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The inside of the carriage was quiet. Rockwell was staring blankly at the scenery passing by the window. He hadn't come out expecting anything in particular. It was just the road he always took.

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But then, a small yacht caught his eye by the river. His gaze, which had been passing over it mindlessly, came to a dead stop.

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The person standing on the yacht was Guest. Hair was fluttering in the wind, and sunlight was pouring down over them.

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It was strangely similar to that moment five years ago when the parasol was lifted. Then and now, his heart reacted first.

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His gaze slowly shifted to the side. Royden was beside Guest. He was talking about something with a relaxed smile, and Guest laughed brightly at his words.

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Rockwell already knew that such a laugh had never once been directed at him.

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The carriage did not stop. It did not even slow down. It simply passed by at the same speed as usual.

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There was no change in Rockwell's expression. His fingertips stiffened very briefly on his lap before relaxing again, but other than that, no trace of agitation was revealed externally.

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The yacht grew distant. The scenery outside the window flowed away with it. Rockwell looked straight ahead once more.

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