Tristan returned to the boutique by retracing the same path he had used before. Upon arrival, he made his way to the ladder and ascended it to reach the apartment. Before entering, he cautiously inspected the room from the outside, then slipped through the window, his movements deliberate and quiet. His foot landed softly on the floor. Removing his black oxfords, he tiptoed toward the couch and sank into it with a deep sigh of relief.
Just as he began to relax, Mr. Kenway emerged from his room, startling Tristan and nearly causing him to leap from the couch.
"Where did you go?" Kenway asked, his voice laced with concern.
Tristan wanted to lie—he considered it—but he couldn't bring himself to deceive the man who had done so much for him. He remained silent, unable to speak.
Kenway approached and sat beside him.
"You must let me know when you leave. I understand you're capable of taking care of yourself, but I worry when you disappear without a word," Kenway said, his tone heavy with genuine anxiety.
A wave of guilt crashed over Tristan. The man who had opened his home, his heart, and his life was now plagued with worry. Yet, Tristan still could not bring himself to speak.
'I still struggle to trust people… I'm sorry, Mr. Kenway,' he thought.
Kenway, disheartened by the young man's continued silence, stood and quietly returned to his room. Tristan watched him walk away. Even after Kenway closed the door behind him, Tristan continued staring, haunted by the pain he saw in his guardian's eyes.
He laid back on the couch, drowning in guilt, but still refused to say a single word.
'Killington, can we speak?' he called out internally.
"Of course, my Lord. What troubles you?" Killington responded calmly.
'What should I do?' Tristan asked.
"My Lord, I cannot command your actions, but I can offer guidance. For now, it would be wise not to involve those you care about in your path of vengeance," Killington advised, his voice solemn and composed.
Tristan exhaled deeply, then turned onto his side and closed his eyes.
'Thank you, Killington.'
"It is always my pleasure, my Lord."
Morning came swiftly, but Tristan refused to yield to the call of the sun. Though the morning light spilled through the window, warming his face, he remained motionless. Then, the light was blocked by a looming figure.
"Damn, brother. You sleep forever," said the figure.
Tristan's expression darkened. That voice—it was unmistakable.
"Tell me it isn't him," Tristan muttered aloud.
He slowly opened his eyes. Golden hair and a chiseled physique—familiar features confirmed his dread.
"Garfield," he growled, irritation in his voice. "Maybe I'm just seeing things… Yeah, that has to be it."
Tristan rubbed his eyes furiously, hoping it was a hallucination. But when he looked again, Garfield was still there, casting a shadow over him.
Tristan abruptly leapt off the couch and took several steps back.
"How are you here?" he asked, bewilderment etched across his face.
Garfield flopped onto the couch with ease before answering.
"I heard from a few citizens that you were staying with Mr. Kenway. So, I thought I'd stop by," he said casually, looking up at the stunned Tristan.
"Mr. Kenway let you in?" Tristan asked, turning toward the stairs.
"Yeah, I told him I was a friend."
"I don't have friends," Tristan snapped coldly.
Garfield went silent, staring at the ceiling. After a moment, a sly grin spread across his face.
"You say that, but you seem pretty friendly with Ruben Green. And if I recall, there's something between you and Amelia Green, too."
Tristan considered his connections. Darren was his mentor, Kenway his guardian. Ruben—merely Amelia's brother. And Amelia? More business partner than confidante.
"It's… complicated," Tristan muttered.
Before either could continue, Kenway called from downstairs.
"Tristan! Miss Amelia is here to visit!"
'That's not helping my argument,' Tristan thought, clearly agitated.
Garfield chuckled at the irony, eyeing Tristan's expression.
"So much for not having friends," he teased.
"Shut up. Just go downstairs and wait for me—and tell them I'll be down soon," Tristan commanded.
Garfield saluted mockingly, like a soldier obeying a superior. He descended the stairs and came face-to-face with Amelia.
"I don't believe we've met. I'm Garfield Frutia," he said, bowing with formal elegance—right hand over his chest, left hand at his side.
"A pleasure. I believe you're the one who participated in the exam… and won," Amelia replied.
Garfield raised his head, slightly surprised.
"I'm honored you remember me."
"You made quite the impression—especially with that speech. It was... unforgettable," Amelia said.
Garfield blinked, momentarily stunned by her words.
"Did I say something wrong?" Amelia asked, her face portraying no emotion.
"No, but the way you speak of my speech… it's as if you were there."
Amelia was stunned. She turned her gaze to the side, deliberately avoiding eye contact—not with Garfield or Mr. Kenway, but with the person standing beside her.
"My lady… did you attend the exam, despite not being allowed to?" her maid asked in a voice that was low and menacing.
"No," Amelia replied, softly and evasively.
Like a viper striking, the maid seized her cheek in a harsh pinch, causing Amelia to wince in pain.
"I hope you'll think twice next time, my lady," the maid warned coldly.
"Yes… I'll never break the rules again," Amelia said, her voice strained by the sting.
Garfield and Kenway stood frozen, wide-eyed at the sudden scene. The usually composed Amelia now resembled a scolded child. Neither dared laugh, fearing immediate execution for mocking nobility.
"At least someone knows how to keep you in line," Tristan remarked as he descended the stairs, casually adjusting his cufflinks.
Kenway and Garfield turned pale. Tristan's tongue was dangerously loose—even around nobility.
As he reached the bottom, he noted their horrified expressions.
"What's with the faces?" he asked.
The two men sighed in unison but said nothing. They merely nodded.
"It's nothing," Garfield replied.
Tristan turned to Amelia, who stood patiently by the doorway.
"So, what brings you to our humble abode?"
Amelia straightened, regaining her composure.
"I want you to accompany me… to a café."
"Huh?" Tristan responded, completely caught off guard.