On October 31, 1910, at Drevolre Manor,

Do I appear anxious? Considering the trembling of my hands and the dust on them, the answer is yes. I am not one to easily adapt to new situations, and with the presence of so many strangers from different regions, I feel quite small. But as the eldest daughter of the clan, I cannot stand idly by and do nothing. I take a deep breath, put on my white gloves and light pink fur hat, I smile and head towards a group of gentlemen who are engrossed in discussion.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Fortunately, my father is already conversing with these tall men. I touch my father's shoulder lightly and he lends me a hand. All eyes turn to me, which makes me feel slightly uncomfortable. I curtsey before them as my father introduces me. It's strange how they all look alike, from their manners to their styles, sophisticated yet unremarkable. Only one, who looks the youngest among them, leaves the most impression on me. Not because he is more charming than the others, but because his moustaches make me want to laugh. It takes a lot of courage to go out and socialise with such an appearance. But I do not express any attitude because I am a reputable lady. I only observe, but do not speak. I only judge, but do not show it.

If I had to pay attention to any of the men, which is a hypothetical scenario, I would choose my father. Don't misunderstand me, I mean he is the ideal man. My father gently holds my hand, as if protecting me from the strong smell of cigarette smoke emanating from those men. Oh, their old eyes eagerly waiting to seize the rose in the early morning gives me chills! My father turns to me as if throwing a life raft to the right person. He speaks softly:

"Fiona, why don't you take Mr. Mortens around to visit the booths?"

"My pleasure, Father!"

As a young and well-educated lady, I kneel and answer, then I glance over to two young gentlemen. As it turns out, they are the sons of Mr Lionel Morten, the owner of the prestigious London bank. The taller one, with a disdainful and untrustworthy face, is his eldest son, Augustin Morten. The other one, the young man with a moustache that almost made me faint, is Augustin's younger brother, Andermis Morten. In literature, men with such moustaches are usually portrayed as deceitful or insincere, but for some reason, I would trust the younger brother more. Don't ask me why, perhaps it is because of my poor taste in men?

Andermis seems less talkative than his older brother, which means I will have to say a lot to exchange words with Augustin. I walk alongside him as if we will never walk on the same path. I wear a green dress and my curly hair is styled high; Augustin is dressed in a cream-coloured tuxedo, and his haughty face gives him the appearance of a charming officer. On the other hand, Andermis looks like a recluse, with deep poetry that delves into the heart of humanity, a scholar who lives in seclusion deep in the woods with dreamy rivers, dressed in a brown suit. I would rather talk to Andermis if he weren't so quiet.

"So, this is your first time in our countryside?" I begin to chat as we walk.

"Yes, if it weren't for our father having some business here, we wouldn't have had the opportunity to visit this place," Augustin responds to me with a smile. I won't lie, he has a very handsome smile.

"Well, Mr Morten, tell me what you think of our countryside?" I stop at the Sullivan's stall. This year, he brings purple roses.

"Please call me Augustin, my fair lady," Augustin touches a blooming purple rose in front of him, and inexplicably a petal falls. Mr. Sullivan notices and presents the rose to him. Augustin smells it and smiles gently. He hands it to me, and I receive it without knowing what else to do. As we continue to walk, he expresses, "For the first time in twenty-eight years, I feel peace. I never thought a countryside like this still exists."

"You don’t mean that..." I respond with a light chuckle.

"Why do you think so?" he stops in front of Gilbert's shop, and that stops me as well. All three of us pause to admire the butterfly-shaped orchids that look fascinating. "Do you think I'm not telling the truth because I'm a city man?"

Mr. Gilbert gifts me an orchid to take with me. As I admire this lifelike bloom, my soul feels purified. I walk away gently, looking up at Augustin walking beside me, and I reply softly, "No, sir." I shake my head gently. "I just want to say that this peace may not be all that you will experience here."

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"You're truly a..."

"Complicated woman?" I shrug, pushing the conversation with him.

"Sophisticated. That's what I think," he responds.

I smile and stop. I lead him to my shop, where my siblings are standing. I approach my mother and kiss her on both cheeks as a greeting. I introduce everyone with great enthusiasm, which makes Enzo, who is there, uncomfortable. But God knows that smile is only a pretence. Even if Augustin were a terrible and rude man, I would still sit and drink tea with him if necessary. Oh Enzo! Please forgive me, but you know it is something I have to do!

Enzo's solemn gaze as he looks at me weighs heavily on my heart. I wish he understood the burden of responsibility I bear. The Lord taught me to be dutiful to my family, and I have obeyed without question. But I also love Enzo, and that leaves me torn. Don't ask me whom I would choose, for I am not strong enough to leave either side. I feign meeting another gentleman who needs to be welcomed, so my mother and siblings can talk to the Morten brothers. I need a moment of solitude now. This crowd is truly maddening!

I stand under the awning, silently observing everyone enjoying the fair while my heart feels heavy. I need some peace before I can return to my place. Sometimes, all of this feels like a noose around my neck, binding me to duty and isolating me from my own desires. It would be easier if I were not tied to Enzo. I love him, and I don't regret it. I just wish I could be as carefree as Thena, then I would not have to struggle like this.

I am so focused on my despair that I do not notice Augustin's younger brother approaching me. Only when he speaks do I startle out of my reverie.

"Do you mind if I stand here with you?" Andermis asks.

"No..." I reply softly. I am actually quite bothered, but I will not say anything.

"Things are quite hectic, aren't they?" Andermis smirks wryly. "Hectic to the point of madness. I wish my father didn't make me come along."

At first, I am surprised by his frankness. He does not bother to hide his discontent with the bustle here. Like a refreshing breeze, he makes me laugh. Don't misunderstand, I am only laughing out of surprise, not because of any other emotions.

"Aren't you afraid I'll judge you?" I joke.

"You'll judge me? Come on, I know you don't enjoy any of this either. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me."

I am taken aback by Andermis' confident demeanour, a man I have noticed from the outset. I could not say anything in the first few minutes because I felt like a fish caught in a net. I thought I was too familiar and adept at pretending, yet now I am easily caught. Is it really true that a gaze can expose emotions? Or is it because I was too distracted in the conversation, or Andermis was too clever to notice. On this point, I lean towards the latter.

"Have I surprised you?" Andermis bursts out laughing. His moustaches make this story even more humorous.

I unconsciously remove my gloves. My impression of him has gradually improved, no longer as ridiculous as before. On the contrary, I find this man quite intriguing. I lightly chuckle and exclaim:

"You do have more than just those moustaches."

"Don't you like them?"

Andermis' face seems a little panicked when I comment on his moustache. It seems that he is very proud of them. I am not the type of woman who plays coy, but sometimes I can joke around. My fingertip touches the tail of one of his moustaches. I laugh contemptuously like a child seeing a strange object. I purse my lips and say:

"I wouldn't be surprised if you still haven't found a lady!"

Finishing my sentence, I burst into laughter and put on my gloves. Andermis is still standing there touching his moustache with a dejected look on his face. I walk away but turn my head back after a few steps. I smile, actually those arches are not that bad, but Andermis' desperate demeanour will haunt me and make me burst into laughter in the middle of the night.

I walk back to him, deftly adjust his tie. I take a deep breath, place a hand on his chest. I smile and say:

"It's not that bad upon closer inspection."

"I know you're just comforting me!" Andermis shakes his head.

"Let's go back to society, Mr. Morten," I roll my eyes. "We've been gone for too long!"