The colorful leaves quickly dried up and fell easily, even with the gentlest breeze. Winter was already approaching. The scorching sunlight in the blue sky was subdued by the cold, casting a cool light. Now, unless a fire was lit, the chill that seeped through the windows would bite to the bone. Vivianne and Sophie spent their afternoon cozily seated in front of the fireplace.

Vivianne was practicing with her cello in her arms, while Sophie hummed along to the music as she knitted gloves for the winter.

A week earlier, Vivianne had obtained a sheet of music by Jerome Raven. On the day she had gone with Edwin to meet Theo, they had stopped by a music shop—partly to cool off, partly out of curiosity.

When Vivianne asked the shopkeeper for Jerome Raven’s sheet music, he tilted his head, saying it was a name he’d never heard before. But then, as if something came to mind, he snapped his fingers.

“Oh! You mean that musician who died so young!”

“What a shame. If Jerome Raven were still alive, the music world would look very different today.”

The shopkeeper, who didn’t know the full details of how the talented young musician had died, clicked his tongue with regret. At the same time, Vivianne’s heart pounded with unease and shame.

Shame and embarrassment weren’t feelings reserved only for when she did bad things with Edwin.

As if by fate, there was only one piece of Jerome Raven’s sheet music in the shop. To her horror, it was none other than Lamento d’Amore.

However, the sheet was old and worn, with some sections partially lost. The piece wasn’t easy either, and since it had been written for piano, she would have to arrange it herself for the cello.

On top of that, the missing parts would need to be filled in through her own interpretation, making it a challenging task.

As the practice session grew longer, Vivianne set her cello down and pulled the music stand toward her. Her eyes scanned the notes quickly until they returned to the name Jerome Raven.

It was just a name. And yet, she felt as though she were face-to-face with him—a man whose face she didn’t even know.

Did he have eyes as vividly blue as Edwin’s?

Was his hair just as dark?

Since they were brothers, their features were probably quite similar.

If he were still alive, he might have become a famous musician adored by many women, just like Edwin.

Vivianne gently closed her eyes and held the sheet music to her chest.

The thought that the man who had written this piece was someone Edwin had loved made the music precious to her as well.

A wave of relief washed over her at the thought that she had been able to find it.

As her thoughts flowed naturally, Edwin’s face came to mind.

She hadn’t seen him all day. The board of directors had come from Farrington, and he had been tied up with them.

As she mulled things over, Vivianne suddenly remembered that she hadn’t received a receipt lately.

It made sense—she had been so focused on practicing the cello that she hadn’t done anything worthy of earning one.

Regardless of her relationship with Edwin, the debt had to be repaid. It was directly tied to her mother’s safety.

With that decision made, Vivianne gently placed the sheet music back in its box and left her room.

She went to find Abernathy to ask if there was any work she could do.

Abernathy told her that sometimes doing nothing was the best kind of help, but she pleaded with him to give her something to do.

And so, she was given the task of delivering tea and refreshments to the meeting room.

Holding the tray, Vivianne felt a thrill at the thought of receiving a payment receipt from Edwin. Her steps toward the meeting room felt light.

────── ✾ ──────

The scraping of blades filling the ballroom was as biting as the winter wind that had settled over Rodinia.

Edwin, who had the upper hand, lost focus when Vivianne appeared through the door that had opened in the distance.

As a result, he conceded a point and brought the match to a halt.

As the clashing of the two men’s blades ceased and all eyes turned toward her, the clacking of her heels also stopped.

Vivianne, an uninvited guest, stood frozen in place, her eyes wide. Embarrassed, she clutched a tray holding two drinks.

Lately, Vivianne had been actively—almost mischievously—diligent.

Ever since returning from Farrington, she had seemed to forget all about repayment receipts, only to suddenly begin putting in her best effort out of nowhere.

She often appeared in the most unexpected places, just as she had a few days prior, barging unannounced into a meeting. Appearing utterly out of the blue under the pretense of bringing tea and refreshments, she had then given Edwin a playfully blatant glance. After the meeting ended, she trotted after him and persistently asked for her receipt.

Since Edwin couldn’t just let her barge all the way into his bedroom and leave empty-handed, he bit and kissed her sweet lips to his heart’s content.

Yet with every encounter, he felt his patience nearing its limit.

Whenever Vivianne, with that innocent and harmless face, hovered around him under the pretense of receipts, he was gripped by the urge to leave a mark—something—on that sacred territory he so desperately wanted to protect.

“… I’m sorry. Did I interrupt?”

Edwin, having removed his fencing mask, ran a hand through his damp hair and chuckled.

He motioned to Roarke to leave, and the ballroom-turned-fencing-arena became a space just for the two of them.

Vivianne set the tray down on the round table by the window.

“You should’ve given Mr. Roarke a chance to catch his breath. I brought two drinks on purpose, you know.”

She placed one glass on the table and handed the other to Edwin, who had come closer.

He accepted it and downed the entire cup in one go before setting it down again.

“Would you like another?” Vivianne asked.

“You drink it.”

“Shall I?”

Vivianne, smiling innocently, drank half of the second glass.

Their eyes met as Edwin silently watched her. She offered him the rest of the drink.

“You were sweating a lot. Drink this. It’ll help with your thirst.”

Edwin glanced once at the drink she offered, then again at her clear, unclouded eyes, before drinking the remaining half.

“… Did I make you end the match early?”

Vivianne, tidying up the empty cups on the tray, looked apologetic.

Edwin closed his eyes and tilted his head back, exhaling a deep, heavy sigh.

It was time to set some limits; he knew himself better than anyone.

But the woman in front of him constantly tested his self-control, as if knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to win against it.

“Edwin?”

He opened his eyes and looked directly at Vivianne, who wore a curious expression.

“You’re working awfully hard these days. What are you trying to do—pay off your debt early?”

“Well, I mean… It’s something I have to do anyway. And I just feel like I’ve been too lazy lately.”

A faint smile played on Vivianne’s lips, and from her wafted a sweet, floral scent—the kind that made his head throb, blurred his vision, and left him craving only blind, instinctive moments.

“By the way, Edwin, you’re really interesting.”

If Vivianne Aveline hadn’t deliberately placed herself back on his testing ground by choosing to be audacious, he might have endured it.

If she had just received her receipt and turned away, the day might have returned to its usual rhythm.

If only the tip of Vivianne’s round nose, as she rose slightly on her toes, hadn’t grazed the nape of his neck, then maybe that calm might have held.

“You’re sweating a lot, but… how come you don’t smell?”

Sniff, sniff. Her soft breath cooled the damp skin of his neck as her nose traced a downward path, like a curious explorer charting unfamiliar territory.

“You really have a fascinating bo—”

The fencing mask slipped from Edwin’s hand and hit the floor.

At some point, Vivianne had ended up sitting on the table, and the glass spilled over due to the violent shaking.

In that moment of lost reason, Edwin saw nothing but her.

He devoured her full lips, and his hand slipped beneath her skirt, gripping her slender thigh.

If Vivianne hadn’t cupped his cheek and kept their faces close, who knew what might have happened?

“E-Edwin… what’s wrong with you?”

Her innocent, pure gray eyes rippled with confusion.

Seeing her pale face, Edwin gritted his teeth and scowled. Burying his forehead in her small shoulder, he tried to cool the heat in his body. But against the woman who smelled of flowers, his efforts were utterly futile.

“Don’t do things like this again.”

Raising his head, Edwin spoke coldly.

All his attention was focused on Vivianne as she slowly bit her wet lower lip.

He needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Just do what you’re told. Don’t go beyond that.”

Edwin turned away, snatched his mask from the floor, and left the ballroom. 

Vivianne remained seated, dazed and alone.

────── ✾ ──────

A few days later, late at night, a knock came at Edwin’s bedroom door. When he saw that it was Vivianne, he frowned deeply.

Despite his warning, her cheeky and audacious behavior hadn’t stopped.

Holding her cello, Vivianne came in without permission, plopped herself down in her usual spot, and gave him a sheepish smile.

Edwin, who had folded his newspaper and tossed it onto the table, looked clearly displeased.

“Even if you do things I didn’t ask for, I’m not writing you a receipt. I told you—only do what you’re told.”

“This isn’t a performance to earn a receipt. Um… It’s just… a gift. From me.”

Edwin’s brow twitched faintly.

Vivianne smiled shyly yet brightly as she set up her cello.

Lifting her bow and warming up her fingers, she looked over at him as if waiting for a signal.

Edwin gave a small wave of his hand, telling her to begin.

He had already made up his mind to send her straight back to her room after the performance.

But that resolve didn’t last long.

As the sweet melody began to echo through the room—familiar and warm—a short, hollow laugh escaped his lips.

It was a piece that inevitably brought back memories of the Battle of Greenford.

The song, revived through Vivianne’s cello, brought back even the moment Edwin had first seen his brother’s name on the battlefield.

His dead brother’s song—Jerome Raven’s Lamento d’Amore—resurrected not through the piano, but through the cello, felt as though it had always belonged to Vivianne. So much so that one might mistakenly believe Jerome had foreseen this future and gifted the piece to her.

Edwin’s mind was wiped clean by Vivianne’s performance.

No thoughts. No worries. No burdens.

A world of nothingness.

A ruined world, where only Vivianne and he remained.

Vivianne, having finished the long performance, held onto the final note, unwilling to release its lingering resonance.

But the end always comes.

At last, her bow lifted from the strings.

With calm breaths, Vivianne slowly opened her eyes.

A heavy silence settled between them.

Her gaze followed Edwin as he stood from his seat at a measured pace. He came to her and gently lifted her up.

The cello meant nothing to him at that moment.

When the expensive instrument tumbled to the floor, Vivianne, startled, reached out in a panic.

But before she could react, her lips were stolen.

The kiss was languid and deep. Tender. Slow. Exceedingly affectionate.

“Edwin, th-the cello…”

Through the small gap between them, she tried to retrieve it, but Edwin didn’t let her go. Though the kiss was calm, his grip was firm and decisive, stronger than ever. Even when Vivianne stumbled back and fell onto the bed, the kiss did not break.

“Edw…”

His hand slid to her waist, untying the ribbon that held her clothing together. Her garments, once tightly wrapped around her torso, loosened.

With even the lightest pull of his hand, they slipped down to her hips.

His hands were as precise and tender as if tuning a cello’s strings.

His lips traced down her nape, and when they finally reached a sacred place, they left a mark—like a seal of ownership.

Everything unfolded in order.

There was no urgency, no violence—only something that felt deeply familiar, like reclaiming what had always been his. Like something done every day.

He returned to her mouth, swallowing her sweet lips again. As their warmth intertwined, soft smacking sounds echoed between them.

Edwin cupped Vivianne’s cheek—and only then did he notice the dampness against his palm.

He finally looked at her.

Vivianne lay there, half-naked, her hair tangled, her lips damp.

Their eyes locked in silence as tears welled in her reddened eyes and rolled down her temples.

She looked like a painting—an image of beauty not unlike a masterpiece hanging over a lake. The only difference was that her image stirred a desire in him—one he hadn’t anticipated.

With a stunned, bitter scoff, Edwin ran a rough hand through his hair.

Without a word, he pulled away from Vivianne and left the bedroom.

And left alone once more, Vivianne turned and clutched the blanket to her chest. Burying her face in the fabric, thick with his scent, she sobbed quietly.