Caelith turned to look at him.

Erian’s expression remained calm, almost unnervingly so.

"That woman wasn’t targeting your sister," he said quietly. "She was targeting you."

Caelith said nothing. Deep down, she had already reached the same conclusion.

The answer had been forming in her mind ever since she left the cloth shop.

That evening, she went to Yvaine’s new home.

The moment Yvaine opened the door and saw her standing outside, her eyes immediately reddened.

"Sister..."

Caelith stepped inside and took a seat in the courtyard.

Yvaine stood before her like a child awaiting punishment after making a terrible mistake.

For a long moment, Caelith simply looked at her.

"The fabric incident wasn’t your fault."

Yvaine froze.

"But..."

"Someone deliberately placed that fabric in front of you," Caelith said softly. "They calculated that you would be tempted by the lower price. They knew you would buy it. They were waiting for you to make a mistake."

The color drained from Yvaine’s face.

"Who?"

Caelith did not answer. Instead, she rose and gently patted Yvaine’s hand.

"In the future, don’t make purchasing decisions alone. If anything comes up, discuss it with me first."

Yvaine nodded quickly. Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Sister... I’m sorry..."

Caelith looked at her with a quiet smile.

"Just be more careful next time."

With that, she left.

Yvaine remained standing at the doorway, watching her retreating figure until she disappeared from sight.

Then she cried for a very long time, washing away both guilt and relief.

***

The following day, several more customers arrived demanding refunds. One by one, Caelith returned their money and apologized personally.

Throughout the process, her expression never changed. Yet she knew with certainty that someone was operating behind the scenes.

Someone was pushing events forward. Someone had not yet finished.

Over the past few days, Erian had become even quieter than usual.

He rarely spoke, yet every time he watched Caelith rushing about the shop, dealing with complaints and soothing customers, something stirred behind his eyes.

As evening approached, he suddenly spoke.

"I’ll investigate."

Caelith looked up. "Investigate what?"

Erian did not answer. Instead, he turned and walked away.

Caelith watched his departing figure, her feelings far more complicated than she wished to admit.

Erian returned to the cloth shop, and the moment the proprietor saw him, his legs nearly gave out beneath him.

Erian did not threaten him; he did not shout. Yet the merchant’s resolve collapsed almost instantly.

"I swear I don’t know who that young woman really was," the man blurted out nervously. "She came twice. The first time was to discuss the price. The second time was to deliver the goods. She wore blue robes. Fine fabric too. Definitely not something a common servant could afford."

Erian looked at him, his eyes narrowed.

"What else?"

The merchant frowned as he searched his memory. Then his eyes brightened.

"There was one thing."

Erian waited.

"A mole." The merchant pointed to his own wrist. "On her left wrist. Very small, but I noticed it."

For the first time, something flickered in Erian’s eyes.

Slowly, they narrowed again.

Then he turned and left.

He did not return to Firefly Pavilion. Instead, he headed directly for the teahouse.

Marina was already there. She sat beside the window, leisurely sipping tea while watching the evening crowds pass through the streets below.

When she saw him enter, a smile immediately appeared on her lips.

"Mr. Erian," she said pleasantly. "Have you finally made up your mind?"

Erian crossed the room and sat opposite her. His gaze never left her face.

"It was you."

Marina widened her eyes. "What was me?"

Erian recounted everything.

The defective fabric. The merchant’s confession. The mysterious servant girl. The mole on the left wrist.

When he finished, Marina could only laugh. The sound was light and musical.

"Mr. Erian," She set down her teacup. "Do you have any actual proof?"

Erian remained silent.

Marina leaned forward slightly. Her smile widened.

"Even if I did do it, what exactly can you do about it?"

Her eyes glittered with confidence.

"Will you run to tell Caelith?"

She tilted her head.

"Or perhaps you’ll go tell Rhaegar?"

The smile on her face remained sweet and flawless. Yet beneath that sweetness lay something sharp. Something poisonous.

For the first time, Erian understood clearly––the woman sitting across from him was far more dangerous than she appeared.

And the worst part was that she knew it too.

"Mr. Erian," Marina said softly, "you should think carefully about who is helping you right now."

Erian silently studied her face.

Her eyes curved into gentle crescents, her smile appearing perfectly harmless. Yet the fire burning inside him only intensified.

Slowly, he rose to his feet.

"Don’t touch her."

Marina blinked. "What?"

Erian’s voice never wavered.

"If you hurt her, I won’t let it slide."

With that, he turned and walked away.

Marina remained seated at the table, watching his retreating figure.

Little by little, the smile faded from her face... Until nothing remained.

***

By the time Erian returned to Firefly Pavilion, night had already settled over the city.

The lanterns hanging beneath the eaves cast pools of warm golden light across the quiet courtyard.

Inside her room, Caelith sat embroidering beneath a lamp.

When she heard the courtyard gate open, she instinctively lifted her head.

Erian stood outside, yet he did not come in.

After a moment, Caelith set aside her embroidery frame and stepped outside.

"Did you find anything?"

Erian shook his head. "No."

Caelith studied him carefully. For some reason, he lowered his eyes.

"Don’t overwork yourself."

The words came quietly. Before she could respond, he turned away and headed toward the rear courtyard.

Caelith watched him go.

There were many things she wanted to ask; many things she wanted to say. Yet in the end, none of them left her lips.

She looked toward the old pear tree swaying gently in the evening breeze. The wind carried the first hints of autumn chill. Drawing her robe more tightly around herself, she finally returned to her room.

***

Erian had changed.

At first, Caelith had not noticed. For days, he had always remained in the background.

He guarded the rear courtyard and rarely approached unless summoned.

If she never left her room, he could spend an entire day without speaking a single word to her.

Now things were different. Everywhere she went, he followed.

When she worked in the shop, he stood outside the entrance. When she went into the city, he walked several paces behind her.

When she sat in the courtyard enjoying the afternoon sun, he crouched nearby beneath the shade of the old tree.

At first, she assumed nothing had changed. She thought he was simply protecting her as he always had.

Eventually, however, she realized something was wrong.