Chapter 1
In the town of Greenvale, April had arrived. The grass was a vivid green, and the air was filled with the sweet melody of birds singing. At The Grand Inn, Zane, the gatekeeper, stood watch. Meanwhile, Edmund Fairchild, dressed sharply in a tailored suit, felt a sense of helplessness settling in. He had been invited to a blind date and was anxiously wondering if Lady Ceclia would accompany him. The date was supposed to be with Diana Randall, a girl rumored to be just one year younger than him, strikingly beautiful, and fresh out of college. Despite Diana finding herself in a state of perpetual singlehood following her graduation, it seemed like there was something different about her—something that intrigued him. After all, Clara Waverly had mentioned that Diana wasn't especially keen on dating. So much so, she hadn't even bothered to exchange contact information with him. That day at The Grand Inn, Zane’s incessant urging had been the only reason Diana had agreed to this meeting at all. “Don’t worry,” Clara had said with a playful grin. “You’ll charm her. Just be yourself!” But along with passing time, times had changed—and Felix Waverly, the family’s well-connected patriarch, would undoubtedly expect his daughter to engage in a relationship that carried all the hallmarks of tradition and propriety. Edmund's head was swirling with thoughts of what might there be behind Diana's reluctance to meet him. The tension of the situation pressed down on him as he recalled that he had not even requested Diana's WeChat ID, so he was at a loss for how to reach her now. “I should probably call Clara,” he muttered to himself as he stepped inside the inn. “Good morning, sir! Do you have a reservation?” a cheerful young attendant greeted him with a smile. He hesitated, recalling that he had completely forgotten to confirm the meeting due to the last-minute nature of it all. “Uh, yes, for Room Five Hundred Three,” he replied, trying to sound confident. The attendant’s expression suddenly shifted, her brow furrowing in concern. “Five Hundred Three? That room is currently undergoing renovations, I’m afraid. Perhaps you might have the wrong room number?” Edmund’s heart sank. “Wait, are you saying the room's being renovated? I don’t have her WeChat to contact her; what do I do now?” Frantically, he ran through Clara’s earlier message, his mind racing. It read: “Felix Waverly: Good luck, son! Diana is really looking forward to this. She just graduated and is also trying to make her way into the prestigious Academy. She and I agreed to meet at Richwater Lodge, Room 503. Don't be late, son! I believe in you!” He glanced back at the attendant, panic rising within him. “Is there any way to reach her then?” As if hit by a sudden realization, the attendant's face lit up. “Doesn’t that mean you’re here to meet someone? If you’re looking for the lady, she came in early this morning, around eight. She’s actually waiting in Room Five Hundred Two, right next door.” Edmund’s heart raced with the prospect, but he was puzzled as to why she’d arrived so early and if perhaps there might be a mix-up. “Are you certain there’s no mistake? I mean, she’s not here for anyone else, is she?” The attendant chuckled. “Not that I know of! She’s been here waiting for her date. Everything seems in order, trust me.” Relief washed over him, despite the uncertainty still lingered as he took a deep breath, straightened his jacket, and prepared to meet what could be a fateful encounter.
Chapter 2
"Is he not going to ask about me?" The attendant shook her head. "No, he didn't mention you, but the lady staying in Room 503 is the first guest of today. You're the second. Honestly, during this hour, not many people come to dine here." Edmund Fairchild glanced over at Randall Mistwood with a knowing look. Swallowing hard, he considered that such a place, The Grand Inn, primarily hosted professionals and their lunches or meetings, mostly attracting middle-aged folks. Who would make a particular trip to the Inn just for breakfast? Edmund straightened his suit with a deep breath, aware that he would need to impress soon enough. His heart raced with anticipation as he prepared for an interview at The Academy later that day. The sleek, tailored suit he wore felt slightly overdressed for breakfast, but it was versatile enough for all sorts of occasions, from weddings to, as it turned out, job interviews. He approached the door to Room 502, beside Room 503 where Randall was staying. Taking a moment to gather himself, he knocked lightly. "Come in," a cool voice answered. Edmund opened the door and was immediately struck by the sight before him—Clara Waverly stood there, effortlessly elegant. She was dressed in a form-fitting black dress accompanied by high heels, which accentuated her icy beauty. The simplicity of her dark attire combined with the light willow top she wore clung to her flawless skin. He hadn’t expected her to exude such charm—she was truly stunning, like a vision that belonged in a high fashion magazine. Was this the same Lady Clara he had known, presumed to live a simple existence? How had she transformed into such a glamorous figure? With her soft, wavy hair falling gracefully around her shoulders, she looked questioningly at Edmund, as if pondering who he was. "Hi there, I'm Edmund Fairchild," he stammered, caught somewhat off guard. "I'm here to meet Clara. Um, Lady Ceclia is my aunt…" "Clara?" A frown creased her brow. "Do I know you?" “Not really,” Edmund admitted, feeling the awkwardness in the air. Clara’s demeanor held an unyielding chill, making him realize he had to adjust his approach swiftly. He took a seat at the small table in the vast suite. The Grand Inn felt different from what he had expected—large spaces adorned with an eclectic mix of decor. The dining area showed off a big table meant for sharing meals, perhaps too fancy for a breakfast of scrambled eggs. "You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to," she said, narrowing her eyes slightly at him. “Bull’s-eye,” he replied quickly, “I don’t mean to waste your time. I just figured since we’re both here, why not play along? You’d probably prefer to just go home instead of sitting here. We could make up a good story to explain our meeting later.” “Do I know him?" Clara questioned more to herself than to him, blinking in disbelief. Edmund let out a sigh. “You might as well know that he certainly isn’t going to waste my time here. I can’t see the appeal in dragging this out any longer.” Slowly, Clara sat up straighter, as if considering how to handle this situation. Her diamond earrings sparkled in the afternoon light—a sight that might leave others in disbelief as to whether he had the guts to be here with her. Edmund studied her: about five feet six, Clark Kent-ish clean-cut with striking blue eyes, shining brightly—far removed from the ordinary students he had known back at school. Unfortunately, he hadn’t expected such grace to challenge him today, but as she glanced at him for approval, decisiveness broke the tension in the room. Despite feeling inconsequential, he sensed a unique charm in the way she held herself. Before he could say his goodbyes, a panicked voice broke through. “Excuse me! Guests!” A maidservant burst into the room, slightly breathless. She immediately swept into a deep bow before them both. “Ladies and gentlemen, sorry to interrupt! We have news! Lady Diana has just arrived, and she said she’s come to meet the group. She’s in Room 501!” Edmund exchanged glances with Clara, sensing a fresh wave of intrigue breaking between them.
Chapter 3
Edmund Fairchild stood frozen, eyes wide as he gaped at Zane. This was painfully awkward! The maidservant discreetly glanced at Edmund, taking in his flustered expression. She bent at the waist, as if too intimidated to look up at her manager. Even as she bowed her head to the guest beside her, Lady Cybil, there was a hint of unease in the air. “I’m so sorry, Manager! I just started working for Sir Reginald and didn’t clarify before—my sincerest apologies!” she blurted, her face flushed. Edmund's gaze shifted stiffly to Lady Cybil at the dining table, who was still examining him, her eyes narrowing slightly until a light smile crept onto her lips. It seemed even she found this ordeal somewhat ridiculous. “I mistakenly thought you were looking for a match for Lady Cecilia,” Edmund chuckled, attempting to ease the tension. Lady Cybil abruptly let out a laugh, the kind that surprised even her. With a hand covering her mouth, she shook her head lightly, “I never said I was here for that purpose.” Edmund laughed awkwardly at the situation. If there were a mouse hole in The Grand Inn's dining room, he would have eagerly dove into it. The embarrassment of wandering into Randall Mistwood's room while trying to find his date with Lady Cecilia? Unparalleled! The idea alone could send chills down anyone's spine, especially if Lord and Lady discovered him in such a scenario. “Might I apologize, again?” he murmured, standing up and returning his seat to its original position. He needed to regroup. It was true that his mother had pointed out that his potential match was only a year younger than him—just a fresh graduate and hardly more than a little girl. But Lady Cybil appeared younger than that, or at least, too youthful. What was he doing rushing into these match-making schemes when he barely had a handle on himself? He followed the maidservant out of the room, and as they left, she once again bowed and offered her apologies, closing the door slowly behind him. Yet as soon as Edmund was gone, a subtle shift occurred; the high-spirited face of the curly-haired Yvette faded away. Match-making? Just the thought of those two words sent a throbbing headache through Isolde Fairbrook. Thoughts of her mother, Lady Eleanor, bringing up Serena only deepened the discomfort. “Isolde, when are you going to find yourself a husband? I know you’re busy with work, but at the very least you should consider dating! You’re twenty-eight now, my dear. In just a couple of years, it’ll be too late!” Isolde cringed at her mother’s words. How her heart twisted when she remembered the pain in Lady Eleanor’s eyes over such discussions. “My dear Fairbrook, I just want the best for you. Your father left us too soon. The responsibility has fallen on you, and I can’t help but worry. You’re overwhelmed with work, and there’s so much more you could experience outside the confines of your responsibilities." Isolde sighed, heavily. She had been twenty-eight for a year now, and not once had she entertained a relationship since the tragic loss of Lord Reginald ten years ago in that car accident. Every ounce of her energy had gone into her career, thrusting aside anything remotely resembling a personal life. But the clock was ticking—she found herself nearing thirty. It was a daunting realization that her life had become consumed by work. Sure, she desired time for hobbies, for things she enjoyed. Yet The Guild was relentlessly demanding, and today she was cooped up for meetings on a private contract that seemed like it would stretch into the afternoon. Love? That kind of indulgence was impossible for her now. Even the thought of where to even find time to date seemed far-fetched. "How ridiculous," she muttered to herself, shaking her head. Then again, there was work to get back to, and once she tackled the contract, there was a meeting waiting afterward, too. For now, Isolde Fairbrook was a prisoner of her own ambitions, more devoted to enterprises than to herself.
Chapter 4
Edmund Fairchild stood lost in thought, his eyes caught by the sudden brightness in Isolde Fairbrook’s gaze as she fixed her attention on Gatekeeper Zane. Wait a second! Hadn’t that guy just introduced himself as someone set up to meet with Cecilia? Between his looks and demeanor, he reminded Edmund too much of Manager Randall. Based on how he spoke to Edmund and mentioned the meeting, it was likely that today would be just a formality for their meeting. Perhaps it would be wise to have a word with Manager before going any further—maybe just pretend to be a casual friend or scholarly companion to appease Sir Mom? From the tone of Fairchild's thoughts, it didn’t seem as though Edmund was seriously looking for a match; however, he was intrigued. After Edmund exited the room, an apologetic Maidservant trailed him, eager to voice her hope that Edmund would not take her actions to heart. If he chose to dine here again, the Inn would throw in a complimentary fruit platter on the house—a generous offer from a newly hired attendant like Elinor who wanted to make amends privately. Strangely enough, upon reflecting on this, Edmund thought he would never set foot in such a place again, especially not for a measly fruit platter in a place tarnished by poor service! “It’s fine, really. Just go on about your duties. I’m not bothered,” Edmund reassured her. The attendant nodded gratefully, relieved to encounter a guest as understanding as Mr. Randall. Standing before Room 503, Edmund straightened his clothes; surely this time, he wouldn’t run into Randall again. He felt the pressure rising at the thought of facing him. He knocked on the door, and a voice from within instructed him to enter, sounding somewhat aloof. Once inside, he was greeted by a young woman dressed in a flowing white top and a yellow skirt, with a low ponytail framing her pretty features. She was indeed attractive but paled in comparison to Lady Cybil at the neighboring table. “Hi there, I’m here to meet with Cecilia. I’m Edmund Fairchild. You must be Zara’s daughter?” he introduced himself, hoping to ease into the conversation. Diana stood up upon seeing him, “Yep, that’s me! I'm Sir Quinn's daughter. You must be Vivia's?” Edmund relaxed, confirming the connection with his own mother, “Right!” He headed to the table, pulling out a chair, but before he could sit, the door swung open again. Standing outside was none other than Lady Cybil from earlier, now accompanied by two hulking figures donning sunglasses, resembling intimidating bodyguards rather than friendly companions. What was her deal? “Is it common in dating to switch partners mid-meeting?” Lady Cybil asked pointedly. “Let’s go!” “Wait, uh—?” Edmund stammered, looking bewildered. Isolde's intense gaze met his, and as she leaned slightly, the two large men entered, gesturing for him to step out. “Mr. Fairchild, this way, please.” Edmund stared at the attendant caught between the chaos, still unsure how to react. The situation felt too sudden, but he understood she wasn’t exactly eager about being set up with him. After all, he had just mentioned going to Randall's room, and they'd had an odd exchange just moments prior, discussing farewells and “going home”ways. It might have been a misunderstanding, but Lady Flora clearly hadn't intended for this to go smoothly. “Um, as you can see, I might have to step out. Perhaps we’ll meet again sometime?” he managed to say, feeling awkward. “Right, home it is,” he echoed nervously, caught now between choices. Feeling like he was being pushed out of The Inn, he found a Bentley parked by the curb. Isolde Fairbrook slid open the car door and gestured for him to join her in the backseat. “Come on in,” she said with a slight side glance at Edmund. The two imposing men were still stationed closely behind him, almost as if they were prepared to tackle him if he made a run for it. Edmund’s face fell into a grimace as he neared the vehicle, puzzled by how this young woman seemed to hold such power. Unless her family just had money, which this Bentley insinuated but didn't clarify. “I truly didn’t mean any harm,” he started, sensing the need to reassure, “I was just on my way to Randall’s without realizing…” Isolde shot the guardians a sharp look, which seemed to suggest that they were overstepping their bounds, and they quickly pushed Edmund into the back seat with her. As soon as the door shut behind them, she addressed the driver: “Take us to Sir Kingston.” Edmund blinked at her words, taken aback. “Where on earth is Sir Kingston?” he thought.
Chapter 5
The car sped along Tarmac Road, despite Edmund Fairchild being a prisoner inside, Randall Mistwood did not seem to enjoy exerting any undue pressure on him. Though Edmund Fairchild asked where she was taking him, Randall maintained her silence. It wasn’t until the Bentley pulled into the Great Eastern Car Park, which resembled a private parking lot, that the moment of truth arrived. A young gatekeeper named Zane stood watch at the entrance. Once the car came to a halt, the driver stepped out to open the gate while outside stood only Isolde Fairbrook. “First, meet Isolde Fairbrook, a sir from the Youth Guild,” Randall announced casually. The Youth Guild? A sir from the Youth Guild drives a Bentley worth millions? “What do you think about Edmund Fairchild? Is being his master’s friend and scholar a decent gig?” Randall blurted out. “I just came from seeing Ceclia, and talking to Diana was no different from chatting with him; they’re both the same to me.” Edmund Fairchild was taken aback, trying to piece together Randy's intentions in bringing him here. He quickly realized the situation was more shocking than he anticipated. “Flora? Are you kidding? Please don’t mess with him! He really thought that? That attendant tricked him.” Isolde looked at Edmund with an icy gaze. “May I ask how old you are?” “Twenty-four,” he responded honestly. Isolde nodded, “He’s twenty-eight, so we’re roughly the same age. What kind of work do you do?” Twenty-eight? Just a few years’ difference?! That mister is really ruthless. “Flora~ his math skills are okay, but technically, aren’t we roughly the same age?” she continued on, chuckling. “I don’t mind being a sir. He asked me if he could answer his questions, but it’s challenging to let him get back home—this is his territory,” Randall shot back. Edmund, exasperated with Zane, remarked, “He just graduated! What kind of work does he have? He plans to apply to the Academy, does that count as work?” Isolde raised an eyebrow. “The Academy? Is the pay good?” “Decent, I guess. He hasn’t started yet, but I heard the internship pays fifteen hundred a month.” Edmund responded. Isolde glanced at him with a puzzled expression, suggesting she thought he was exaggerating. “Do I look that young? Do I have a car?” Edmund shook his head. Isolde pointed her leg towards a willow green Defender parked in the lot. “What about that one? If I agree to be his master’s friend and scholar, he can give that to me!” Edmund turned to gaze at the luxury vehicle that looked like something out of a television series and was left dumbfounded. “Do I own a house?” she pressed, noticing his silence. This caused Edmund to reel back. Isolde pulled out her device, seemingly searching for something. After a moment, she found and showed a picture to Edmund. “He just bought a cottage about two or three hundred square feet; initially, he planned to use it as a personal storehouse. If I agree to be his master’s friend and scholar, he’ll give it to me.” Edmund stared at the picture of the “cottage,” realizing it would easily cost over three million dollars! At his salary at the Academy, he’d be working from the Qing Dynasty until now and still couldn’t afford it. What was she trying to convey? Was she flaunting her wealth? Even Edmund, who didn’t take things seriously, thought it wasn’t merely a casual encounter with Randall; he wouldn’t be one to attract a wealthy woman’s attention. “Now I honestly believe he needs a Clara Waverly to cope, doesn’t he? Master’s friend and scholar?” Isolde added. Edmund facepalmed, wishing he could escape Zane’s scrutiny. Wealth demands respect! A sir is still a sir! But even as he glanced at Randall Mistwood—that lavish, imposing presence mirrored by her beauty—he couldn’t bring himself to speak those words. Everyone fantasizes about being close to a wealthy woman, but doing so through desperation is another story; it felt like a leapfrog. However, I have The System after all!
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