She searched everything even more thoroughly than before, but found only a few strange scribbles in the drawers and on the table - nothing useful.
Just in case, Tilia collected her scribbles and this time headed to his locker. There she collected all the materials that could provide at least some clue, even the slightest evidence, and returned to her place.
Tilia, who had previously ignored the trivial receipts and a few cryptic notes with the royal coat of arms of Ontario, now went through them carefully.
In truth, since she received the offer, she had been looking at the transfer application form every night, thinking about it.
Could she really leave? Should we take advantage of this opportunity that presented itself so perfectly, like fate?
She wanted to rush in without thinking, but something like anxiety held her back. An ominous premonition stopped her hand, telling her that she needed to think a little more.
But the moment she discovered the box - no, the moment she found the letters inside, written in her own hand, the impulse that seized her was stronger than anxiety.
She will return to Akansis.
Not just to meet the one she missed, not just to talk about the feelings she could never express.
To reveal the one who dared to hide in the shadows and tried to block her path.
She will return to her homeland.
Tilia laughed coldly when she noticed the unexpected name on the document that Norbert Karel apparently left behind.
A strange fluttering pierced her chest.
It was a new nervous excitement - as if the calm life she had just found could soon be destroyed, and she herself would again find herself in a whirlpool of events.
***
Among the many houses that belonged to the Duke of Davenport, only one could rival the grandeur of the main estate. The Duke's only real home: the Essentine mansion.
Until late at night, the light was still on in the office on the top floor of this mansion.
Among the deep shadows, a soft glow filtering through the dark green curtains shone like moonlight behind a curtain of clouds.
- Miss Tilia Ambrose has applied for a transfer.
Kevin, standing with imperturbable calm in the Duke's office - an office that all high society only talked about, but which no one saw, presented his report.
- She also notified her landlord and has already bought a train ticket to Acansis.
- What class did she buy?
- Third class.
Ilex, sitting at a large table and lazily reading documents, frowned slightly on his brow.
“I will inform the agent we have stationed in Ontario that first class tickets to the transfer location will only be provided to those who have made a formal request.”
Kevin quickly responded by speaking first.
“In addition, we will offer temporary housing as part of employee benefits to help them adjust to their new workplace.”
- As for housing, everything is fine here.
Ilex cut him off softly.
- There is no need to even book a hotel.
Hearing these words, Kevin fell silent. Ilex's gaze became sharper in this strange pause.
- Sorry. I'll fix it.
Reading the sensitivity in his boss’s gaze, Kevin bowed again and continued his report.
After the long discussion ended and the assistant left, Ilex slowly stood up and walked to the window.
Pulling back the dark green curtains, he saw a dimly lit garden and an empty road beyond.
Still leaning on the table, Ilex calmly trimmed the tip of his cigar and lit it. Smoke swirled around him like fog, and his sharp gray-blue eyes, sharpened like blades, softened slightly.
But even when he took a deep drag, the impulse did not subside. In the end, Ilex threw away his barely smoked cigar in irritation and headed to Tilia's room.
The room that would soon find its rightful occupant was not set up next to Ilex's bedroom, as originally planned. Instead, she took over the Duke's personal space.
Ilex slowly looked around what was once his bedroom and was now a guest room.
He had already checked this place several times. And yet, like a servant afraid of being reprimanded for missing a detail, he looked around the room again.
There were only a few decorations in the bedroom - nothing too big or fussy. The wallpaper patterns were simple but regularly repeated, creating a sense of beauty.
The curtains were soft translucent chiffon. The bed linen is made of very soft material…
Finally, Ilex adjusted his pillow and stepped back with a relaxed expression on his face.
That's enough. At this stage this will be enough to make everything look decent.
Smoothing out the wrinkles that had formed during the inspection of the bed linen, Ilex imagined her lying there and peacefully falling into sleep.
Fantasy, which had become practically a part of his daily life, continued to grow to incredible proportions. In the end, she made him lick his lips and pull the bedside bell cord.
- Did you call, sir?
Standing at the open window for ventilation, Ilex gave an order to a nervous maid who had come running in response to a call from her strict owner.
- Place two pillows on the bed.
***
Three years of living in Ontario fit into a few moving boxes.
So meager. Tilia looked around the room, which had been empty for just a day, and then counted the money she had withdrawn from the bank.
However, she saved more than she expected. This should have been enough to find a room of the same size in Akansis.
Feeling somewhat relieved, Tilia began to pack the remaining luggage to leave for the train.
She heard that there was official housing at the new post, but did not expect that she would be allowed to live there.
After all, the reason she couldn't live in the new consular housing in Ontario was absurd.
Even though she met the proximity requirement, she was rejected because she was unable to obtain a recommendation from the consulate.
Remembering the past, Tilia smiled wryly.
A similar xenophobic culture may still exist there. Although Acansis was her hometown, unlike Ontario...
“However, we must go without expecting much.”
Tilia gathered her courage and tightly grasped the handle of her worn suitcase.
***
Thanks to the rare generosity of the consulate, which provided her with a first-class train ticket, the trip to Acansis was comfortable.
Tilia, who had once cried like a child while driving past these very landscapes, now watched them with the calm face of an adult.
First, she found a modest hotel and left her luggage there.
- How long do you plan to stay here?
- About... a week.
Since the transfer was almost equivalent in distance to a foreign assignment, the consulate gave her a two-week adaptation period.
“A week should be enough to sort out some things and find a place to live,” Tilia thought, adding for the friendly innkeeper just in case.
- If I stay here longer than a week, I will inform you three days before departure.
- Yes, please! Here's your key. There should be a spare one on the nightstand in the room.
After quickly looking around the room, Tilia washed herself a little and left.
The landscape of her hometown, which she saw three years later, has not changed.
Although new buildings had appeared and unfamiliar shops had opened, at its core the place remained the same place she knew.
First of all, the way people dressed, the language they spoke - everything was familiar.
Tilia, without realizing it, felt more comfortable and sat down on the stagecoach.
She wanted to try and test many things, but one task was more important than anything else.
Memorizing the address of the hospital, which she easily found, Tilia looked out the window with a calm expression on her face.
***
- Bradley Ambrose... He's in Ward A, room 403.
The staff at St. Mary's Hospital, where her father was admitted, were consistently rude.
Tilia calmly walked along the shabby hospital corridor in search of the room of her blood relative.
- …Father.
The place where the man who had lost everything lay was a chamber designed for twenty people.
Having come to visit him empty-handed, Tilia silently looked at her father's haggard face.
His once bright features, which made the hearts of many women tremble, faded under the pallor of the disease, and the thick hair of which he was always proud was more than half gone.
And it wasn't just his hair and vitality. Looking into the green eyes, from which all the will to live seemed to have been sucked out, Tilia said quietly:
- Father, I'm here.
At these words, his gaze, hitherto emptyly directed into space, slowly moved to her.
At that moment, Tilia saw it.
A strange hope arises in the eyes of a patient plunged into despair.
The will to live, which she thought had completely disappeared, began to reappear in his empty gaze.