Sol was lost in thought, standing idly in the garden, his gaze distant as he absently traced the patterns in the cobbled path beneath his feet. The murmurs and laughter drifting from the banquet hall were like distant waves, barely touching his mind. Then suddenly, a sound broke through the haze, a soft, measured cadence of footsteps drawing closer.

He snapped to attention, every muscle tensing instinctively. The steps were light, graceful, and unhurried, as if the person approaching had no need to rush. It was unusual, this pace was not like the hurried bustle of the other guests or the brisk movements of the servants. Sol’s heart began to beat faster, though he couldn’t say why. Without even thinking, he straightened up, fixing his posture and turning his gaze to the doorway. A sense of quiet expectation hung in the air, and then, a girl stepped into view.

The girl entered through the doorway, moving with an elegance that seemed to make the garden itself fall silent in reverence. Her beauty was almost otherworldly, her features delicate yet striking. She had a radiance that somehow blended with the blooming flowers and sparkling fountains around them, as though she were a part of the scenery itself. Sol, who had always maintained a hardened indifference toward people and especially toward the frivolous ideas of attraction felt an unbidden ripple pass through his heart.

He felt his heart skip a beat, a strange and sudden flutter that caught him off guard. It was an emotion he’d never encountered before a pull, a kind of silent awe mixed with an unexplained tension. He didn’t understand it, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. But even as he fought to rein in his emotions, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at her, the way she seemed to glide, each step graceful, deliberate, and elegant.

The girl’s gaze swept over the garden, pausing for the briefest second in Sol’s direction. She barely looked at him a quick, detached glance that skimmed past him as though he were part of the scenery, no more than a shadow among the trees.

Sol lowered his head instinctively, making the small, polite bow expected of servants. But he felt an emptiness in that moment, a strange pang of insignificance. She hadn’t even acknowledged his existence. It was as if he hadn’t been there at all. And as her attention drifted elsewhere.

He straightened slowly. Indifference was nothing new to him he had faced it all his life, and it usually rolled off him like rain. But from her, this casual disregard, like he was beneath even her notice, left a faint ache lingering in his chest. He couldn’t explain why it felt different, why the chill in her brief glance settled so deeply.

Sol stood still, almost frozen in place, as she gently walked past him towards the peach tree planted at the center of the garden. The tree, in full bloom, displayed its delicate pink petals that seemed to catch the moonlight, casting a soft glow around her, Sol’s gaze followed her every step, drawn in by her quiet grace. The gentle rustling of her gown seemed to harmonize with the whispers of the breeze. She stopped just beneath the tree’s boughs, a cascade of peach blossoms framing her, their delicate petals drifting down around her shoulders.

Sol watched from a distance, transfixed, his usual indifference melting as he noticed her expression, serene yet touched by some unspoken question. Her lips parted, and in a soft, wondering voice, she began to slowly speak:

“Love, they say, is pure and bright,

A blossom blooming soft and light,

Like petals falling, free and fair,

From peach trees swaying in the air.

But love, I wonder, is it true?

Or just a dream that drifts from view…”

Her voice faltered, her gaze becoming distant, as if she were searching for words she couldn’t quite find. She looked at the tree’s blossoms with a hint of longing, or perhaps confusion. Sol, captivated by her words and the fragile vulnerability that had surfaced in her, felt the poem reach into a quiet place within him. Without thinking, his own voice rose in a silent whisper, almost as if in answer to her unspoken thoughts. He took a breath, and with a gentle yet gloomy tone, he said, “Love is the peach tree’s fleeting bloom,

A fragile scent that fades too soon,

Its petals scatter, pale and torn,

Leaving only branches worn.

It falls to earth as spring departs,

A quiet ache, in broken hearts.”

The words floated through the air, laden with a bittersweet weight that seemed to echo in the stillness of the garden. Sol’s heart ached as he spoke, each syllable heavy with the truth of his own experiences, a reflection of his longing and despair. As the last note of his voice faded, the garden around them fell into a hushed reverence. The girl turned slightly, her attention caught by the emotion woven into his words. For a fleeting moment, their eyes met, and in that instant, Sol felt a connection, a silent understanding that transcended the words they spoke. Yet, just as quickly, her gaze slipped past Sol, indifferent and unreadable, she looked away, her gaze returning to the peach tree, its blossoms dancing gently in the breeze, brushing a stray petal from her shoulder, her expression settling once more into calm detachment, as though their exchange was already forgotten. Without a second glance in his direction, she turned and walked away, her footsteps soft and composed, leaving Sol standing near the peach tree.

Sol watched her retreating figure, feeling a faint ache stir in his chest. He was used to feeling unseen, accustomed to indifference. But the hollow weight of her passing filled him with a quiet yearning he could not explain. Each step she took away from him seemed to echo in the stillness of the garden, amplifying the sudden void she left behind.

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He now felt stupid. How could he have said something so bold. She clearly was no ordinary person. she must be one of the esteemed guests who had arrived for the banquet. Panic set in as he imagined the consequences of his words. What would he do if she felt offended and went to speak to Garrick? He would be finished. If he were lucky, he might only be flogged. But if the person he had offended turned out to be even more important than he realized, he wouldn’t escape with his life.

A gentle sigh escaped his lips. What had happened had happened. he could not go back in time to change it. The weight of his actions pressed down on him, the anxiety swirling in his chest like a storm. With a silent determination in his heart, he resolved to keep his emotions in check.

He moved his focus back to the garden, the vibrant colors of the flowers around him blending into a blur as he tried to clear his mind. He stood at his post, rigid and vigilant, aware of every rustle of leaves, every distant laugh. He wondered if she would remember his words or if they would vanish like the fallen petals around her, carried away by the breeze.

He clenched his jaw, feeling the tension coil in his muscles. Despite knowing he had crossed a line, part of him could not regret the truth he had spoken. It was a flicker of honesty in a life filled with pretense. He had glimpsed a connection, however fleeting, and the thought sent a tremor through him.

Back inside the banquet hall, a man sat in the place of honor, draped in grand and exquisite attire that shimmered in the flickering candlelight. His sharp features were accentuated by a confident smile, radiating warmth as he joined in the festivities around him. The laughter flowed like music, a symphony of joy and merriment echoing off the ornate walls. Beside him sat a woman, her striking beauty marred by a perpetual scowl that cast a shadow over her face, making her seem distant and unapproachable. Observant eyes would note the undeniable resemblance to the girl in the garden.

As the celebrations swirled around them, the man leaned slightly toward the woman, his brow furrowing in mild concern. “Where is Elara? She seems to have disappeared; I haven’t seen her for quite some time,” he remarked, scanning the room.

The woman’s scowl deepened as she replied, “I saw her head towards the garden earlier, but yes, it has been quite a while now. I’ll send a servant to look for her.” She began to raise her hand to signal for assistance, her concern evident.

Just then, Elara stepped through the grand doorway, her entrance almost ethereal, framed by the golden glow of the banquet hall. The energy shifted, and the chatter momentarily hushed, all eyes drawn to her. The burly man’s face lit up as he exclaimed, “There she is! My daughter!” His voice boomed with a mix of pride and relief.

Elara approached the table with a grace that seemed to command attention, her earlier contemplative mood subtly shifting into something more confident. “Sorry to keep you all waiting,” she said, a playful smile dancing on her lips. “I got lost in the garden again. It’s so peaceful out there.”

“Peaceful? With all the ruckus we’ve got going on in here?” the man chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “What’s so fascinating out there that you would choose it over this splendid banquet?”

“Oh, you know, just the whispers of the trees and the occasional gust of wind,” Elara replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s a nice escape from all this… glamour.” She gestured at the lavish decorations and well-dressed guests, her tone light yet contemplative.

The woman beside her softened slightly, her expression shifting from concern to pride. “We were worried about you, Elara. You know how these events can be,” she said, her voice laced with a mix of exasperation and affection. “You need to at least check in from time to time.”

Elara nodded, her smile faltering for just a moment as a flicker of something deeper crossed her face. “I appreciate that, Mother. I’ll make sure to stay close next time.”

Her gaze momentarily drifted, recalling the moments in the garden the lingering scent of peach blossoms, and the weight of Sol’s whispered words. But just as quickly, she refocused on her parents, shaking off the thoughts that tugged at her heart.

As Elara settled into her seat, Garrick maneuvered through the crowd, his eyes darting around as he made his way to the esteemed guests. He approached Lord Cedric with a respectful bow. “Lord Cedric, I hope everything is to your liking,” he said, his voice steady but laced with the excitement of the bustling celebration.

“Hahahaha!” Cedric’s hearty laughter filled the air, drawing the attention of nearby guests. “Yes, it’s quite pleasant! Wonderful, indeed!” His eyes sparkled with delight, the atmosphere thick with merriment.

Elara, seated gracefully beside her father, chimed in softly, “I, too, am very impressed.” Her words flowed like a gentle breeze, a contrast to the lively laughter surrounding them.

Garrick’s chest swelled with pride at her compliment. “That’s so good to hear, especially coming from Lady Elara! Your praise means a great deal to us,” he replied, beaming.

Elara smiled faintly, her gaze shifting to the garden. “Yes,” she continued, her voice thoughtful. “Especially that peach tree. How did you make it bloom? Spring is still not upon us.” Her brow furrowed slightly, a hint of curiosity dancing in her eyes.

Garrick chuckled, trying to maintain a casual demeanor. “Ah, a little secret of mine. It’s all about the right care and attention. A touch of magic doesn’t hurt either,” he replied, winking as he gestured toward the enchanting tree.

Cedric leaned closer, intrigued. “Magic, you say? Perhaps you should share your secrets with us! I could use a few of my own for the estate.”

Elara chuckled lightly at her father’s jest, her previous scowl momentarily forgotten. “Or perhaps just some gardening tips,” she added with a teasing glint in her eye.

As their laughter mingled with the festivities, Elara’s expression turned curious again. “By the way, I noticed a boy in the garden earlier. He seemed… different. Did he belong to the staff?”

Garrick’s heart sank at her question, the memory of Sol’s quiet presence rushing back to him. Had he offended her somehow, He swallowed hard, trying to mask his anxiety. “Ah, yes, he’s a… a young lad who helps around the restaurant,” he stammered, searching for the right words. “Very diligent, if a bit shy. I hope he didn’t disturb you.”

Elara’s brow furrowed, concern creeping into her tone. “I just felt something about him. He seemed lost, like he was searching for something.” Her eyes sparkled with an emotion Garrick couldn’t quite place.

“Lost?” Cedric echoed, glancing toward the garden. “Perhaps he was simply admiring the peach tree like the rest of us.”

“Yes, perhaps,” Garrick agreed, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that Elara’s interest in Sol was more profound than mere curiosity. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach. What if he had made a grave mistake and had offended Lady Elara?

“Do you think he’s alright?” Elara asked, her voice softening with genuine concern.

“Of course! Just a little young and impressionable, I’m sure,” Garrick replied hastily, offering a reassuring smile. “I’ll keep an eye on him. I wouldn’t want him causing any trouble.”

As Elara nodded, Garrick silently vowed to himself to monitor the boy closely, desperate to avoid any situation that might displease her.