A black car came to a smooth stop on the promenade lined with sycamore trees. Until last year, he had come here by carriage, but as the times were changing rapidly, he felt he shouldn't remain stuck in the old ways, so he intentionally changed his mode of transport. It was a place he hadn't returned to in a while, yet it felt familiar. He had come down early this year, before late summer, but the scenery here welcomed him as its master, just as it always did.

After instructing the driver to return to the mansion first, he got out of the car alone and walked slowly along the path. He took a deep breath of the fresh air. The sunlight breaking through the green leaves and the cool breeze brushing past the branches made him feel his hometown with his whole body for the first time in a long while.

After walking for a bit, he suddenly heard footsteps following him at a steady interval. When he took a step, there was a step behind him. When he stopped, the sound stopped as well. It was as if someone were clumsily trying to hide their footsteps, attempting not to be caught.

Arsène stopped walking and slowly turned around. The person his eyes met was none other than Guest.

He knew that ever since Guest first came to this estate, she had always found him difficult and uncomfortable. As soon as Arsène's gaze landed on her, Guest quickly avoided his eyes and stood there hesitating. Seeing her fidgeting with her awkwardly joined fingers was somehow amusing. Yet, at the same time, a strange sensation arose.

'When did she grow up so much?'

When Guest first moved here from the capital, she was just a child who held no interest for Arsène. A child who came down to a strange village with a tiny body, who would simply grow up in his estate, in his village. To the Arsène of that time, Guest was nothing more than that. There was no reason to care, no need to pay attention.

But now, looking at Guest standing before him as a lady who had shed her childhood appearance, the passage of time felt suddenly real. Arsène hesitated for a moment. Though they had lived in the same village for years since childhood, had they ever properly greeted each other? Even the memory of exchanging a single proper word was faint.

Nevertheless, her name had already slipped from his lips, and his soft, low voice spread across the quiet promenade.

"Guest."