THE YEARNING OF BROKEN HEARTS

CHAPTER 3: It Was Beautiful

CHAPTER 3: It Was Beautiful

The Montgomery estate stood at the edge of the district where the roads widened and the buildings grew fewer, leaving more space between structures as if the land itself had grown reluctant to be crowded. Elior arrived just after midday, when the sun had fully risen but had not yet reached its harshest point, which gave a pale light over the estate gates that stood slightly ajar as though they were not considered important enough to be strictly guarded.

He paused only briefly before entering.

There were no guards stationed at the front. No visible patrols along the perimeter walls. Only a quiet stillness that suggested either confidence in privacy or indifference toward intrusion. Elior noted it without judgment, only observation, as he stepped forward and crossed into the grounds.

The garden was the first thing he saw.

It was maintained, but not meticulously so. The hedges were trimmed evenly, though not shaped with the precision expected of noble households in the capital. The flower beds were arranged in simple patterns, more functional than decorative, and the pathways were clear but unadorned. Everything about it suggested upkeep without excess, care without display.

It did not resemble the estates Elior had served before.

Those estates had always announced themselves before they were seen. Symmetry, fountains, ornamental structures placed to impress rather than to serve. The Montgomery estate did none of that. It felt quiet as if not demanding any attention.

Elior continued walking.

The main house came into view shortly after, and even then it did not immediately assert itself as something grand. It was large, but not imposing. Structured, but not ornate. The stonework was clean and functional, the windows evenly spaced without decorative framing.

For someone described as “filthy rich,” the simplicity was unexpected.

Elior noted that as well.

A servant passed him in the corridor but the man barely looked at him.

That alone was enough confirmation.

The estate did not enforce strict scrutiny over its staff, or it employed enough transient workers that recognition was not an immediate concern. Elior adjusted his direction slightly as he moved through the interior, following the natural flow of passageways without drawing attention to himself.

He passed a sitting room next.

It was empty.

Further along, he passed a dining hall.

He continued moving and observed.

There were no visible signs of large household activity. No constant movement of servants. No strict separation between upper and lower quarters that could be clearly identified. Everything was too evenly arranged to suggest a traditional noble structure.

Which meant either the estate was newly organized, or deliberately structured to avoid attention.

Neither conclusion provided certainty.

He moved again.

It was only when he reached the rear passage leading beyond the main structure that something changed.

The air opened slightly as he stepped outside.

The corridor gave way to a wide lot behind the estate, bordered by low fencing and uneven stretches of cultivated ground. It was not a formal garden. There were no ornamental arrangements or decorative structures designed for display. Instead, there was soil work, organized in simple rows that suggested use rather than presentation.

Elior slowed his steps.

At first, there was only the sound of earth being worked. And so he continued forward until the figure came into view more clearly.

A man stood within the open lot, partially turned away, tending to the ground with steady, unbroken motion. There was no indication of status in his posture, no attempt at presentation, no awareness of being observed. His clothing was simple and worn at the sleeves, dusted lightly with soil as though he had been working there for some time.

Elior stopped at a distance and observed the figure in the open lot.

The man continued his work without interruption.

“That’s the lord of the manor.”

Elior gasped in surprise. A female servant stood nearby holding a vase of flowers carefully in both hands. She looked toward the open lot with ease, then glanced at Elior as if noting his curiosity.

“You new here?” she asked.

Elior inclined his head slightly. “Yes.”

She nodded once as if satisfied by that answer.

“Ah, I see. Well, that man is the master of this estate. He is Lucian Montgomery.”

Elior’s gaze returned to the figure in the field.

Lucian Montgomery.

He continued working the soil as if the title had no weight attached to it. There was no visible separation between his rank and his action, no adjustment in behavior that suggested awareness of status. He simply worked, as though the ground mattered more than anything the world could name him as.

The servant beside Elior shifted the vase slightly in her arms and spoke again, her tone lowering.

“Just be careful not to approach him too casually,” she said. “He is… hotheaded. He does not like people disturbing him when he is working.”

Elior gave a small nod.

“I understand.”

The servant lingered only a moment longer before turning away and walking back toward the estate, leaving him alone at the edge of the open space.

Elior remained still.

His attention returned fully to Lucian.

Only now did he see him more clearly.

The sun had begun to rise lower, and light caught on Lucian’s form that made the simplicity of his presence sharper rather than softer. And it was only when Lucian straightened slightly, brushing loose soil from his fingers before returning to the earth, that Elior noticed the way his face turned more fully into the light.

He was… handsome.

The thought came shamefully.

His features were balanced, defined, and unguarded which made him appear even more striking in stillness than in motion.

Elior’s breath slowed slightly.

He did not immediately understand why the realization held longer than it should have.

Lucian continued working, and that lack of awareness, more than anything, settled something strange in Elior’s chest. He had seen beauty before, but this was not that.

Elior found his gaze returning to the man again and again, his face warmed slightly.

It was subtle and was barely noticeable beneath his composure, but it persisted which somehow felt unfamiliar. He lowered his gaze for a brief moment, as if adjusting his focus.

When he looked up again, Lucian had shifted slightly, pushing himself up from the soil and glancing across the lot for a brief moment before returning to his task.

A lord of a manor tending the ground without servants.

Elior’s lips parted slightly before he realized it, and he closed them again just as quickly. His hand reached his chest as the heat crept up from his neck to his face. It was unfamiliar, sudden, and unearned, as though something inside him had reacted before he had been given time to understand why.

This was the first time he had experienced such a feeling, and it did not resemble anything he had been taught to recognize or control. It was not fear, nor anticipation, nor the careful stillness he had learned to maintain in the presence of patrons.

It was beautiful.

Elior looked at Lucian again as his fingers tightened lightly against his chest for a brief moment before falling away.

He did not understand what had changed within him, only that it had already changed, and that it did not feel like something he could return from.

And Elior remained standing there, unmoving, as if the world had briefly narrowed into a that figure in an open field.