Mason seemed different from usual, and my heart raced a bit faster.

That evening, he drove me to a beach.

The sand was pristine and fine, and about three hundred meters from the shoreline stood a garden full of blooming flowers, with several modern-style buildings scattered throughout.

Mason led me into the garden, which wasn't the luxurious seaside guesthouse I had imagined but rather his own home.

Dinner wasn't a pre-arranged feast either, but something Mason had cooked himself.

I tried to help, but he firmly declined my offer three times. In the end, I could only sit at the dining table, watching his busy silhouette, and the only word...