INT. MCQUIDE RESIDENCE – AR'ASIA – 5:00 PM
How... how did I end up here?
She lay still, eyes fixed on the ceiling above—an artificial sky brushed with soft clouds and shifting hues of gold and lavender. A chandelier, shaped like a sun caught in crystal, hung at its center, casting warm, flickering light across the mural. It felt alive somehow, as if the painted heavens were breathing... watching.
The walls, a pristine cream-white, glowed under the afternoon sun. They were almost too clean, too perfect—like pages torn from the kind of storybook she used to clutch to her chest as a child, whispering wishes into the spine, hoping a bit of magic might seep into her world.
A slow breath escaped her, but the tightness in her chest didn't ease. She closed her eyes briefly. The image lingered anyway—because she'd already seen something just as unbelievable:
The mansion itself.
It kept flashing through her thoughts like fragments of a half-remembered dream. The sunlit ivory walls... the grand twin staircases sweeping down like wings... the sound of the fountain, its waters glittering like silver rain in the driveway. The scent of flowers, the air—cleaner, sweeter than anything the city had ever offered. The world here shimmered, alive and unreal.
When they'd arrived, she'd simply stared. Part of her was afraid to even breathe, as though one wrong move might break the illusion. But she hadn't been turned away.
She was inside. Given a room.This room.
The bed was impossibly soft, its wooden frame carved with floral motifs. Silky sheets clung like water, and a velvet comforter rested over her like a borrowed crown. Paintings in gold-gilded frames adorned the walls. A plush armchair sat in a sunlit corner. Even the floor creaked softly beneath her boots when she first stepped in.
It felt like a dream. One she didn't belong in.
Her fingers curled into the velvet. It doesn't feel like I belong here.
And yet, they'd welcomed her. Offered her food, warmth. A place to breathe.
Maybe... just maybe, she thought, her eyes drifting again to the ceiling stars hidden among painted clouds, this is a dream I don't have to wake from.
It felt like being a little girl again, allowed to play princess in a castle—borrowing dreams that were never truly hers.
This isn't why I'm here, she reminded herself. But to someone who'd always lived with just enough, even witnessing this kind of life was intoxicating. She didn't need to own it. Just being here—surrounded by it—was enough to feel like she was living in another world. A world where survival wasn't tied to money, where simply existing didn't feel like a burden.
Then her thoughts turned to Erion.
He didn't work for money, Though she had no idea what his position paid, a place like this... it didn't seem like something anyone needed to work for.
A knock interrupted her spiraling thoughts.
She sat up quickly, adjusted her clothes, and opened the door.
There he was. The man she'd just been thinking about.
Gone was the usual heavy jacket. He wore an open plaid shirt over a plain tee, ripped jeans, and sandals. Casual. Almost relaxed.
"Feeling comfy?" he asked, stepping into the room.
Evah returned to the edge of the bed. He settled into a nearby chair.
"All good," she said with a smile.
"You're surprisingly cheerful after talking to Riko," he remarked.
She shrugged. "Of course. Doctor Riko was kind and understanding." She said it matter-of-factly.
He sighed, then continued more seriously. "Anyway, think of this as a vacation. Don't worry—Ar'asia is secure." He leaned on the nearby table, resting his cheek on one hand. "I've already put together a squad to handle the case. But, you're not allowed to tell anyone. For your safety."
His blue eyes locked onto hers—intense, professional, unsettling.
"Stop it, Erion," she snapped. "Just say what you mean. Stop hiding behind that mask. It's confusing."
But he didn't flinch. Still, still as stone. Legs crossed. Eyes sharp.
"I trust you now," she said finally. "Just tell me what to do."
Frustrated, she flopped backward onto the bed, making the mattress bounce beneath her.
A chuckle slipped from him. "I hope that's true."
In her mind, she muttered, I don't really have a choice.
That night, Evah heard strange sounds—screaming, growling... howling?
She couldn't tell.
Maybe it was just the exhaustion from the past few days.
Or maybe…
Maybe it was her own voice, crying for help.
EXT. GAZEBO, MCQUIDE RESIDENCE – 6:00 AM
"Are you Lord Erion's fiancée?" a small voice asked.
Evah turned. A boy, maybe eight or nine, stood nearby. He smiled so brightly it warmed her chest—reminded her of her little brother when he was that age.
"Oh, hello! I'm sorry, but I'm not," she said gently.
Erion sat beside her at the circular table near the lake. The moment she spoke, the boy's expression crumpled, as if she'd just kicked a puppy.
"Miko, be kind," Erion said.
The boy pouted, silent and scolded, then ran back toward the greenhouse.
"You scared him," Erion said with a faint smirk.
"I did not!"
"You broke his heart." He shook his head, mock-disappointed.
"Is he your brother?"
"Not quite. He's Silas's grandson, the one who escorted you yesterday" Erion smiled faintly as the morning sun crept higher, casting a golden shimmer over the water.
"Most of the people here have worked with us all their lives. They're practically family," he added. "So, try not to act too bratty. They already think you're the Lady." He winked.
She was about to protest, but footsteps interrupted her.
A man approached—middle-aged, in slippers, shorts, and a short-sleeved shirt. Despite the creases in his face, the resemblance to Erion was unmistakable. Beside him, a woman in a simple sundress walked gracefully, her smile warm, her presence calm. Two attendants followed with trays of food.
This wasn't what she expected. She'd imagined Erion's parents in tailored suits or elegant gowns. But there was no disappointment. Only surprise. They looked... welcoming.
Maybe when you're truly wealthy, you don't need to prove it, she thought.
"What do you mean you're not getting married?" his mother exclaimed, clearly upset.
Erion winced. He'd seen this coming, but it still hit harder than expected.
He should have warned them.
Evah smiled awkwardly.
"We're not," he said plainly. "She's here for protection."
"But you know the only reason you'd bring a girl home is if you were marrying her," his father said, voice soft but firm.
"I have the Major General's permission. Don't worry," Erion replied, lifting a cup of coffee.
Only four people sat at the table, but it felt like a family reunion. And she didn't belong.
"You've been gone for years and now show up like this?" his mother said, frustrated.
This is just like a drama, Evah thought. Rich people problems.
His father remained quiet, but his face said enough—disappointment was clear.
"No one outside this family can know why she's here," Erion said, steady but firm. "If letting them think she's my fiancée keeps her safe, then that's what we'll do."
His mother sighed. "You'll break their hearts."
Evah felt a pang of guilt. They'd all been kind to her. Now it felt like she was the villain in someone else's story.
She bowed. "I'm sorry for the trouble."
But the woman was already beside her, patting her back gently. "Oh no, dear. It's not your fault."
"Your name is Evallithyia, right? You're safe here. That's what matters," she said sincerely.
"We should eat," his father said at last. "Food's getting cold."
From a distance, they looked like any other family.
This, Evah thought, this is real luxury.