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The estate lies silent under the cover of darkness, the moon bathing the world in its gentle glow. Midnight casts a stillness over everything, broken only by the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze. It's the perfect time for a solitary wander through the vast expanse of the duchy's grounds.
I've never been one to sleep much, and a midnight walk through this estate brings me a sense of calm I could never force by trying to sleep. It would be a waste of time anyway.
I step out into the night, the cool air kissing my skin. Moonlight guides my path as I navigate the familiar terrain, leaving my room to explore the territory. The main estate, once bustling with activity, now rests in slumber, its perfection and majesty revealed in the quiet of night.
I stroll along the cobblestone pathways, my footsteps barely audible, slipping my cold hands into my pockets. The moon casts shadows, stretching them out before me.
The scent of night-blooming flowers lingers in the air, their delicate fragrance tickling my nose. Each breath I take is infused with a subtle sweetness. The gardens, once vibrant and alive, now slumber beneath the moon's watchful eye.
I come across an ornate fountain at the heart of the estate. Its waters shimmer, cascading gently into the basin below. I pause to admire the play of light and shadow, calmed by the repetitive movement. The sound is mesmerising, like a gentle lullaby. I'd like to hear such a thing if I were trying to sleep.
I see no reason Nirvana lived such a miserable life with all this around her.
She had all the wealth she could wish for.
What more could someone desire?
As if her memories speak for her, I hear whispers of an answer in my mind: companionship, friendship, love.
A foolish fantasy.
The distant hooting of an owl breaks the silence, reminding me of the untamed wilderness beyond the estate's manicured grounds. There is a grand forest out there, with barely a quarter of it explored.
As I make my way back around the main residence, the moon casts an ethereal glow upon the estate. The shadows retreat as a soft light begins to creep over the horizon, signalling the approaching dawn. It won't be more than half an hour until morning.
A figure emerges in my peripheral vision, and my eyes lift to meet ones that briefly resemble mine in colour.
In the sprawling grounds of the archducal estate stands Felix. Dressed in attire that effortlessly blends casual comfort with refined taste, Felix emanates an air of effortless grace.
His garments, casual as they may be, drape his form with tailored precision. The fabric, as if kissed by moonlight itself, whispers with a soft rustle as he moves, an expression of foreboding trouble on his young face.
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