Left alone with the dragon, Juliet gazed for a long moment at the crowd where the two men had vanished. Then, slowly, she turned and walked toward the lake.
The baby poked his head out of the basket, surveying the cheerful festival-goers with bright, curious eyes. Occasionally, he let out a soft squeak to capture her attention.
"Kyun...!"
Though night had fallen, the festive atmosphere showed no signs of dimming—it seemed destined to last until dawn.
Juliet made her way toward the lake, seeking refuge from the noise and bustle of the crowded streets.
However, an unexpected obstacle soon materialized in her path—one she hadn't considered at all.
"Oh!"
The moment she stepped onto the hill leading into the forest, her foot sank into a patch of mud. Her delicate shoes were instantly ruined.
"Damn it."
She mentally berated herself for her foolishness. Wearing pretty shoes for a woodland walk had not been her wisest decision.
Juliet glanced back uncertainly at the road she'd traveled. Her first instinct was to return and change into something more practical, but Anne's house lay at a considerable distance. She wasn't certain she could make it to the lake before midnight if she turned back now.
She deliberated for a moment, weighing her options.
Then she pressed forward.
Beyond the hill stretched a dense forest carpeted with short grass. When she emerged on the other side, she found it—the lake that only she knew about.
Reaching the shore, Juliet removed her hopelessly ruined shoes and cast them aside. A fleeting thought crossed her mind—*how will I get back?*—but she dismissed it almost immediately.
*It doesn't matter.*
"Let's just do what we want."
Juliet settled at the water's edge and carefully lowered her bare feet into the lake.
She had come here last year, too.
*I remember it was raining then.*
She lifted her gaze to the sky. A vast full moon hung suspended above the glassy surface, its silvery glow bathing the dark forest in ethereal light.
*In the end, you never came.*
But she had already known Lennox wouldn't appear.
Around this same time last year, Juliet had been in Alghera. She hadn't come to enjoy the festivities.
Lennox had been consumed with purchasing a new mine in the region. And though Juliet had followed him east, she'd had nothing to occupy her time. She had simply waited in the mansion, counting the days until he concluded his business so they could return north.
The deal had proven difficult. The Duke's mood had grown so dark and preoccupied that he'd forgotten her birthday entirely. In all her years as his mistress, such a thing had never happened before.
She had understood. She hadn't complained. Yet there remained something she'd desperately wanted—just one small thing she'd hoped to receive from him as a gift.
That morning, Juliet had spoken to the Duke of Carlisle with careful hesitation.
*"I'd like to see the full moon tonight."*
*"Continue."*
*"Your Grace... would you like to join me in enjoying the moonlit view by the lake?"*
She had heard whispers of a beautiful lake hidden near the forest, where the scenery was said to be magnificent. She told him she wished to see the full moon rise from its shores.
It seemed a modest request—more than enough for a birthday present. But she had never asked him for anything before, never wanting to cause him trouble. She hadn't known what answer to expect.
*"Alright. Let's go together."*
When he consented, joy had flooded through her so completely that she'd spent the entire day in a state of breathless anticipation—from early morning until late evening, her heart racing with excitement.
But that night, Juliet waited by the lake until midnight.
He never came.
When Lennox appeared at dawn the following day, she didn't ask why he'd broken his promise. She already knew.
*He either forgot about me entirely, or he simply didn't care enough to remember.*
The answer was one of those options. There was no point dwelling on such a foolish story.
"Happy birthday, Juliet," she whispered into the silence.
These were the words she had longed to hear—words that had never been spoken.
"Kyun?"
The little dragon squeaked softly. He had been staring in fascination at the dark surface of the lake, which lay as smooth and still as polished glass.
Juliet reached out wordlessly and stroked his small head.
*That was how my twenty-fifth birthday passed.*
She sighed and began washing the mud from her feet.
Winter in the East was as mild as early spring, but the nights still carried a distinct chill. If she lingered much longer, she would freeze.
It was time to go back.
That was when she heard it.
*Hm?*
In the distance—the thunder of hoofbeats, growing louder with each passing second.
Juliet turned her head instinctively toward the sound. Through the darkness, she watched a rider on horseback race toward her at breakneck speed before stopping in a cloud of dust not far from the shore.
"Roy? You came back after all?"
A slight smile touched her lips as she observed the tall silhouette dismount and stride toward her without the slightest hesitation.
"You said you would return, but I didn't think—"
The words died in her throat.
The moment the moonlight fully illuminated the man's face, Juliet lost the power of speech.
"I found you... Juliet."
This was a man who was an entire year late.
---
## — A Year Too Late —
*You're a whole year late, Your Grace.*
The thought formed silently, trapped behind lips that refused to move.
For one disorienting moment, Juliet wondered if she had simply gone mad—if perhaps there was no one standing before her at all.
But the man approached with the same confident stride she knew so well, and with a familiar gesture, he took her hand in his.
She felt the warmth of his palm against her skin. She heard the horse's labored breathing, hot and ragged from a desperate ride.
This was real.
Yet while Juliet stood frozen, her breath caught in her chest from the shock, his grip tightened around her fingers—as though he feared she might bolt.
"Y-Your Grace...?"
She couldn't think of what to say. She hadn't expected to see him here. Not now. Not ever.
His face was clearly visible in the moonlight. But his expression—for reasons she couldn't fathom—didn't carry the cold indifference she had grown so accustomed to seeing.
Something stirred beneath the surface. Juliet sensed it instinctively.
*Lennox seems... agitated. Almost... nervous.*
*No. That can't be right.*
They stood in silence, gazing at each other while the rest of the world seemed to hold its breath.
The lake stretched behind her, transparent as crystal, treacherous as a mirror. The full moon hung overhead, bathing the dense forest in soft, silvery-white light. One could have found countless words to describe the magnificent landscape surrounding them—but none of it mattered now.
The only thing that mattered was the man standing before her.
A man who should not have been here at all.
A man who had always seemed the most distant person in the world.
A light breeze drifted from somewhere, carrying the delicate scent of night-blooming flowers. It played through his black hair, pushing loose strands across his forehead.
The pressure of the moment became unbearable. Juliet forced herself to speak—anything to shatter this suffocating atmosphere.
"...Good evening, Duke of Carlisle. I hope you are well?"
The instant the words left her mouth, she watched his expression darken.
*Wrong choice.*
What was she supposed to do?
Honestly, she'd blurted it out hoping to appear less pathetic. It was the same defensive habit she'd never managed to break.
She couldn't even remember exactly how much time had passed since she'd last seen him. Of course, she had imagined their reunion countless times—but never like this. Never here.
While Juliet struggled to organize her chaotic thoughts, she noticed his gaze drift downward.
To her stomach.
*Oh, God.*
Only then did she realize the depth of her predicament.
She remembered what she had told him just before she fled.
"Juliet Montague."
His voice cut through the stillness—low, measured, dangerous.
Then the man who seemed capable of killing with nothing more than a look asked a question that stopped her heart.
"Do you love me?"
---
## — What He Could Not Say —
*"Good evening, Duke of Carlisle."*
He couldn't bring himself to return the greeting.
*"I hope you are well?"*
No. He was far from well.
Her face glowed with flushed cheeks and bright eyes—she looked like an ordinary village girl dressed for a festival.
Juliet, wearing a vibrant dress and smiling at him with gentle warmth, seemed less like a real person and more like a maiden who had stepped from the pages of a fairy tale.
Seeing her before him like this, it suddenly felt as though the past weeks—the desperate searching, the sleepless nights, the hollow ache of longing—had been nothing more than a terrible nightmare.
He couldn't resist reaching out to touch her, to confirm she wasn't another illusion.
*The town of Alghera. The lapis lazuli mine. The celebration of the rising full moon.*
Fragments of memory surfaced unbidden, bringing with them a tide of recollection.
He remembered now.
A year ago, they were supposed to have been here. On this very night.
*"I'd like to see the full moon tonight."*
Those had been the words of a quiet woman who, to an almost absurd degree, rarely asked for anything. At the time, he had wondered why she would make such an unusual request.
What could possibly be special about a landscape they could just as easily view from their own mansion?
*"Your Grace... would you like to join me in enjoying the moonlit view by the lake?"*
*"Alright. Let's go together."*
The moment he'd given his consent, she had laughed with pure, unguarded joy. It was one of those rare occasions when she'd allowed him to hear such a sound.
*"Thank you!"*
She had been so delighted by the simple promise of accompanying her to the lake that he'd found himself puzzled. *What thoughts run through this woman's head, that something so trivial could spark such happiness?*
But that same day, he had broken his promise.
He had buried himself in work until dawn, having reconsidered and concluded that his ambitious plans held far greater importance than time wasted on a walk to some lake.
*Drip-drip.*
*Hmm.*
Moreover, glancing out the window, he had noted the heavy rain and dark clouds obscuring the sky. It seemed impossible to see anything, let alone venture out and get soaked trying to glimpse the moon.
A walk to the lake was out of the question in such weather.
So he had dismissed it entirely.
Only the following day—when he had nearly forgotten the matter—did he learn the truth.
*"To admire the moon view"* meant attending the Moon Festival, held in the East on the first night of the full moon, marking the beginning of the New Year.
And with that realization came another.
Juliet's birthday had already passed.
*"What is this?"*
Immediately afterward, he had hastily concluded his business deal and presented Juliet with the deed to a lapis lazuli mine. At the time, such a gift was worth several times more than what he typically gave his mistresses. He had assumed it would be sufficient compensation for his delay.
*"I don't feel very well."*
Her voice had been barely audible, thick with unshed tears.
His mistress had lain in bed with a pale face, blankets pulled nearly over her head.
*"..."*
She had paid no attention to the documents, which sat untouched on her desk for days afterward—even though he had informed her that all she needed to do was sign them.
Only later did he learn that after that night, she had fallen ill with a raging fever. She hadn't woken until five days later, when it finally broke.
*Why is this memory surfacing now?*
"..."
"Well."
Looking at her now, he couldn't tell whether her discomfort stemmed from having her hand held—or simply from being near him.
Lennox watched as Juliet avoided his gaze, her eyes darting awkwardly away.
Throughout the weeks he had spent searching for her, he had rehearsed this moment hundreds of times in his mind. What he would do. What he would say.
It had seemed so simple.
Find Juliet. Confirm she was safe. Convince her to return.
The first two objectives were now accomplished. Only one remained.
He didn't care who the child's father was, if she was truly pregnant. He was prepared to do whatever she asked—including raising her child as his own.
But the moment his eyes met hers, understanding crashed over him like a wave.
"Juliet Montague."
Lennox Carlisle—the ruthless man who always obtained what he wanted—realized that this time, things were different.
"Do you love me?"
In the end, the words that escaped his lips sounded incredibly, impossibly childish.