Friedrich carefully placed the box on the table, right next to the blooming orchid. Then he gently took Ema's hand in his. He pressed his lips to the back of her hand—they were hot, alive, in sharp contrast to the cold, dead light emanating from the ring.

  "It would be my immense honor, Ema, if you would become my wife," he said quietly, weighing every word with the gravity of a statesman. "I will see you at dinner. And... thank you for hearing me out."

  He looked at her one last time with that strange mix of predatory admiration and patient expectation. Then, with a perfect, old-world bow, he turned and left the greenhouse amidst the rustling of leaves.

  Ema was left standing alone among poisonous plants and rare flowers. Friedrich's words and the image of that ring swirled in her head. He seemed nice, spoke like a savior, and his plan made perfect sense.

  Maybe this is the only right way, she thought. Maybe my heart will truly open if I give him a chance. After all, he is offering me a life instead of oblivion.

  Ema stood alone in the silence of the greenhouse. She picked up the small box and examined the ring closely. The stone inside wasn't just blue; it looked like a piece of fossilized time, as if someone had trapped a second of a snowstorm inside the gem. It was cold, chilling her fingertips, yet she was tempted to put it on. It acted like an anchor that could definitively bind her to this safe, fragrant world.

  She snapped the box shut and walked out into the fresh air.

  Just a few steps from the greenhouse entrance, she stopped. By a stone wall stood a woman. She was beautiful, but her beauty was sharp and cold like a shard of a mirror. She looked at Ema with an expression that wasn't just hostile—it held a mixture of deep resentment and unspeakable sadness. As if she saw someone in Ema whom she had buried long ago.

  "Miss Ema?" a calm voice sounded behind her.

  Ema flinched and turned around. Heinrich stood there. "Heinrich... do you know that woman?" she pointed toward the wall. But her gaze slid into emptiness. The wall was lonely; there was no trace of the woman. "That one over there... she was..." Ema paused and shook her head. "Nothing. I probably just imagined it. The air in the greenhouse is too heavy."

  Heinrich merely bowed his head respectfully. "Come, Miss Ema. Lady Hanna wished for me to show you the rest of our grounds before you get ready for dinner."

  They walked through gardens that felt like paradise on earth. Heinrich took her past the family nursery, where Architect children played with "living water"—creating bubbles that didn't burst and catching sunbeams in them. Everything here worked with clockwork precision. Heinrich patiently explained how the Family helped surrounding towns, how Architects stabilized the climate to prevent floods. Ema was beginning to feel that she had truly found herself among the guardians of the world.

  In the evening, the hall was bathed in warm candlelight. Ema arrived in a light evening dress and found only Friedrich sitting at the long table. He looked rested, his jacket unbuttoned, giving him an air of casual elegance.

  "Where is Lady Hanna?" Ema asked as she sat down. "She had to urgently leave to handle a certain matter at the borders," Friedrich smiled and poured her wine. "She will return in a few days. I hope you don't mind my company. I will try to fully replace her."

  After a short silence, he looked at her with expectation in his eyes. "Have you considered my offer?" "It is a very warm gesture, Friedrich," Ema replied cautiously. "I will let you know very soon. I just... need a little more time for this new world to settle in my head." Friedrich smiled again, wider this time. "I look forward to your answer. Very much so."

  Stolen story; please report.

  An Unexpectedly Honest Date

  The rest of the dinner carried a spirit that reminded Ema of a classic date. Friedrich was a master of conversation and knew how to ask questions in a way that made Ema feel like the most important person in the room.

  About the zest for life: They discussed food. Friedrich laughed when Ema admitted she loved plain pizza with extra cheese. He told her about exclusive recipes that Architects "enhanced" using temperature changes during cooking, but he acknowledged that there is power in simplicity.

  About adventure: When it came to her past, Ema mentioned skateboarding. Friedrich put down his cutlery and raised an eyebrow in amusement.

  "Skateboarding? That is fascinating. The kinetic energy, balancing on the edge... It's actually a small architecture of movement in practice," he laughed. "That's great. at least I know you can teach our children that one day. A bit of that 'street' ferocity would do them good in this sterile world."

  About dreams: His directness about children scared Ema a little—she felt a knot form in her stomach—but Friedrich moved on smoothly. He asked her what music she liked to listen to, whether she preferred watching mountains or the sea. He seemed genuinely interested in every little detail of her personality.

  The conversation flowed smoothly. They talked about travel, about what it feels like to experience freedom when one doesn't worry about tomorrow. Friedrich told her about places that looked like they were from other planets, which Architects protected from the eyes of tourists.

  In that moment, Friedrich was incredibly likable. He was funny, attentive, and his gallantry didn't feel forced. Ema told herself that it wouldn't be so hard to grow fond of him. Maybe even love him. He offered her a home, children, studies, and a life in luxury.

  When he said goodbye to her at the door of her room and kissed her hand again, Ema felt her doubts melting away.

  Ema stood by the tall window of her room, watching the evening mist roll over the castle gardens. Her thoughts were as unclear as that haze. Should she accept Friedrich's offer? Should she become part of this world that offered her safety but could also become a gilded cage?

  Suddenly, her gaze snagged on the trunk of an old oak tree at the edge of the park. A figure stood there. The same woman she had seen in the afternoon. She was looking directly at her, motionless as a statue. Ema didn't hesitate. She ran from the room, her bare feet slapping against the marble corridors, rushed down the stairs, and burst onto the white gravel of the garden.

  However, when she reached the oak, there was only emptiness beneath the trees. Just damp grass and silence. "Miss Ema?" a sharp voice called out. A pair of guards in black uniforms immediately rushed to her. "What is happening? Are you alright?"

  "I... thought I saw someone. Behind that tree," Ema exhaled. The guards exchanged lightning-fast, professional glances. One of them immediately put a hand to his earpiece. "Possible breach in sector B-4. Guest spotted an unknown person. Initiate a search, now!" Ema watched the garden spring into action. Their reaction was so serious it frightened her. "I probably just imagined it," she gasped, but the guards were already respectfully yet uncompromisingly escorting her back to the safety of the castle.

  Back in her room, a surprise awaited her. On the nightstand stood a bottle of wine—a rare 1947 vintage Hanna had mentioned as a treasure. Next to it lay a simple note: "To my dear Ema. Friedrich."

  The gesture warmed her heart. She poured herself a glass and let the liquid slide down her throat. The wine tasted of ripe sour cherries, dark chocolate, and old wood. With every sip, she felt calm spreading through her veins. The slight anxiety that had accompanied her all day began to melt under the influence of alcohol. She felt cared for. Important. Maybe Friedrich truly was her destiny.

  The night, however, brought a different kind of unrest. Sleep did not liberate her but returned her to where she feared to even think.

  She stood once again on that gray, glowing beach. Before her, a heavy, milky-white sea undulated lazily, making no sound, only glowing with a cold light. Above her head, a sky black as ink crushed down, without a single star. And all around, as far as the eye could see, those black, petrified thorny bushes jutted from the sand.

  Something forced her to turn around.

  She saw Viktor. But not the warrior in the black coat. He was naked. His body hovered a meter above the ground, in an unnatural, taut arc, back to the earth and belly to the black sky. An invisible force—the same one that had stolen people into the sky back in her city—was constantly, relentlessly pulling him upward by the center of his body. His muscles were defined in spasmodic tension, tendons on his neck bulging as his physical shell resisted gravity turned inside out.

  He was not alone, however.