Between Rain and Forgotten Dreams

Chapter 1

As crimson blood flowed down her pale thigh, pooling on the pristine bathroom floor, Lady Eleanor Goldleaf felt a wave of weakness wash over her. Fear gripped her as she clutched her stomach, memories from five years ago crashing over her like a tidal wave.
She pushed the man before her away with all her strength. Sir Alaric Steelfist, the Asian superstar known to send countless women into a frenzy, stood before her, but her delicate features were set in a resolute expression that screamed “stay away.”
Indeed, after enduring solitude, helplessness, and the loss of her unborn child, Eleanor had made the decision to sever all ties with him. She no longer wanted anything to do with Alaric.
But he wasn’t willing to let her go. Their unexpected reunion reignited a connection she thought was long buried. Once, he'd sacrificed her for his own future, and now, standing atop a mountain of success, he was finally tasting the bitter fruit of his choices. Despite having everything a man could desire, his heart felt empty without her.
He believed this was destiny compelling him to reclaim her. This time, he was determined to do whatever it took to win her back…

Chapter 2

The drizzling season was the most bothersome time of the year, especially in Tyburn Port, a city known for its persistent rain. The downpours would bring everything to a standstill, turning the streets into a chaotic mess. People would often stand at their doors, sighing at the uncooperative skies before reluctantly stepping out to face the day.
On days like these, her beloved little pink car had to stay home to rest, and she found herself grateful for the convenience of public transport.
This morning, she took the metro directly to The Grand Inn of Eastward in the East District. A wedding feast was happening there today, and as the wedding planner for the bride-to-be, she needed to ensure everything was in order before the celebrations began.
Lady Eleanor Goldleaf wore a delicate, cream-colored modified qipao, its simplicity accentuated by a solitary embroidered peony on the right shoulder. She wasn't tall—standing at a claimed five foot six but likely closer to five foot five—but her proportions were well matched, and the fitted dress showcased her graceful figure perfectly.
Her cream-colored high heels wrapped around her slender ankles with elegant straps, stylish yet understated.
Upon exiting the subway, she opened her umbrella against the light rain, crossed the street, and walked a few steps to the hotel. Today, however, the entrance was bustling with more people than usual, likely due to a high-profile guest staying at the inn. Gaggles of devoted fans braved the rain, brandishing welcome signs—commonplace in a place like Taiwanis Isle.
Eleanor didn't have time to read the names on the posters held by the excited girls; a somewhat bitter smile formed as she hurried inside, thoughts racing. At her age, she was no longer one to pine after celebrities. She had experienced love and marriage at one point, yet found herself disillusioned and weary of it all.
Her mind was filled with work—nothing but work.
While waiting for the elevator, she mentally prepared herself for the tasks ahead: heading to the bridal suite to check on the makeup artist, then off to the banquet hall and kitchen. She also needed to call her assistant to ensure the party favors were delivered to the hotel by ten o'clock.
The sound of the elevator dinged. As the doors opened, Lady Eleanor stepped inside with other guests, but just as the doors were closing, the opposite side opened to reveal several men in dark suits who formed a protective circle around a tall figure.
The well-guarded man made his way into the hotel lobby, prompting a frenzy among the scattered fans who erupted into excited screams, their voices overwhelmed by the flash of cameras from the media.
He wore stylish brown-tinted sunglasses, his hair tastefully highlighted. His outfit—a pink designer shirt paired with loose white trousers—exuded effortless charm and captured everyone's attention.
This man was a natural celebrity, the kind who made women swoon and men envious—none other than Sir Alaric Steelfist, the Korean superstar renowned across all of Asia.
As the afternoon wore on and the wedding festivities neared their conclusion, Eleanor still found no respite.
For reasons beyond her comprehension, chaos ensued that day. Just the evening before, the bride—who had been thrilled about her impending nuptials—had succumbed to a sudden bout of pre-wedding jitters, breaking down into tears and refusing to let the makeup artist do her job. Panic-stricken, Eleanor had to hastily call the groom-to-be, Bran the Scribe, for help, but his comfort had fallen on deaf ears.
Worrying about the timely start to the ceremony, Eleanor steeled herself and faced the bride, gradually coaxing her back to smiles and approval for the makeup artist to begin her work.

Chapter 3

Eleanor Goldleaf stared at her watch impatiently as she waited for the elevator to arrive. Five minutes had already passed since she called for it, and a sinking feeling of dread settled in her stomach. It was just one of those days.
The evening’s event was built around gathering the region’s elite, and the luxurious banquet hall was waiting for her just two floors down. Yet here she was, stuck on the tenth floor, fuming in her high heels. The elevator, it seemed, had chosen today to take its sweet time as it lingered on the twenty-second floor.
“I swear, if this elevator doesn’t show up soon…” she muttered under her breath, tapping her foot against the floor in frustration.
Giving her irritation no further thought, Eleanor decided to take the stairs. After all, it was only eight flights down, and she could use the exercise. Gripping the banister, she hurriedly descended the deserted fire escape. Most people preferred to take the elevator rather than climb in a hotel this tall—who could blame them?
As she reached what she thought was the fifth floor, a man brushed past her, moving upwards. He wore a white baseball cap pulled low over his face. Startled by the unexpected encounter in the otherwise vacant stairwell, they paused for a moment, instinctively taking the opportunity to glance at one another.
It was a fleeting second; they shifted to pass each other, both swallowing surprise.
“Eleanor,” he said, his deep voice echoing in the stairwell.
“Sir Alaric Steelfist.” Eleanor’s heart raced. Surprise flickered across her features, but deeper still was the sensation she couldn’t quite control.
A wave of unease washed over her—he wasn’t supposed to be here. She had intentionally avoided all news about him since their separation, yet here he stood, an echo from the past. Her instinct was to frown and tighten her lips, broadcasting clear signals of rejection to the man who had once meant the world to her.
This morning, she’d seen a group of hysterical fans crowding the hotel lobby, and it dawned on her now—Alaric was in town. He was a superstar, and she'd let her guard down far too quickly. If she’d known he’d be staying here, she would have planned accordingly to keep her distance. It felt like fate was playing a cruel joke on her.
But, despite the nagging sensation in her gut, she could choose to ignore him.
“Just act like he’s a ghost,” she resolved, flicking her gaze past him and continuing her descent.
“Wait, don’t go.” His voice had an earnest urgency, an entreaty that stopped her in her tracks.
Without thinking, he reached out, grasping her soft arm to keep her from slipping past. Eleanor nearly stumbled, caught off guard, and almost lost her balance.
“Careful,” he said, his steady chest and arms forming a wall of support as she righted herself.
Sudden memories washed over her like the tide: moments they had shared, laughter that had filled the air, and the unmistakable scent that still clung to him—one that once intoxicated her.
For a couple of seconds, she found herself lost in the haze of remembrance, but the sting of past hurt quickly pulled her back. Eleanor pushed him away, distancing herself and solidifying a barrier between them.
“Don’t call me that,” she replied sharply, her voice firm and resolute. “I’m not your Isolde anymore, Mr. Steelfist.”
The handing over of divorce papers had severed any lingering ties between them. Now, there was nothing familiar left—just the echoes of a life they had once built together, now shattered.
Alaric’s gaze fell to the empty space where she had been just moments before, and with a soft sigh he called out her chosen name one last time. “Isolde…”
Eleanor felt a pang of pain at the sound, yet she stood strong, burying the tremor in her heart. They were as good as strangers now, and as much as fate had conspired to bring them together here, today was no new beginning. It was a chance, perhaps, to finally close the door on their shared past.

Chapter 4

Sir Alaric Steelfist’s striking features beneath the brim of his hat were marred by a flicker of melancholy and regret. He had sacrificed everything to chase his dreams, but the greatest loss was undoubtedly that of the woman he loved most.
Lady Eleanor Goldleaf regarded him with an expression that was foreign to him—almost resentful—and he found it hard to be surprised.
If Lady Eleanor would just sit down and truly listen to his explanation, if he could sincerely ask for her forgiveness, there might still be a chance.
“Goldleaf, please listen to me…” he called out, his heart racing as she prepared to leave.
She paused but turned to look at him, her posture regal; yet the frostiness of her gaze pierced deeper than the coldest iceberg.
“Sir Alaric…” Her voice was a chilling gust of wind, making him shiver involuntarily. “I have no interest in what you have to say, and I don’t want to hear it. This is it—goodbye.”
She could only wish to never behold him again in this lifetime.
No, Sir Alaric Steelfist could not accept her ice-cold demeanor; he hurried to her side and grabbed her hand, desperate to prevent her from leaving.
“Goldleaf, I’m begging you, don’t do this…”
“Let go of me.” Lady Eleanor was seething with anger. Although there were seldom any passersby in the stairwell, if someone were to see the Asian superstar, Sir Alaric Steelfist, entangled with her, it would undoubtedly become tomorrow’s headlines.
God knows, she would rather share a dubious headline with a pig than be associated with Sir Alaric.
However, a woman’s strength couldn’t compete with a man’s. Despite his carefulness to not hurt her, he stubbornly refused to release her.
“Please, just let me go…”
Just then, a woman’s voice echoed down the hall. “Alaric, are you in here?”
Both Sir Alaric and Lady Eleanor jolted apart, and she seized the moment to flee. Sir Alaric, however, surged after her. “Goldleaf, I’m in the penthouse suite on the top floor! My schedule is clear after midnight. Please meet me at twelve; I need to explain myself. Don’t render my words moot; don’t sentence me to silence...” His pleas fell on deaf ears as Lady Eleanor shot him a withering look before making a hasty exit.
As she turned the corner on the fourth floor, she collided with a perfectly dressed woman, who distractedly glanced at her.
This woman was clearly searching for Sir Alaric.
And she? She wanted nothing to do with him, absolutely nothing.
Eleanor just wanted to escape this nightmarish stairwell and forget everything.
Midnight struck eleven minutes past twelve.
Sir Alaric Steelfist sat in a plush robe, a glass of top-shelf red wine in hand, staring pensively out the expansive floor-to-ceiling window.
His brow was furrowed, a stark contrast to his typical image of cheerfulness, warmth, and approachability.
The night view of Tyburn Port was exquisite, rivaling Seoulhaven, but he had no heart to enjoy it.
Would Lady Eleanor really come? Unlikely.
There was a one percent chance she would; meanwhile, he felt the ninety-nine percent chance she wouldn’t weigh heavily on his heart.
He nearly drained half the bottle of wine, yet his gloom only intensified.
In hopes of her potential visit, he had gone so far as to dismiss two hotel attendants and the security detail assigned to him.
But his wait seemed to be for naught.
At twelve thirty, the doorbell rang just as he finished the last sip of wine. Startled, he rose swiftly, hurried through the opulent living room of his luxurious penthouse, and flung open the door.
Outside stood—
Margaret Fairfield, his omnipresent agent.

Chapter 5

Sir Alaric Steelfist’s heart plummeted into despair as he stared at the closed door.
“You’ve been drinking,” Margaret Fairfield declared, a seasoned agent refusing to let the subtle defeat seep into her expression. She deftly pushed Sir Alaric inside the lavish suite and locked the door behind them.
With a wry smile, he replied, “This is a five-star hotel penthouse. Do you honestly think paparazzi are hiding behind the walls?”
“Maybe not, but your wholesome image is at stake. We can’t have any photos of you inebriated out there,” Margaret said, glancing at him like a protective mother hen.
Sir Alaric scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.
Image, image… God knew how much he had sacrificed for that image, including the love of the one woman he cherished most.
“What are you doing here? It's late. Shouldn’t you be concerned about my 'image' from your own room?” he shot back, anger simmering beneath the surface.
Margaret’s eyes darted briefly, caught in the act of bending her own rules. Thankfully, he was turned away and hadn’t noticed her moment of awkwardness.
“I heard you dismissed your butler and bodyguard. Why didn’t you inform me ahead of time?” she asked, pivoting the topic away from the elephant in the room.
“I didn’t think it was necessary to notify you. I just needed some time alone—no one around, whether in my room or outside,” he replied, his tone edged with the weariness that came from his fame. It felt like being treated worse than a convict.
Margaret stepped closer, captivated by the charming haze in his eyes, slightly clouded by alcohol. Her heart quickened, emotions that she had kept bottled up began to bubble to the surface. She reached out gently to touch him, but he easily sidestepped her intentions.
It wasn’t that he didn’t understand Margaret’s feelings for him; it was that his heart had never strayed from another woman.
As for Margaret, she was merely a competent agent, nothing more.
Feeling somewhat embarrassed, she withdrew her hand, working to regain her professional demeanor.
“Uh, you didn’t seem quite yourself during the media interview this afternoon. Were you distracted? What’s going on?”
“Nothing really, just a bit dizzy. The last few days have been rushed,” Sir Alaric answered, avoiding eye contact.
She bit her tongue to hold back her concern. “Oh, then you should get some rest. You have a commercial shoot first thing tomorrow.” That was the main reason they had come to Taiwanis Isle—an ad campaign from a company offering a jaw-dropping thirty million TWD for Sir Alaric to promote a men’s grooming line. It was an opportunity that would bolster his already shining reputation across Asia.
“Yeah, goodnight,” he muttered, waving dismissively before turning away, flopping down onto the king-sized bed with a heavy sigh.
As he drifted towards sleep, the lingering thought tormented him: Lady Eleanor Goldleaf wouldn’t be coming. She would never forgive him…
※※LW※※
Midnight struck.
After a hectic day, Lady Eleanor Goldleaf slipped into a warm bath, indulging herself with her favorite rose-scented oil.
Once relieved of her makeup, she discarded her contact lenses for thick-rimmed black glasses, donned a soft pink silk cami, and cradled a steaming mug of hot chocolate in her hands. She settled into her Victorian-style settee, barefoot, relishing the quiet comfort of her solitary retreat.
Eleanor lived in a trendy apartment complex built specifically for independent women, a testament to the changing times. In this bustling northern city, women over thirty—established in their careers yet still single—were growing increasingly common, making such living spaces quite the fad.
Having accepted she might remain single for life, Eleanor invested most of her savings at the beginning of this year into her fifteen-square-meter sanctuary.
The reason she fell in love with this place? A massive floor-to-ceiling window dominating almost an entire wall of her living room. With just a simple pull of the curtains, the enchanting view of the Tamsui River at night unfolded before her.
True, it was a bit far from the city's core, but the river's nighttime beauty made it all worthwhile.

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