On the table were appetizing dishes: smoked salmon salad, tomahawk steak, and Pinot Noir wine being served one after another.

“We only need two wine glasses,” Viare said.

Following her instruction, the waiter who had finished serving took away one of the wine glasses, and Rosalyn tilted her head in curiosity, asking,

“Aren’t you going to have any, Lady?”

“No, it’s not for me, but for your fiancé.”

Upon understanding this, Rosalyn casually lifted her water glass, glancing at her fiancé, and remarked,

“Ah, I didn’t know the Count doesn’t drink.”

Gaizen frowned and replied, somewhat offended by her playful challenge,

“Who says I can’t drink…”

“I thought you didn’t like it because you just hold your wine glass at banquets.”

Rosalyn, as if holding a trump card, slightly raised the corners of her mouth. Gaizen shot a look of protest at his sister and then reluctantly admitted,

“Heh— I do drink.”

“So, will you drink instead of me?”

As Rosalyn playfully encouraged him to have wine, Gaizen started to grumble.

“You seem to have quite a mischievous side, young lady.”

In response, she laughed lightly and countered,

“I’ve learned a lot over the past year.”

Even without saying exactly what, the three of them at the table clearly understood.

“…….”

“Let’s just eat, shall we? The food will get cold,” Viare interjected, and they stopped their playful bickering to focus on their meal.

After the main course, a waiter who had been watching them approached with dessert.

“Your dessert is carrot cake.”

Rosalyn’s smile slightly faded upon seeing the cake plate the waiter brought. Gaizen, noticing the change in her expression, alternated his gaze between her and the carrot cake and asked,

“Can’t you eat carrots?”

“……It’s not that I can’t eat them, I just don’t.”

“Isn’t that the same thing? You’re not a child…….”

As Gaizen teasingly nagged her, Rosalyn started to give him a cold look.

Seeing this, Viare, who had been observing them with a gentle smile, firmly stepped on her brother’s foot and quietly warned him,

“Gaizen, don’t tease your fiancée.”

Surprised by her sudden action, Gaizen looked at his sister in disbelief and then voiced his complaint with a hint of grievance,

“Sister, why are you only hard on me?”

Ignoring him, Viare turned to Rosalyn and said,

“Please understand, my brother is still a bit immature.”

Feeling embarrassed as if she was apologizing for her son’s mischief, Viare was relieved when Rosalyn responded with a bright smile,

“Of course. I understand completely.”

Gaizen, amazed by his fiancée’s response, could only shake his head in disbelief.

Afterwards, Gaizen and Rosalyn continued their playful squabbles, and Viare quietly stepped aside.

‘I’ve set the stage; now they can spend time together.’

After paying the bill downstairs, Viare received a farewell from the staff and left the restaurant.

Past lunchtime, Lanvin’s Street of Arts had a tranquil atmosphere, with the warm and gentle spring breeze and sunlight.

Tickled by the occasional dandelion seeds and pollen, Viare entered a nearby shop.
When Viare glanced at the glass display case from outside, she thought it was an ordinary store, no different from others. However, once inside, she realized it was an antique shop selling rare items.

The shopkeeper, appearing quite elderly, greeted her with a kind smile and encouraged her to look around comfortably.

‘I didn’t come in for this.’

Feeling slightly awkward, Viare nodded with a polite smile and slowly browsed the shop’s interior, intending to buy something interesting or appealing and then leave.

From wooden dolls to vintage clocks and various other items, the shop displayed an assortment of goods.

‘It seems the owner likes these kinds of things.’

Since they were a bit different from her taste, Viare casually picked up an item and was about to head to the counter when something caught her eye.

‘Why is this… here?’

In her azure eyes, an all-too-familiar object gleamed distinctly.

Putting down the item she was holding, Viare picked up the object, staring at it in disbelief. It was a faded silver pocket watch with a cover. Inside, one side held the clock, while the other featured a familiar painting.

“This is…”

It was the pocket watch she had received as a gift from Dension before her regression. A thing she no longer possessed, something that wasn’t hers anymore.

‘It really was the watch you gave me.’

Regretting how she could have forgotten it, Viare was filled with nostalgia for the past.

The antique shop owner approached her, smiling warmly, and pointed to the watch, saying,

“You have a good eye, miss.”

He then shared the story of the pocket watch.

“It was custom-made by a craftsman for a nobleman.”