"Then, Timothy, handle the rest.""Huh? You're going to the workshop again? What about today's cricket match!""From what I saw last time, you’ve got more talent for it than I do. If you lose, I’ll revoke the vacation I gave you then, so do your best.""Booss!"Unmoved by Timothy’s wail, Edgar walked out of the executive office without a backward glance and climbed into the carriage waiting for him."We’ve arrived, Your Grace."The Geppetto Doll Workshop sat at the farthest edge of the Portigios domain. From Edgar’s office it took about an hour by carriage."Come back at sunset."Unexpectedly, the place where Edgar alighted was not Angela’s workshop but a small hut a little ways off. As soon as he stepped down, the coachman headed straight back toward town."Today it was this outfit…?"Inside the hut, Edgar took a photograph from the inner pocket of his jacket. It showed Eddy—the doll that looked exactly like Edgar.Edgar opened the door of a large wardrobe set along one wall and carefully selected garments, comparing them with Eddy’s outfit in the photo.A short while later, he had changed into the same ensemble captured in the picture, and he checked himself in the mirror, detail by detail."Perfect."The Eddy in the photograph and Edgar in the mirror were so alike it truly looked as if the doll had come to life. Smiling, satisfied, he took up the handle of the basket he’d brought from the carriage, left the hut, and strolled unhurriedly down the forest path.It was time to become "Eddy."Click, creeeeak.He’d come to this workshop so often now that he could no longer count it on one hand.Edgar de Grace, coming more than five times to a lonely house in the woods—anyone who knew him well would never believe it.This made the fifth visit as Eddy. The play he’d begun to cover his trespass had continued to this day for a very good reason.Angela, there’s a man named Edgar who wants to meet you.G—give that here. Eddy!Didn’t you make me because you like Edgar? How about meeting him once?If knocking from outside wouldn’t open a locked heart, pushing in an ally from inside was tactically effective. The problem was that even from within, Angela’s heart—armored like iron—was hard to pierce.I don’t want to meet Edgar. So please don’t bring this up again.Faced with that almost embarrassing firmness and refusal, Edgar had no choice but to retreat a step. The assault from the inside had failed; he would have to try another direction."You kept our promise—good."The moment he entered the workshop, Edgar smiled at the familiar face that met the eye: the doll dressed in the exact outfit from his photograph."Hello, Eddy. Sorry, but let’s hide for a bit."With practiced ease, Edgar lifted Eddy off the workbench. Then he took the contents from his basket, set them on the bench, and walked outside with the now-empty basket. He hopped lightly over the fence and slipped into the thick woods.Penetrating to where no one came, he set the basket amid the low shrubs, opened the lid, and carefully nestled Eddy inside."I’ll come get you before sunset."Leaving that rather gentle promise behind, Edgar closed the lid and stretched his body as if he’d been a doll become a man, then headed for the house of brown brick.What would happen today? Expectation and interest lifted the corners of his mouth; his face was bright.He didn’t realize it himself, but Edgar enjoyed his hours as Eddy more than he thought.***As always, Angela slept like a stone until late; she blinked awake, tousle-headed, ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) at a savory smell that had no business coming from her own house."...Ah!"She lay there a moment, blinking in a daze, then, struck by a sudden thought, flung off the covers and scrambled down from the bed.Tap-tap-tap.Still too drowsy to have chased sleep from her face, she hurried down the stairs and headed straight for the kitchen tucked beside them."Sleep well? You’re up a bit early today."So this really wasn’t a dream.Up through the second time, she’d believed the phenomenon was the shape her ardent wish took in sleep. But the third, the fourth, and now the fifth time seeing him today—she was slowly accepting that this was no dream."Eddy…"The kitchen, always neglected, was full of that savory smell and the heat of a bright oven.To Angela, this space felt less like a "home" and more like a "workshop."Wholly unpracticed at living, she’d never even thought to try cooking; there was no family here besides herself, either, so there was never that cozy hum peculiar to a household.It was more like she’d set up a place to sleep, added on to a workroom. Yet the simple warmth in the kitchen and the smell of food made her realize, anew, that this place was indeed a home."I was just debating whether to go wake you—perfect timing. It’s done; let’s eat.""Don’t tell me you made all this yourself, Eddy?"Angela couldn’t help but exclaim as she looked at the plate in his hand. A steaming meat pie, a fresh salad, and a bright yellow soup smelling richly of corn—an excellent spread."The fairy lent a hand. Let’s take it over there and eat right away.""W-wait. I’ll just wash my face and be right back."Realizing belatedly that she’d rushed out exactly as she’d rolled from bed, Angela flushed and retreated to the washroom."Adorable."Watching her disappear, Edgar snorted a laugh under his breath. Since she’d noticed his presence, her eyes had opened wide enough for their gold to show fully—luminous and lovely.Even if you cast beads from gold, they wouldn’t outshine them.He almost regretted that her long fringe usually hid her eyes."Is it the eyes…? Strangely, that black hair doesn’t bother me at all."Clatter, patter."Sorry, Eddy. Did I keep you waiting?"Lost briefly in thought, Edgar’s face eased into a smile as Angela returned with the same flurry with which she’d left."You were quick. Sit here.""Wow… It looks so good. Make sure to thank the fairy for me."Thinking of the Signor Hotel’s plump head chef—who had, overnight, become a fairy—Edgar shamelessly said he would."I made the salad. Thank me, too."All he’d done was pour dressing over the ingredients the chef had prepared. He’d also reheated the cooled meat pie and corn soup, but that was a stretch to call "making," so he let it pass unmentioned.Even as he kept the bare minimum of honesty, he made sure to collect credit for his part; Angela responded with genuine appreciation."No wonder it looked especially fresh. Thanks for preparing it, Eddy."It was only a prompted reply, and yet—oddly—it sounded sweeter than any thanks he’d ever received."Eat plenty. You’ve been skipping proper meals again, haven’t you?""...Did you see?"Angela speared a piece of lettuce—Edgar’s contribution—and slipped it into her mouth, then glanced up at him, already looking caught out.In the few days he’d been around her, he’d learned that Angela simply wasn’t much interested in food. With nothing to capture her attention but dolls, and with work so engrossing that mealtimes felt like a waste, she’d fallen into the habit of skipping meals over and over.With no real passion for eating, she had never even tried cooking; she ate just enough to keep from dying, and that had become her pattern. No wonder there were no signs the kitchen had been used, and no proper dining table where one might comfortably set out a meal.Which was why, even now, instead of a dining table they’d cleared her workbench and dragged over two mismatched work stools to sit."The bread and milk I left last time—what did you do with those? Don’t tell me you let them spoil and threw them out.""N-no. I ate them properly."Edgar could still feel the shock from when he’d first learned her eating habits.As a man born royal and raised a noble, eating a meal at each mealtime was as natural as breathing.But this unfeeling dollmaker—no matter how loudly her empty stomach complained—would eat only a shriveled piece of fruit and make no effort whatsoever to take a proper meal."Be honest. They went bad, didn’t they?""...Only the bread a little. But I really finished the milk in two days.""You kept it for two days…? In this heat already?""I really didn’t throw the bread out either. I cut away the bad parts and ate all the rest…""What?"He would almost have preferred to hear she’d tossed it once it spoiled. Watching Angela blink, baffled by his dismay, made Edgar’s temples throb with gloom.

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