t understand myself—and I don’t understand… him. One moment, he’s warm; the next, his gaze turns cold. He’s indifferent, yet kind. Strict, but… gentle. I can never read him.” 

She buried her face in her hands.

“And the dance… ever since the dance… I don’t even know if I can look him in the eyes again.”

Her voice lowered. 

“I don’t know if it’s because he scares me, or because I’m nervous, or because he’s helped me so many times. Maybe it’s just gratitude. But… it feels wrong. Every time my heart flutters, I feel like I’m cheating on Lord Ranley. I know I like Lord Ranley. I want to stay loyal to him. Isn’t it awful?”

Aunt Sally set down the gown and turned to her. 

“Oh, Aster. How could it be cheating when there’s no promise yet between you and this Lord Ranley of yours?” Then her brows lifted. “Or… wait, is there?”

Aster bit her lip. “Not really. Or maybe? I don’t know… because if he’s the boy I met back then, the one who gave me the necklace, then maybe it does count. Maybe we made a promise without realizing it?”

Aunt Sally chuckled warmly. “Oh, my innocent Aster. How cute of you.” 

She crossed over and gently patted her head. 

“A memory, a gift, a dream—those may tie us to people, but they don’t chain us. Your heart is only guilty if it betrays something real. Tell me… does your heart flutter for Lord Ranley the way it does for Lord Randall?”

Aster hesitated. 

“Not exactly. They flutter for different reasons. With Lord Ranley… I long to be close to him. I want to open up about the past. My heart flutters when I see his kind smile,and whenever  I think of that dream about the boy I met in my childhood, I feel hope. But with Lord Randall…” 

Her words tumbled out nervously. 

“Because he always catches me at my worst moments, I panic around him, and my heart goes wild. I want to disappear… but at the same time, I don’t. I want the moment to last. Even after it ends, I keep replaying it in my head. It’s insane. What am I really feeling?”

Aunt Sally thought for a moment, then gave a soft smile.

“Hmm… For your Lord Ranley, I’d say it’s fondness, admiration, and longing — the hope tied to a memory of the past. As for your Lord Randall, I won’t say it’s love, but a different kind of pull. Perhaps intrigue, curiosity… gratitude even. He unsettles you because he always seems to appear in your most vulnerable moments. And that can feel confusing. But all of these things are natural. You’re not betraying anyone, Aster. You’re simply discovering what your heart is capable of. You’re still young, and there is so much more for you to feel and to learn. Let your heart welcome all the emotions life will bring.”

Aster lowered her gaze, fiddling with the scarf in her lap.

“Then that settles it,” she said with an innocent little smile. 

“It’s still clear that I like Lord Ranley. I’m probably just… embarrassed around Lord Randall since he’s seen all my worst moments. Haha…Thank you for clearing that up, Aunt Sally.”

“Huh? That’s not quite what I—” Aunt Sally stopped herself, sighing in amusement. 

“Oh, Aster.”  She reached over and squeezed Aster’s shoulder before turning to pack away the finished gown for her client.

“Just remember,…hearts have room enough for many kinds of feelings. In time, you’ll learn which ones are fleeting and which ones are true.”

・┆✦ At Celentine Academy Dormitory ✦ ┆・

Randall already knew what Wren would say, which was why he deliberately stayed late at the Council office. By the time he returned to their quarters, the halls of Celentine Academy were quiet.

He and Wren shared a spacious suite: two separate bedrooms facing each other, joined by a luxurious living room with a balcony overlooking the grounds. The grand double doors of the living room connected directly to the dormitory hall.

Randall pushed them open, half-dreading, half-expecting what he would find.

Just as Randall expected, Wren was in the living room, a book slipping from his fingers, his head drooping forward. He hadn’t been reading at all. He had waited, and then dozed off.

Suppressing a sigh, Randall slipped quietly across the room and into his bedroom before Wren stirred. He sank into the couch by his own balcony doors, loosening his shoulders at last.

His thoughts still lingered on the dance with Aster. A sigh escaped him as he leaned back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His cheeks felt warm.

“What was I thinking?”

Then the door burst open.

“You forbade me from being friends with her,” Wren snapped, storming in, “but you openly danced with her?”

Randall closed his eyes, unwilling to answer.

“If you were planning to avoid this topic, you shouldn’t have turned on the lights,” Wren pressed. “At least then I wouldn’t know you’d already arrived. You came late on purpose… making me wait—because you knew you did something you shouldn’t have.”

“Don’t start with me. I’m not in the mood to argue right now.”

Wren’s jaw tightened. “You know why you weren’t allowed to join the dance, and yet—”

“I just helped her with her dance evaluation,” Randall cut in, sitting up straighter. “I don’t see anything wrong with that. Even Professor Theo didn’t protest.”

“That’s because he couldn’t protest—because you had already led Miss Aster into the dance!”

Randall’s eyes narrowed, his voice calm but edged with frost. “Miss Aster again, huh?”

“Don’t twist this.” Wren scowled. “Whether I call her Miss Aster or Miss Winslow isn’t the issue. You’re deflecting as always.”

“Should I have let her fail, then?” Randall countered.

“I had already volunteered to be her partner before you interrupted. Don’t think I didn’t see you at the courtyard yesterday—purposely approaching her, leading her into a dance, refusing to let her go. I let it pass because your intention seemed to help her. But today… there were too many prying eyes. Rumors will spread, and they’ll reach—”

“It was just one dance. It wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Sighing, Wren stepped closer, his voice hardening. “Is that what you think? You once told me to be careful—that curiosity can be mistaken for something deeper, that it’s cruel to mislead someone. But aren’t you the one doing that now?”

Randall sat motionless, his expression stoic.

“You know you can’t marry her,” Wren pressed, his tone dropping low. “You’ll only hurt her in the end. So stop it now, before—”

Randall finally drew in a long breath and cut him off, his tone calm but weary. “I am not misleading her. And besides, she already has someone she likes.”

His voice softened, almost tired. “You don’t need to worry about something so trivial.”

He rose, brushing past Wren. At his balcony door, he paused with one hand on the frame. “And I can handle myself.” With that, he stepped outside, the door shutting firmly behind him.

Left alone, Wren sank onto the couch Randall had vacated and exhaled a heavy sigh.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧