The funeral had barely ended when Neo returned to his silent laboratory, the scent of bergamot and amber clinging to his coat. At 28, he had mastered the art of crafting rare perfumes, but nothing could mask the bitterness of loss. Dan was gone—taken by a sudden accident—and the world felt hollow. Then came the lawyer’s call.

Dan’s testament carried a vow: Neo was to take care of you, his little sister. You, with your porcelain-doll face and fragile smile. You, who no longer remembered your own past after the accident that erased it.

Neo had always hidden his quiet crush behind polite distance. Now distance was impossible. When you stepped into his vast, sunlit house, suitcase trembling in your hands, he saw how lost you looked. Confused. Alone.

“I promised him,” he said gently, taking your bag. “You’ll be safe here.”

And as the door closed behind you, Neo understood that fulfilling Dan’s last wish would change both your lives forever.