When Angie opened the closet, there was a box for storing letters. After that, she saw a dress hanging neatly on a hanger. It was the dress that the master had sent her with the fourth letter. She still vividly remembers how surprised she was when she first saw the dress.
The pure white satin dress with the ivory ribbon was dazzlingly beautiful. And it was familiar. The marigold lace around the neck was none other than her own fabric. It had been made with great care and brought to the Duke's residence by Mrs. Dunst, who had commissioned it from her parents a few months ago. She had never dreamed that it would be returned to her like this.
Angie stroked the sleeve of her dress, feeling its soft texture, and then turned her attention to the letter. She put the letter deep in her pocket and went out. The sunlight was so warm that she wanted to sit on the steps of the back door of the mansion and savor it during her break.
It was such a short letter that the expression “savoring it” itself seemed vain. But every time Angie reread it and pondered it, her heart trembled.
"Angie. The treatment is almost over. I think it's a success. I'll see you in two weeks. Angie, I love you. I miss you so much, I'm going crazy. I can't believe I haven't seen you in almost a year. I'll see you soon. Just wait a little longer."
The letter was read over and over again. Angie read it again and again as if there was another meaning hidden between the lines. It didn’t feel real. She also couldn’t believe that she hadn’t seen him in almost a year, or almost 11 months to be exact.
I can't believe I'm going to see Kai again soon... This isn't a dream, is it? It doesn't feel real.
Angie folded the letter again and put it deep in her skirt pocket. Then she put a hand on her chest as if trying to control her heart which was swelling with happiness. At that moment, the handwriting that Martin Silva had written in her dream flashed through her mind.
"Angie. You have to wake up. You have to get off that...that island!"
It had been a long time since Angie had seen him, as she hadn't dreamed in a long time. Was he really an illusion? It was too vivid to be a dream, but seeing him not appearing for so long made her think...
“Angie! What are you doing here?”
Angie turned her head back to reality at the familiar voice. At that moment, sunlight streamed into the back steps of the mansion, casting a backlight on the man’s face. Angie involuntarily took a breath as his flaxen hair sparkled and covered half of his face.
For a brief moment, Michael looked very much like someone. He resembled the deceased Lord Edward and the young master. Although the hair color and eyes were different, there was something about his facial features that reminded him of them.
“I was wondering where you went, but you were resting here? Aren’t you cold?”
“Uh... Yeah. Just going to get some fresh air.”
Angie lowered her hand, which had been placed on her forehead to block the sunlight. At that moment, something fell from Michael’s hand. It was the chestnuts he always kept in his pocket to give to squirrels whenever he saw them. When he bent down to pick them up, Angie got up from the steps and crouched on the ground to help him. And then, as she absentmindedly glanced at the nape of his neck, she saw a faint pattern.
Between the sandy hair and bare skin, a bluish rose petal was visible.
“Have you seen any squirrels or cats lately? They’re strange. I can’t see any.”
“Huh? Hmm... Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen any birds lately. I think the birds have gone far away to survive the winter.”
“What’s going on? It’s been a while since I’ve seen a rabbit. It’s not like the animal hibernates.”
Michael loved and adored the animals in the manor estate very much. Angie also liked animals very much, so she would sometimes receive small pieces of food from him and would join in feeding them whenever she saw them.
“That’s right. Could something be wrong?”
“I’ll have to ask the gardener later. I’m worried because I don’t see the ones I usually see.”
Angie nodded, then hesitated for a moment, wondering if she could ask him about the pattern she had seen on the nape of his neck earlier.
But there was no time for that. Madam Yasmine, the chief steward who had just discovered them, called for help, and without even a moment to chat, the two headed to the main building where the workers were gathered.
Despite the bitter cold, the downtown area of the Citadel was more lively than ever. A large Salvation Army charity pot hung in the square a week before Christmas, and Christmas decorations were not uncommon on the streets. The aftermath of the horrific Continental War was nowhere to be seen in Vintergar.
But not everyone was so happy and excited. Martin Silva had a heavy expression on his face even though he had left work early for the first time in a while. The weather was as gloomy as his mind, and it was raining. He put on a raincoat over his thick plain coat and ran across the park.
His modest apartment was just across from Ruben Park. Martin ran through the thick trees and into the old building. He glanced out the window of the staircase between the first and second floors at the houses across the street. It was a wealthy neighborhood called Rue Rubenville, after the park.
The neatly lined mansions were visible through the tree branches and raindrops. Even under the cloudy sky, the pure white bricks were dazzlingly bright. At that moment, the second-floor window of one of the mansions opened wide. A woman in a dressing gown with her brown hair elegantly tied up raised a hand toward him. It was a signal that he could come over.
Martin took off his black coat under his raincoat and put it on the other way. The double-faced coat had instantly turned a shabby, dull gray. He threw the raincoat in the house and pulled down his new hat. Then he went out through the side door of the building and headed toward the mansion. He didn’t forget to look around to see if anyone was watching him.
Bryn Meyer Armitage greeted Martin with one of her disabled legs supported on a cane. Despite the newly built exterior, the interior of the mansion was filled with colonial-style décor.
“Martin.”
“Bryn, how are you?”
The two greeted each other with a light kiss on the cheek and lips. In the living room, where the curtains were tightly drawn, someone had arrived a step ahead of them.
The real owner of the mansion, Willem van Armitage, founder of the Armitage Steel Company and a member of the Senate, sat in the middle of the salon smoking his pipe. He was the most successful businessman among the burghers of Wintergard and Bryn's father. But today he was in the mansion for a brief visit from an official business trip to have a secret meeting with his daughter's fiancé.
“Congressman. It has been a very classy experience.”
“You’re here. Sit down.”
The gentleman in his mid-40s responded to the greeting by holding up his pipe. His blunt yet affectionate attitude clearly revealed the intimacy between the two. The two of them briefly exchanged news and quickly came to a conclusion.
“Yes. I want one merchant ship ready by the end of February.”
“Yes. Any sailing ship suitable for camouflage will do. It was a long time ago, but I remember it wasn’t that far. It just has to be sturdy enough to last a week.”
“It’s not a big deal to prepare a ship like that. But are you sure it’s okay? If something happens to you...”
Armitage glanced at Bryn. Next February would be exactly eight years since Martin escaped from the island. According to him, it was also the time when the moon cycle cleared the fog that had surrounded the island like a solid barrier, opening up a navigational route.
“Don’t worry. This time, the point is to figure out exactly where the island is and look around the beach. As long as you don’t go inside the island, there’s no danger.”
“But how are we going to find that girl if we don’t go to the island?”
Bryn interrupted, her beautiful brown eyes still filled with anxiety.
“There’s a girl named Angie.”
“I’m going to think about how to do that from now on.”
Couldn't it be that he could convey it through dreams like before? If he had told her to go to the beach at a certain time during the last week of February, she would have. But she hadn't appeared in his dreams at all recently. It could be because Kyle Blackwell was nearby. It didn't bode well for her safety.
“Martin. That dream part is still hard to believe... but I guess I have to believe it. There’s some basis to everything you’ve said so far.”
Armitage frowned, stroking his beard. Five years ago, when Martin, then a rookie in the Wintergar police force, had rescued fifteen-year-old Bryn from danger and claimed that she had been kidnapped as a sacrifice on Cullinan Island and that there was a great mastermind behind it, not a simple kidnapping, he had thought he was crazy.
"Listen. Our daughter got lost in a resort and was caught by some criminals at that time. The Blackwells are a collateral branch of the Trieste royal family and the most powerful family on the entire continent. We have no ill feelings against them, and even though I am the richest person in Vintergar, I cannot compare to that family. It seems like you are possessed by some strange delusion, so stop talking about it. Since you saved my daughter, I will give you whatever reward you want."
"I was kidnapped and taken to that island like that! Of course, I was a real war orphan who ran away from the orphanage and was living on the streets, but even now, countless children have been kidnapped like that all over the continent. That's their method. They take orphans who have gone missing and have no one to look for them to the island and sacrifice them."
At that time, Martin Silva's eyes were so serious. He didn't look like a crazy person at all.
The pure white satin dress with the ivory ribbon was dazzlingly beautiful. And it was familiar. The marigold lace around the neck was none other than her own fabric. It had been made with great care and brought to the Duke's residence by Mrs. Dunst, who had commissioned it from her parents a few months ago. She had never dreamed that it would be returned to her like this.
Angie stroked the sleeve of her dress, feeling its soft texture, and then turned her attention to the letter. She put the letter deep in her pocket and went out. The sunlight was so warm that she wanted to sit on the steps of the back door of the mansion and savor it during her break.
It was such a short letter that the expression “savoring it” itself seemed vain. But every time Angie reread it and pondered it, her heart trembled.
"Angie. The treatment is almost over. I think it's a success. I'll see you in two weeks. Angie, I love you. I miss you so much, I'm going crazy. I can't believe I haven't seen you in almost a year. I'll see you soon. Just wait a little longer."
The letter was read over and over again. Angie read it again and again as if there was another meaning hidden between the lines. It didn’t feel real. She also couldn’t believe that she hadn’t seen him in almost a year, or almost 11 months to be exact.
I can't believe I'm going to see Kai again soon... This isn't a dream, is it? It doesn't feel real.
Angie folded the letter again and put it deep in her skirt pocket. Then she put a hand on her chest as if trying to control her heart which was swelling with happiness. At that moment, the handwriting that Martin Silva had written in her dream flashed through her mind.
"Angie. You have to wake up. You have to get off that...that island!"
It had been a long time since Angie had seen him, as she hadn't dreamed in a long time. Was he really an illusion? It was too vivid to be a dream, but seeing him not appearing for so long made her think...
“Angie! What are you doing here?”
Angie turned her head back to reality at the familiar voice. At that moment, sunlight streamed into the back steps of the mansion, casting a backlight on the man’s face. Angie involuntarily took a breath as his flaxen hair sparkled and covered half of his face.
For a brief moment, Michael looked very much like someone. He resembled the deceased Lord Edward and the young master. Although the hair color and eyes were different, there was something about his facial features that reminded him of them.
“I was wondering where you went, but you were resting here? Aren’t you cold?”
“Uh... Yeah. Just going to get some fresh air.”
Angie lowered her hand, which had been placed on her forehead to block the sunlight. At that moment, something fell from Michael’s hand. It was the chestnuts he always kept in his pocket to give to squirrels whenever he saw them. When he bent down to pick them up, Angie got up from the steps and crouched on the ground to help him. And then, as she absentmindedly glanced at the nape of his neck, she saw a faint pattern.
Between the sandy hair and bare skin, a bluish rose petal was visible.
Had I seen it wrong?
Before Angie could even blink, Michael jerked up again.
“Have you seen any squirrels or cats lately? They’re strange. I can’t see any.”
“Huh? Hmm... Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen any birds lately. I think the birds have gone far away to survive the winter.”
“What’s going on? It’s been a while since I’ve seen a rabbit. It’s not like the animal hibernates.”
Michael loved and adored the animals in the manor estate very much. Angie also liked animals very much, so she would sometimes receive small pieces of food from him and would join in feeding them whenever she saw them.
“That’s right. Could something be wrong?”
“I’ll have to ask the gardener later. I’m worried because I don’t see the ones I usually see.”
Angie nodded, then hesitated for a moment, wondering if she could ask him about the pattern she had seen on the nape of his neck earlier.
But there was no time for that. Madam Yasmine, the chief steward who had just discovered them, called for help, and without even a moment to chat, the two headed to the main building where the workers were gathered.
***
Despite the bitter cold, the downtown area of the Citadel was more lively than ever. A large Salvation Army charity pot hung in the square a week before Christmas, and Christmas decorations were not uncommon on the streets. The aftermath of the horrific Continental War was nowhere to be seen in Vintergar.
But not everyone was so happy and excited. Martin Silva had a heavy expression on his face even though he had left work early for the first time in a while. The weather was as gloomy as his mind, and it was raining. He put on a raincoat over his thick plain coat and ran across the park.
His modest apartment was just across from Ruben Park. Martin ran through the thick trees and into the old building. He glanced out the window of the staircase between the first and second floors at the houses across the street. It was a wealthy neighborhood called Rue Rubenville, after the park.
The neatly lined mansions were visible through the tree branches and raindrops. Even under the cloudy sky, the pure white bricks were dazzlingly bright. At that moment, the second-floor window of one of the mansions opened wide. A woman in a dressing gown with her brown hair elegantly tied up raised a hand toward him. It was a signal that he could come over.
Martin took off his black coat under his raincoat and put it on the other way. The double-faced coat had instantly turned a shabby, dull gray. He threw the raincoat in the house and pulled down his new hat. Then he went out through the side door of the building and headed toward the mansion. He didn’t forget to look around to see if anyone was watching him.
Bryn Meyer Armitage greeted Martin with one of her disabled legs supported on a cane. Despite the newly built exterior, the interior of the mansion was filled with colonial-style décor.
“Martin.”
“Bryn, how are you?”
The two greeted each other with a light kiss on the cheek and lips. In the living room, where the curtains were tightly drawn, someone had arrived a step ahead of them.
The real owner of the mansion, Willem van Armitage, founder of the Armitage Steel Company and a member of the Senate, sat in the middle of the salon smoking his pipe. He was the most successful businessman among the burghers of Wintergard and Bryn's father. But today he was in the mansion for a brief visit from an official business trip to have a secret meeting with his daughter's fiancé.
“Congressman. It has been a very classy experience.”
“You’re here. Sit down.”
The gentleman in his mid-40s responded to the greeting by holding up his pipe. His blunt yet affectionate attitude clearly revealed the intimacy between the two. The two of them briefly exchanged news and quickly came to a conclusion.
“Yes. I want one merchant ship ready by the end of February.”
“Yes. Any sailing ship suitable for camouflage will do. It was a long time ago, but I remember it wasn’t that far. It just has to be sturdy enough to last a week.”
“It’s not a big deal to prepare a ship like that. But are you sure it’s okay? If something happens to you...”
Armitage glanced at Bryn. Next February would be exactly eight years since Martin escaped from the island. According to him, it was also the time when the moon cycle cleared the fog that had surrounded the island like a solid barrier, opening up a navigational route.
“Don’t worry. This time, the point is to figure out exactly where the island is and look around the beach. As long as you don’t go inside the island, there’s no danger.”
“But how are we going to find that girl if we don’t go to the island?”
Bryn interrupted, her beautiful brown eyes still filled with anxiety.
“There’s a girl named Angie.”
“I’m going to think about how to do that from now on.”
Couldn't it be that he could convey it through dreams like before? If he had told her to go to the beach at a certain time during the last week of February, she would have. But she hadn't appeared in his dreams at all recently. It could be because Kyle Blackwell was nearby. It didn't bode well for her safety.
“Martin. That dream part is still hard to believe... but I guess I have to believe it. There’s some basis to everything you’ve said so far.”
Armitage frowned, stroking his beard. Five years ago, when Martin, then a rookie in the Wintergar police force, had rescued fifteen-year-old Bryn from danger and claimed that she had been kidnapped as a sacrifice on Cullinan Island and that there was a great mastermind behind it, not a simple kidnapping, he had thought he was crazy.
"Listen. Our daughter got lost in a resort and was caught by some criminals at that time. The Blackwells are a collateral branch of the Trieste royal family and the most powerful family on the entire continent. We have no ill feelings against them, and even though I am the richest person in Vintergar, I cannot compare to that family. It seems like you are possessed by some strange delusion, so stop talking about it. Since you saved my daughter, I will give you whatever reward you want."
"I was kidnapped and taken to that island like that! Of course, I was a real war orphan who ran away from the orphanage and was living on the streets, but even now, countless children have been kidnapped like that all over the continent. That's their method. They take orphans who have gone missing and have no one to look for them to the island and sacrifice them."
At that time, Martin Silva's eyes were so serious. He didn't look like a crazy person at all.
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