Whenever Frigga felt dejected, she loved to retreat alone into the quiet, deserted library, wandering among yellowed pages and the scent of ink, letting the words smooth the creases of her troubled heart. But recently, her secret garden has welcomed an uninvited guest—this new butler, holding her most cherished poetry collection. His slender fingers brushed over the passages she repeatedly savored, and familiar verses flowed from his lips, causing her heart to tremble like startled pages.

From then on, in the dew-heavy corridors of the night, two candles stood side by side, their overlapping shadows clinging inseparably to the ancient bookshelves...