Twenty years ago.
Nestled within a wide stretch of rolling farmland stood a modest home, its weathered walls marked by years of wind and sun. Around it, golden wheat swayed gently, blending with green crops that moved like waves under a calm breeze.
The small house seemed almost hidden in nature, as if it belonged more to the fields than to the world itself.
A wooden roof, worn and slightly faded, rested above the structure, while a creaking porch marked the entrance.
Inside, warmth filled the space. Sunlight slipped through cracked windows, scattering soft patterns across simple but cozy furniture.
In one corner of the room sat a young girl, likely in her mid-teens, carefully crafting small accessories.
She was strikingly beautiful, wide grey eyes, delicate features, long golden-blonde hair, and luminous skin that caught the light whenever she moved.
While painting one of her creations, she tilted her head and compared its color with her dress.
"This doesn't suit it… it needs something brighter. Hmm… maybe red would work."
A voice suddenly broke her concentration, "how many times have I told you not to think out loud?"
She flinched slightly, turning toward the sound.
"You always do that… at least make some noise when you enter, brother! You scared me again."
A young man stood at the doorway. His features closely mirrored hers, same hair color, same eyes, tall and well-built with a calm, composed presence.
However, dust and dirt clung to his clothes, and a scythe rested in his hand, hinting at a long day of work.
Looking at him, she frowned.
"You should wash up first instead of standing there."
"So Miss Elva is in a bad mood again," he replied lightly.
"If only you had called me to help you today, I could've..."
"I already told you," he interrupted, voice calm but firm, "this kind of work isn't for you. It's better if you stay home and focus on your accessories."
Elva noticed the subtle annoyance in his tone and quickly shifted the subject, smiling.
"Since you like them so much… is this one good enough?"
He's expression softened, "It's beautiful… but something feels missing."
"What is it?"
He stepped closer, gently placing the accessory into her hair, "this."
Elva burst into laughter.
"You really are too smooth with words."
He didn't respond, just watched her laugh for a moment before she looked up, "thank you, Albert."
After resting, the two decided to walk through the fields as evening settled.
It had become a habit of Elva's, walking barefoot through the soft earth, enjoying the cool touch of the soil beneath her feet.
Albert glanced at her, remembering.
She always asks the same kind of questions at this time…
Elva was fifteen years younger than him.
Their mother had given birth to her a year after the death of their younger brother. After losing both parents, Albert had taken responsibility for her upbringing when he was just nine.
"Brother," she said suddenly, "do you think it's time to get married? You're already thirty."
Albert smirked, "so you're bored again? What happened to all that talk about being strong and independent?"
Elva laughed, "I'm not talking about me. I'm talking about you."
He gently tapped her head.
"You little. What are you really trying to ask?"
She shook her head.
"You're the one who's been coming home late lately. That's all."
Albert chuckled.
"Don't tell me you think I'm in love… are you jealous?"
Her reply came instantly and flatly.
"No. Why would I be? I just asked."
He laughed louder this time.
"Alright, alright. I believe you. Let's head back, it's getting late."
A year later.
Inside the house during a quiet summer night, Elva sat by the window, her chin resting on her hand, gaze distant. The usual energy she once had had faded over the past months.
Albert watched her silently.
Something's been off… what changed?
Her lively nature had slowly dimmed, replaced by long silences and wandering thoughts.
Suddenly, she spoke, "brother… I need to tell you something important."
Albert continued eating his soup, "what is it?"
"I've decided to get married."
The spoon froze mid-air.
In the next instant, soup splattered as Albert choked slightly.
"…What?" he said sharply, "With who? When did this happen?"
"I'll explain everything."
The man she intended to marry was a merchant from the village, a traveler from the East named Marco.
Albert knew him, at least as a passing acquaintance, but had never imagined such a relationship existed between them.
Elva explained that they had kept it hidden until they were sure of their decision.
Marco planned to return east to settle there, and she intended to follow him.
At first, Albert reacted with anger, but as time passed, his resistance faded. Marco was kind, hardworking, and came from a respectable family, and more importantly, he genuinely cared for her.
Eventually, Albert accepted it.
Months later, the wedding took place. Elva was happy, truly happy, and that alone softened Albert's heart.
After the ceremony, it was time for her to leave with her husband.
Albert stood quietly as the carriage disappeared down the road, the house felt emptier than expected. Still, he told himself she was simply happy, that was enough.
But the silence didn't last long.
A close friend returned.
Years of travel later, Norman came back to the village.
Albert welcomed him, though this time he wasn't alone, his wife Meryl accompanied him.
They had been married for a year.
As old friends, Norman invited Albert to join their travels, but he declined, choosing instead to focus on expanding his work before visiting Elva.
A few days later, Norman and Meryl departed southward.
Before leaving, Norman smiled, said, "take care, Albert. Send my regards to Elva when you see her."
"Of course. You two take care as well."
Time passed quickly.
A year after Norman's departure, Albert transformed his small farming work into a modest merchant caravan. Slowly, the business began to grow.
Finally, he decided it was time to visit Elva.
It's been too long… I wonder how she's doing. Her last message said she was fine.
Carriages were prepared, gifts carefully selected.
He felt a rare excitement, he would see his sister again after so long.
After days of travel, he arrived.
The village was smaller than expected.
"I thought it would be bigger…"
As he entered with his carriage full of gifts, villagers stared with curiosity. Something about the atmosphere felt… off.
He stepped down and asked about Marco.
The moment the name was mentioned, the man's expression changed.
"…Are you here to offer condolences?"
Albert froze.
"Condolences?… What are you talking about?"
The man hesitated.
"You didn't know? The whole village was shocked… especially after her death. She… committed suicide."
Albert's breath caught.
"Who…?"
"Marco's wife. From the Brown family. That's who you're asking about, right?"
Silence fell.
Everything around him blurred.
The only person he had left in this world… was gone.