Just as Vialle Ruscheff was starting to grow weary of her unintended confinement, the gossip about her also began to quiet down.

Invitations to tea parties were piling up beside her, more than enough to attest to their abundance.

Even a few prestigious families that normally scorned her own had sent personal invitations, clearly revealing their cunning intentions.

Gazing at the obvious trap, Vialle faintly curled her lips as she carefully sifted through the letters, picking up one that caught her eye.

‘Montelio Literary Society Evening Recital.’

Vialle was confident that this gathering was one of the few created with pure intentions. It was a place free from the usual nobility power plays and disdain for other houses.

Only those genuinely passionate about literature were part of the Montelio Literary Society.

Born from the Count Montelio family, known for their long tradition of nurturing literary talents, this society was founded not for power alliances but for the love of literature.

Naturally, there were nobles who sought to use the literary meeting for socializing purposes, but the Montelio family, to prevent this, set entrance tests based on deep literary understanding.

As a result, those scheming nobles frequently failed and eventually gave up.

Before her regression, Vialle, a book lover, had started attending these meetings lightly but soon found them more meaningful than other trivial social gatherings.

The chance to engage in fervent discussions about literature with a select few was intriguing, especially as it allowed her to gauge her own literary appreciation.

Unlike other gatherings, she could comfortably express her thoughts and opinions here.

Setting down the invitation, Vialle resolved to definitely attend this literary meeting.

It had been two years since she joined the Montelio Literary Society, and being an informal member, she felt at ease about visiting.

‘And Sion, you were there too.’

Reflecting on her past life, she remembered Dension, a member of the society. He was the last to join, yet surprisingly, he was the most passionate and actively participated in the discussions.

“It wasn’t necessary to go that far. Foolishly so.”

The day was no different than usual, with a gentle breeze under a high, crystal-clear autumn sky.

A select group of noble youths gathered at the Count Montelio’s residence, warmly inquiring about each other’s well-being.

“Lady Ruscheff, it’s been a while since we last met.”

“I’m looking forward to hearing which poem you’ll share today.”

To their genuine questions, borne of pure love for literature, Vialle responded eagerly.

“I’ve brought a poetry collection that I particularly like.”

She shyly presented an old poetry book she had been carrying and smiled gently.

Just a few days ago, she had stumbled upon this worn volume in the mansion, which, according to Manolin, was a favorite of the late Duchess.

Remarkably, the book contained notes exchanged between the Duke and Duchess, filled with deep affection for each other.

Vialle had decided to keep the book safe and later present it to her father.

The poem she planned to read that day was “To Make You Love Me Again.”

It seemed the Duke and Duchess had a particular fondness for this poem, as the page bore more signs of handling than others.

‘They must have read it more often.’

Reading this moving poem, Vialle felt as if she had inadvertently glimpsed into their romantic history.
Imagining the Duke’s embarrassment upon receiving the poetry book, Vialle Ruscheff decided she must present it nonchalantly as if it were just another book.

It was, after all, a gift that would surely be most needed and comforting for her father, who still loved and missed her mother.

Having resolved her thoughts, Vialle looked around, inquiring about the whereabouts of the host of the literary meeting.

“It seems Countess Montelio is running late today.”

She had not yet greeted the hostess of the recital, so she set out to find her first.

“Yes, she usually arrives early…”

Just as Vialle started to worry if something had happened, Countess Montelio appeared in the garden.

“Everyone, I’m sorry for being late. Have you been waiting long?”

The members politely shook their heads in reassurance, easing the evident embarrassment on the Countess’s face.

“Actually, I have someone new to introduce to you all today.”

Realizing her intentions, the attendees began to gather, murmuring in anticipation.

“Could it be what we are thinking?”

“It must be, considering the time that has passed.”

Amidst the growing interest in the Countess’s announcement, someone raised their hand and asked.

“Is it true that after two years, we finally have some good news?”

Vialle Ruscheff had been the last member to join the Montelio Literary Society until now.

Her love for books led her to apply for the membership test at the Count’s mansion, albeit belatedly.

The entrance exam questions were notoriously difficult and complex, and even Vialle worried about failing.