“Caught you.”
Rosylin froze.
For a moment, she couldn’t even breathe.
She was still holding the piece of bread in her hand, her other hand wrapped around the cup of water.
She slowly raised her head.
Sylvan stood above her.
His arms were positioned on either side of her, blocking the narrow space she had been about to escape through.
Rosylin stared at him.
And, despite the situation, she was still chewing.
Sylvan said nothing.
He simply looked at her.
His blue eyes moved from her face to the piece of bread in her hand, then back to her eyes.
Rosylin swallowed nervously.
Neither of them spoke.
Then Sylvan noticed something at the corner of her lips.
A tiny piece of bread had remained there.
His expression changed only slightly.
Without saying anything, he reached toward her face and gently removed it with his fingers.
Rosylin’s eyes widened.
She immediately stopped moving.
Sylvan looked at the tiny piece of bread between his fingers before casually brushing it away.
“Finish eating first,” he said.
Rosylin blinked.
“What?”
His voice remained calm.
“We have plenty of time to talk.”
He stepped back.
Rosylin expected him to leave.
He didn’t.
Instead, Sylvan pulled a nearby chair and sat beside her.
He simply watched.
Rosylin lowered her eyes.
Her heart was beating far too quickly.
She had spent the entire evening hiding from him.
She had avoided the library.
She had stayed inside her room while the celebration continued below.
She had waited until the entire mansion became quiet before sneaking out for something as simple as bread and water.
And now, of all people, he had found her.
She tried to continue eating.
But it was difficult with him sitting beside her.
Sylvan said nothing.
He didn’t rush her.
He didn’t ask another question.
He only watched her.
Three years.
Three years since the last time he had seen her.
Three years since a strange girl had appeared in his life for only a few brief moments and then disappeared before he could understand who she was.
He had told himself he had forgotten her.
He hadn’t.
During his years with the Imperial Legion, her face had returned to his thoughts at the most unexpected moments.
Sometimes it was her eyes.
Sometimes the sound of her voice.
Sometimes the memory of the garden.
And sometimes, most irritatingly, it was the promise she had made before running away.
When you visit the castle again, I will tell you who I am.
He had remembered every word.
And now she was sitting beside him.
Alive.
Real.
And still trying to hide.
Rosylin finally finished the last piece of bread.
She carefully placed her hands in her lap.
For a few seconds, she remained silent.
Then Sylvan spoke.
“Do you remember the promise you made three years ago?”
Rosylin’s fingers tightened.
Of course she remembered.
How could she forget?
She slowly lifted her eyes toward him.
Sylvan was already watching her.
There was something different in his expression tonight.
He was still composed.
Still cold.
But beneath that calmness was something she hadn’t expected to see.
Impatience.
Three years of it.
“You said you would tell me who you were the next time I came here,” he continued.
Rosylin looked away.
“I remember.”
“Good.”
His answer was quiet.
Too quiet.
She could feel the weight of his attention.
“I waited,” he said.
Rosylin looked at him again.
For the first time, there was something almost vulnerable beneath his controlled expression.
Not weakness.
Something closer to frustration.
He had waited three years for an answer that should have taken only a few seconds to give.
“And this time,” he said, “I won’t let you disappear so easily.”
Rosylin’s heart sank.
Her eyes moved toward the corridor.
The hallway was empty.
If she ran now—
She could perhaps reach the corner.
Maybe the stairs.
Maybe her room.
Her eyes measured the distance without even realizing she was doing it.
Sylvan noticed.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
“Don’t.”
Rosylin looked back at him.
He leaned slightly against the chair.
“If you’re thinking about running,” he said calmly, “you should reconsider.”
She remained silent.
“I am faster than you.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
Sylvan’s smile deepened.
“If I decide to catch someone,” he added, “I don’t usually fail.”
Rosylin stared at him.
She hated that he sounded so certain.
And worse—
She knew he was probably right.
Three years ago, she had managed to disappear before he could understand who she was.
Tonight, it would not be so easy.
She lowered her eyes.
For several moments, neither of them spoke.
Then, finally, she answered.
“I’m just someone who lives here.”
Sylvan stared at her.
Silence.
Rosylin waited.
He didn’t believe her.
She could see it in his eyes.
“That’s all?” he asked.
She nodded faintly.
Sylvan leaned back.
“Interesting.”
Rosylin looked at him cautiously.
He studied her face for another long moment.
Then she asked quietly,
“Then what exactly do you want to know?”
For a second, Sylvan said nothing.
Then the corner of his mouth lifted.
“A ghost?”
Rosylin blinked.
He gave a quiet, mocking laugh.
“Perhaps that’s what you are.”
She frowned.
Before she could respond, Sylvan suddenly reached for the back of her chair and pulled it toward him.
The chair slid across the floor.
Rosylin gasped softly.
Now she was much closer to him.
She looked at him with startled eyes.
Sylvan’s amusement faded.
His blue eyes held hers.
Three years of searching for an answer seemed to settle into that single look.
He had finally found her.
And this time, he had no intention of losing her again.
His voice was quiet when he spoke.
“You’ve avoided me long enough.”
Rosylin swallowed.
Sylvan leaned back slightly, still watching her.
“So tonight,” he said, “you are going to answer me properly.”
Rosylin said nothing.
Sylvan’s eyes remained fixed on hers.
“I have plenty of time.”
The faintest smile returned to his lips.
“And I’m not going anywhere.”
Rosylin’s heart began to race.
For the first time that night, she understood something clearly.
She wasn’t escaping him.
Not tonight.
And Sylvan—
after waiting three years—
wasn’t willing to let her go easily.