"Okay, okay."

"If Merka is coming, I'll also come with her."

Unable to resist the pitiful look from Yorkshire, Turing reluctantly agreed while maintaining a fake smile.

"Yay, that's great!"

Yorkshire held a knife and fork in both hands, making a V sign in front of Turing, grinning like a flower.

"Don't be so exaggerated at the dinner table, Yorkshire."

"Okay--"

Curiously, Turing glanced at Mrs. Marian. It seemed a bit presumptuous for someone like Yorkshire to respond so readily to that statement, but Yorkshire appeared nonchalant.

Cutting a piece of beef steak and putting it in his mouth, Turing couldn't help but feel that there was something strange about the relationship between Yorkshire and Marian.

Rather than a mentor and apprentice, it was more like...

[Are they mother and daughter?]

Turing shook his head, feeling that he was overthinking.

But it wasn't unreasonable for him to think so.

The Montecristo family didn't have the gene for white hair.

Since the first time Turing saw Yorkshire as a child, he had always found it strange; why did the rest of their family have blonde or brown hair, but she had white hair?

Compared to other noble parents who were eager to showcase their children in front of other influential nobles, Yorkshire's parents seemed to treat her education strategy more like hiding a treasure in a golden house. They rarely allowed her to participate in various competitions, let alone appear in public.

[But her musical talent is quite good, isn't it?]

[But I've never seen her in any performance competitions.]

[Why is that?]

Turing fell into deep thought, unintentionally spending more time watching Yorkshire.

Examining her carefully, Turing noticed that Yorkshire had a very distinctive appearance that left a deep impression at first glance.

A plum blossom hairpin, earrings resembling candlelight, tassels like flowing weak water, an icy jade pendant resembling an ice sculpture, and two sets of Montecristo family emblems tightly tied to her two shoulder shawls. This snowy little elf seemed unrelated to all these elements yet perfectly fitting together.

The bizarre connections between different outfits enhanced her cold attributes with her snow-white hair, making Yorkshire seem like a piece of frost mist floating in the sky that couldn't fall, giving people a chilling feeling at first sight.

Unaware of Turing's fixed gaze, Yorkshire continued eating her food.

"But she doesn't seem as cold as she appears."

"It would be appropriate to describe her as a little snow owl."

The table was a mess, with fruit peels and bones neatly arranged on the plates. There was hardly any soup spilled outside the table. Besides Merka, everyone else present was, to varying degrees, a person of high status, familiar with this level of etiquette.

Everyone finished their meal and the conversation was almost over.

"Since Yorkshire also wants to meet Turing, how about Merka comes for a three-hour lesson every month on even-numbered days? Starting at three o'clock in the afternoon."

"That also happens to coincide with Yorkshire's schedule."

Merka nodded, of course she had no reason to refuse. Turing also agreed to this arrangement.

After finishing dinner, Turing and Merka returned home with little enthusiasm. Along the way, they stopped by a clothing store and supermarket to purchase some daily necessities and clothing.

Looking at the Christ Mountain cigars in the store, Turing pushed the shopping cart and couldn't help but be reminded of someone. Unable to resist the feeling of longing, Turing decided to buy a box.

Turing vaguely remembered that this was Elizabeth's favorite brand, and it was also the main cigar brand of the Koshiba family.

The weather was unusually cold, as winter had arrived. The seasonal change brought cold air that was sometimes colder than the actual snow and ice.

Back at home, Turing sat on the rooftop of the villa, gazing at the crescent moon sliced by the forest stream. A sense of long-lost and detached loneliness returned to Turing's body and soul.

Turing waved their finger, conjuring a small flame on their fingertip. Using their other hand, Turing crushed the end of the cigar and lit it.

Watching the thin blue smoke rise from the end of the cigar, Turing silently took a puff. The long-lost feeling of loss seemed to penetrate their bones like a fever-induced headache, and Turing regained that familiar, desolate sensation from the past.

Turing remained silent, knowing why they felt this way.

They had severed ties with the past, abandoning everything about their former self.

It wasn't just their own memories that they severed, but also the memories of loved ones.

Elizabeth, Mostima, Theresa, even the Shepherd.

Together, they shaped Turing's personality and led to the excessively happy life Turing now lived.

Yet, in order to avoid guilt, Turing subconsciously forgot about them—

Just like what their own mother had done to them.

People tend to purposefully forget, do you remember?

Turing was truly afraid that one day they would completely forget about them because their change was built upon the foundation of severing their childhood.

They could not accept their childhood, just as they could not accept their past male identity.

If they were to accept it... if they were to accept it...

They would be consumed by an endless cycle of self-doubt, unable to fully enjoy the blissful life shared with Merka.

Turing sighed, put aside the cigar, and gently blew out a milky-white cloud of smoke.

The faint scent of the smoke resembled Elizabeth's fragrance.

It penetrated deep into their lungs, causing a piercing pain.