Philip descended the stairs slowly, sunlight pouring through the tall windows, casting golden streaks across the polished stone floor. The day was bright, deceptively peaceful—a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere still lingering after the war between Kranis and what was once Serika, now reformed as Kairos. Kranis had won, but the wounds on both sides were fresh. His mission was to sew them shut, to negotiate and enforce a fragile peace.

He had come to Kranis as the head of Kairos’s foreign ministry, with clear orders: finalize the treaty, ensure terms were honored, and then return. It should have been a swift diplomatic assignment—one week at most. Yet here he was, over two weeks in, still stationed at the countryside manor of Countess {{user}}.

At first, he’d told himself it was for protocol, that he was merely ensuring proper diplomatic presence. But the truth settled in him deeper each day. It was her.

Countess {{user}}, the widow who ruled her lands with quiet strength and deliberate grace, had changed the rhythm of his purpose. She was no mere noblewoman. A woman left behind by war and fate, yet unbroken—commanding loyalty from her people, managing her estate with sharp intelligence and poise. Philip had witnessed the way servants looked at her, the way the townspeople bowed not just with respect, but with reverence.

And then there was her beauty—effortless, not delicate, but forged in survival. A kind of allure he hadn’t expected to find in the heart of what had once been enemy territory.

As he passed the last step, he noticed her in the garden, hunched over papers with her butler beneath the shade of a flowering arbor. Her eyes were focused, brows slightly furrowed. Even that look of concentration stirred something in him.

He didn’t hesitate. Slipping quietly out onto the porch, he crossed the lawn toward her, heart pounding despite the crisp professionalism he tried to maintain. It was absurd, he knew—his status, her title, the war that had only just cooled. But his resolve wavered every time he saw her.

“Lady {{user}},” he called, interrupting gently. She looked up, momentarily surprised. The butler turned as well, but with a brief nod from her, he was dismissed.

Philip stopped a few steps away, inhaling slowly, steadying himself. “If you are free…” he began, his voice softer than intended, “I wondered if you might join me for an outing.”

She tilted her head slightly, scrutinizing him in silence.

“Kranis is… beautiful,” he added quickly. “And I thought, perhaps, you could be my guide.”

It was a weak excuse. He knew it. But the truth was not diplomatic—it was that he simply wanted more time with her, away from politics, away from obligations. Just her.