By the time Kael leaves Hellsedge behind, the sky has already darkened completely.
Night stretches across the kingdom in cold shades of deep blue and black while the motorcar moves steadily along the empty road leading back toward the Ravenshade estate. The headlights cut through the darkness in narrow beams, illuminating only fragments of the path ahead before swallowing them again behind him.
The drive remains quiet.
Too quiet.
Even now, pieces of Devil's Forest still linger faintly in his mind.
The fog.
The footsteps.
Those enormous tracks beside his own.
Kael keeps his eyes fixed on the road.
He does not allow himself to think too deeply about what might have been following him inside that forest.
Eventually, the familiar iron gates of the Ravenshade residence appear ahead through the darkness. The guards stationed near the entrance recognize the motorcar immediately and open the gates without delay.
The vehicle rolls smoothly into the estate grounds.
Warm golden light spills from the tall windows of the mansion, glowing softly against the cold night like a distant refuge untouched by the horrors beyond the city.
Kael parks the motorcar and steps out.
The night air feels calmer here.
Safer.
But exhaustion has already settled heavily into his body.
He enters the mansion quietly and makes his way through the long hallways lit by chandeliers and oil lamps. The polished floors reflect fragments of warm light beneath his footsteps while the grandfather clocks throughout the corridors tick steadily in the silence.
Most of the household has already retired for the night.
Only a few servants remain awake in the distant halls.
Kael reaches his room at last.
He opens the door and steps inside.
The room greets him with familiar stillness. Curtains sway faintly near the partially opened window while the soft glow of a table lamp casts warm amber light across the wooden furniture.
Without wasting time, he walks toward his study table.
Carefully, he places everything upon it one by one.
The wrapped convex lens.
The white lotus inside its paper covering.
The pouch containing the ash and mixed soil gathered from beneath the lightning-struck tree.
And finally—
The book.
"How To Understand A Woman."
For a brief second his eyes linger on the title again.
Then he exhales quietly and looks away.
Not tonight.
He is too tired to question his own decisions anymore.
Leaving the items on the desk, Kael loosens the collar of his shirt and walks toward the bathroom.
A few minutes later, warm water pours down over him beneath the shower, steam slowly filling the room and washing away the dirt, cold, and lingering scent of the forest clinging to his clothes and skin.
The heat relaxes the stiffness in his muscles little by little.
But even beneath the falling water, fragments of the day continue surfacing in his thoughts.
The blackened tree.
The strange footsteps.
The feeling of something walking beside him within the fog.
Kael closes his eyes briefly.
Then opens them again.
After finishing his shower, he changes into fresh clothes and returns quietly to his room.
The mansion has become completely silent now.
Only the faint ticking of the clock near his bedside remains.
He walks toward the bed slowly before finally lowering himself onto the mattress. The blankets still carry warmth from the room's fireplace, soft against the cold lingering in his body.
Kael lies back against the pillow.
His gaze drifts once toward the study table across the room.
The ritual items rest there silently beneath the dim lamp light.
Waiting.
Then he closes his eyes.
And slowly, exhaustion pulls him into sleep while the cold memory of Devil's Forest lingers quietly somewhere deep within the darkness of his mind.
Morning sunlight slips quietly through the tall windows of Kael's room, thin golden rays passing between the curtains and spreading across the floorboards in long pale lines. The faint warmth reaches slowly toward the bed, disturbing the cold stillness left behind by the night.
Kael opens his eyes.
For a brief moment, he simply stares upward at the ceiling while the soft ticking of the clock beside his bed fills the silence.
Then yesterday's memories return.
The market.
Devil's Forest.
The ritual items resting on his study table only a few steps away.
He sits up slowly.
The winter morning feels calmer than expected, almost strangely ordinary compared to the thoughts lingering at the back of his mind.
After washing and dressing, Kael leaves his room and heads downstairs.
The dining hall is already prepared for breakfast.
Warm sunlight pours through the tall Edwardian windows, reflecting gently against silver utensils and porcelain dishes arranged neatly across the long table. The scent of toasted bread and fresh tea drifts softly through the room while servants move quietly in the background.
His father is already seated.
So is his sister.
The atmosphere feels peaceful, untouched by the darkness Kael walked through the previous night.
He takes his place at the table and joins them for breakfast.
Conversation remains light.
Simple.
His sister speaks occasionally about small matters around the estate while their father listens with calm amusement behind his morning newspaper. The warmth of the tea settles pleasantly against Kael's hands as he drinks, and for a short while the strange tension carried back from Devil's Forest feels distant.
Almost unreal.
After finishing breakfast, Kael excuses himself quietly and returns upstairs.
The hallway remains silent except for the distant ticking of clocks and the faint rustle of curtains stirred by the morning breeze. He reaches his room and closes the door behind him.
The ritual items still rest exactly where he left them the night before.
The pouch of ash.
The convex lens.
The white lotus.
Everything necessary.
For several seconds, Kael stands there looking at them.
Then his gaze shifts slightly.
Toward the other object resting upon the desk.
The book.
"How To Understand A Woman."
A faint pause follows.
Almost as though his own mind quietly betrays him.
Out of all things… why am I thinking about this book again?
He exhales softly before walking toward the desk.
Instead of beginning the ritual preparations, Kael picks up the book and sits down near the window where the morning sunlight falls brightest.
The chair creaks faintly beneath him.
He opens the cover.
The pages rustle softly as he turns to the first page.
And there, written neatly near the beginning of the book, are the words:
"Women are not that difficult to understand. One must simply learn to respect their feelings."
Kael stares at the sentence silently.
The room remains completely still around him.
Then slowly—
One of his brows lowers slightly.
That's it?
He glances down at the thick book in his hands.
Fifty Frynks…
For this wisdom?
A quiet disbelief settles onto his face.
For a moment he almost feels as though the author personally robbed him in broad daylight through paper and ink.
Still, despite himself, Kael turns the page anyway.
Kael leans slightly back against the chair as the morning sunlight spills across the open pages resting in his hands. Dust glimmers faintly within the golden light near the window while the quiet ticking of the clock fills the silence of the room.
His eyes move slowly across the text.
The handwriting printed upon the page is elegant, old fashioned, and strangely calm compared to the dramatic title written across the cover.
There are no diagrams.
No complicated explanations.
No hidden "secret" to understanding women.
Only words.
At the top of the next page, written in dark ink beneath a small decorative flourish, is a sentence:
"Most men claim women are difficult creatures while never once attempting to understand the storms within their hearts."
Kael's brow lowers slightly.
He continues reading.
> "A woman is not a puzzle crafted for conquest. She is a living soul shaped by memory, fear, tenderness, expectation, loneliness, and affection."
"The foolish husband asks why she changes."
"The wise husband asks what burdens her."
Kael silently turns the page.
Another passage waits beneath it.
> "There are certain days each month when a woman's body grows weary and her spirit becomes heavy, though she herself may not speak of it."
"During such times, a cruel man grows impatient."
"A good man becomes gentle."
His eyes pause there briefly.
The page continues.
> "Warm tea eases more pain than argument."
"Quiet understanding heals more wounds than pride."
"And patience is remembered far longer than flowers."
Kael stares at that final line for a second longer than necessary.
Then slowly his eyes drift toward the white lotus resting upon the study table nearby.
A faint silence settles in the room.
…Why does this book suddenly feel dangerous?
He immediately looks back down at the pages.
The next chapter begins with larger lettering.
"On Tears"
> "Many men fear a woman's anger while failing to understand her sadness."
"Anger passes."
"But sorrow buried in silence remains for years."
"Never laugh at her tears, even when you do not understand them."
"A woman who feels safe enough to cry before you has already entrusted you with a fragile part of herself."
Kael exhales quietly through his nose.
The author writes like an old priest who survived five marriages.
He turns another page.
"On Listening"
> "Most men hear only enough to answer."
"Very few listen enough to understand."
"Remember the things she says casually."
"The flower she pauses to admire."
"The food she quietly dislikes."
"The stories she repeats when she feels lonely."
"These things appear small."
"Yet affection itself is built from small things."
Kael's expression slowly becomes more complicated the further he reads.
This is not what he expected at all.
He expected manipulation.
Strategies.
Perhaps even strange advice from some eccentric scholar.
Instead—
This entire book is simply teaching men how not to behave like idiots.
The realization hits him with almost insulting clarity.
Another page turns.
"On Pride"
> "A man who demands obedience may gain silence."
"But silence is not affection."
"Fear is not love."
"And loneliness shared between two people is the coldest loneliness of all."
The room grows quiet again.
Outside the window, distant birds move across the pale winter sky while sunlight continues spilling softly through the curtains.
Kael lowers the book slightly.
For a long moment, he simply stares ahead in thought.
Then his eyes slowly move back toward the title on the cover.
"How To Understand A Woman."
A faint disbelief appears on his face again.
So this entire book is just telling men to pay attention…?
His fingers tap lightly against the cover.
Fifty Frynks…
He almost feels robbed.
And yet—
Without realizing it—
He turns the next page anyway.
Kael turns the next page with growing suspicion now, half expecting another long philosophical lecture about emotions, patience, or the spiritual meaning of remembering someone's favorite flower.
The paper rustles softly beneath his fingers.
Then his eyes stop on the very first sentence written across the top of the page.
> "Even after reading all of this, you still may fail to understand a woman."
Kael's brow twitches faintly.
He continues reading.
> "If that happens, do not despair."
"For I, the author of this very book, remained unable to fully understand my own wife even after twenty five years of marriage."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Kael stares at the page.
His expression slowly empties.
Then one thought appears clearly inside his mind.
…What?
He reads the sentence again to make sure his eyes are not deceiving him.
> "Twenty five years."
His gaze narrows slightly.
The old man wrote an entire book… only to admit defeat at the end?
Kael leans back slowly in the chair, still holding the book open before him as though it has personally betrayed him.
A faint winter breeze slips through the curtains near the window.
The room remains peaceful.
But inside Kael's mind, confusion quietly explodes.
Then why did you write the book?!
He lowers the book slightly and stares blankly at the opposite wall.
For several seconds, he says nothing.
Then another thought emerges.
Actually… why did I buy this?
The answer refuses to appear.
His eyes drift slowly back toward the page.
And somehow the author continues.
> "At best, a man learns not how to completely understand a woman…"
"But how to continue loving her even when he does not."
Kael's expression freezes again.
The ridiculousness of the previous statement collides violently with the sincerity of the next one.
This book keeps attacking and healing me at the same time.
He exhales deeply through his nose before closing the book halfway against his forehead.
The chair creaks softly beneath him.
Outside, somewhere far below the mansion windows, faint sounds of servants moving through the estate drift upward through the calm morning air.
Meanwhile Kael sits alone in his room questioning both the author's wisdom and his own financial decisions.
Fifty Frynks.
Gone.
Destroyed by an old married philosopher.