A Touch of Shadow: The Duke's Obsession

By the time Erian returned to Firefly Pavilion, the night had grown deep and still.

The courtyard lay wrapped in silence.

The lamp in Caelith’s room had long since been extinguished.

He walked beneath the old locust tree and lowered himself onto the familiar stone beneath its spreading branches.

Leaning against the rough trunk, he lifted his eyes toward the moon.

For more than twenty years, he had never once thought about the future.

When he had followed Osvald, survival itself had been the only goal. Staying alive until tomorrow was what the future meant.

After his master’s death, he had come to seek refuge with Caelith.

At that time, he had believed his future would be simple: he would remain by her side. Protect her. Watch over her.

And when the day came that she no longer needed him, he would quietly leave.

But now... He no longer wanted to leave.

His thoughts drifted back to that fevered night. The way she had wrapped her arms around his arm and pressed her cheek against him.

The way she had murmured that he felt cool.

The way her fingers had touched his face, traced his brows, brushed his lips.

The way she had smiled and whispered that his lips were soft.

He knew she had mistaken him for someone else. He had known it from the beginning.

Yet even so, his heart had pounded so fiercely that he had thought it might break through his chest.

Never in his life had he experienced anything like that.

Afterward, when she had fallen asleep, he had remained crouched beside her bed for a very long time.

Watching her. Watching the way she curled beneath the blankets like a small, peaceful creature seeking warmth.

At that moment, he had thought that if he could spend the rest of his life simply looking at her, it would be enough.

But it could never be enough.

Her heart already belonged to someone.

That man was Rhaegar. Commander of the Imperial Guard. A man who had fought, bled, and earned glory upon countless battlefields. A man capable of giving her a secure and peaceful future.

And what did Erian possess?

Nothing. Not even a name that truly belonged to him.

Slowly, he lowered his head.

Caelith’s face appeared once more within his thoughts.

Her smile. The quiet concentration she wore while embroidering. The way moonlight had gathered upon her features when she spoke to him beneath the night sky.

He wanted to keep looking at her.

Forever.

For the longest time, he had believed that was enough.

But Marina’s words had planted something dangerous within him.

She had not spoken merely of watching. She had spoken of approaching. Of obtaining. Of reaching out and claiming what one desired.

He did not know whether he should trust her. Yet the fire she had awakened within him was already burning. And he could no longer extinguish it.

Rising to his feet, he crossed the courtyard and stopped outside Caelith’s room.

The windows were dark. The room was silent.

Still, he stood there. Looking... For a very long time.

At last, he turned away and returned to the old pear tree.

He sat down once more and continued staring at the moon overhead.

The night wind swept through the courtyard, carrying the chill of autumn.

Yet no matter how cold the wind became, it could not extinguish the fire inside him.

Inside the room, Caelith turned over beneath her blankets.

She had not fallen asleep.

When she heard movement in the rear courtyard, she immediately knew Erian had returned.

She did not know where he had gone. Nor did she know when he had left. But she knew one thing with painful certainty––things could not continue this way.

Perhaps... It was truly the time to let him go.

The thought settled heavily within her heart. And once it appeared, it refused to leave.

***

The following afternoon, an unwelcome visitor arrived at Firefly Pavilion.

Caelith was seated inside, embroidering beneath the afternoon light, when loud voices suddenly erupted from the front of the shop.

The commotion grew louder by the second.

Frowning, she set down her embroidery frame and walked outside.

A richly dressed woman stood before the counter. In her hand, she clutched an embroidered handkerchief.

Her voice was so shrill and forceful that it seemed capable of lifting the roof from the building.

"What kind of goods are you selling here?" she shouted. "The colors faded after a single washing, and you still dare call this premium embroidery?"

Behind the counter, Yvaine’s face had already turned pale. Caught completely off guard, she stood there helplessly.

"M–Madam, please calm down. Let us discuss this properly..."

"Calm down?" the woman snapped. "I spent several coins of silver on this trash! Is this how Firefly Pavilion conducts business?"

With a loud smack, she threw the handkerchief onto the counter.

Her voice rose even higher, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. Within moments, curious passersby had begun gathering outside the shop.

The atmosphere grew tense.

And in the midst of the swelling crowd, Caelith stepped forward and picked up the handkerchief from the counter.

She examined it carefully.

There was no mistake––the embroidery pattern belonged to Firefly Pavilion. She had designed the floral motif herself, and the stitching techniques had been taught under her own supervision.

Yet the colors had faded beyond recognition. Crimson threads had washed into pale pink, while rich blue had dulled into a lifeless gray.

The problem was obvious... The dye had failed.

A sinking feeling settled in her chest. This particular batch of fabric had been purchased only days ago by Yvaine.

Lifting her gaze, she looked calmly at the agitated woman.

"Madam, this handkerchief was indeed sold by Firefly Pavilion. Please allow yourself a moment to calm down. Let us sit and discuss the matter properly."

"Discuss?" the woman snapped. "What is there to discuss? I want my money back!"

Several curious onlookers stood behind her, peering into the shop with undisguised interest. The commotion was already drawing attention from passersby along the street.

Caelith glanced toward Yvaine. "Go bring the silver."

Yvaine hesitated briefly before hurrying away.

Turning back to the customer, Caelith spoke with steady composure.

"Madam, we will refund the full purchase price of the handkerchief. In addition, we will compensate you with twice the amount as an apology for the inconvenience."

The woman had clearly not expected such a direct response. For a moment, she seemed caught off guard.

Soon enough, however, she lifted her chin stubbornly.

"Twice? I want triple! I bought this as a gift, and your defective goods caused me to lose face. The recipient probably thinks I intentionally gave her something inferior."

Caelith met her gaze evenly. "Double compensation."

Her voice remained polite, but there was steel beneath it. "If that is not satisfactory, then you may take the matter before the magistrate."

The woman’s momentum faltered.

A few moments later, Yvaine returned carrying the silver. Caelith counted the coins personally before placing them upon the counter.

The woman grabbed the money, muttered several final complaints, and stormed away.

Gradually, the gathering crowd dispersed.

Silence returned to the shop. Caelith lowered her eyes to the ruined handkerchief in her hands.

She studied it for a long time...