188 What’s Love Got To Do With It

A/N: It’s still May 31, 2021 in BC, aka Pacific Standard Time, so yay, I kept my word and cranked out the second TE chapter in a month! (for the rest of the world – GO ME! I still kept my NYE resolution for monthly updates!) Anywhore, as Gumshoe would say….whoooooop! 😊

Took a little break from all the blood and gore from the last chapter to give some spotlight to a few characters we’ve not seen in a little while! Who’s up for some romance? ❤

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“Someday you will be faced with the reality of loss. And as life goes on, days rolling into nights, it will become clear that you never really stop missing someone special who’s gone, you just learn to live around the gaping hole of their absence. When you lose someone you can’t imagine living without, your heart breaks wide open, and the bad news is you never completely get over the loss. You will never forget them. However, in a backwards way, this is also the good news. They will live on in the warmth of your broken heart that doesn’t fully heal back up, and you will continue to grow and experience life, even with your wound. It’s like badly breaking an ankle that never heals perfectly, and that still hurts when you dance, but you dance anyway with a slight limp, and this limp just adds to the depth of your performance and the authenticity of your character. The people you lose remain a part of you. Remember them and always cherish the good moments spent with them.”

Once Upon A Time
A Man Who Loved A Woman…

Against my own intentions, against the resistance in my heart, I found myself helplessly entangled in the tendrils of ador. It was a battle I never wished to wage, for I had sworn off such entanglements. Yet, against my will, I succumbed. It was akin to marching onto a battlefield, where every part of me was forever transformed. Just as a soldier returns from war a different person from whence he came, I, too, emerged from the depths of love forever changed.

The memories danced forth in fleeting reverie. Gleaming tides, ablaze like a sunset’s ember, encircled her ethereal countenance, crafted in porcelain grace. Nestled within the depths of her cocoa-tinged gaze, mahogany jewels sparkled, their allure unmistakable. A shimmering symphony of mirth and mischief, forever ensconced in those lively orbs, forever alight.

Everybody loves the things you do
From the way you talk to the way you move
Everybody here is watching you
‘Cause you feel like home
You’re like a dream come true

She was a breathtaking marvel, transcending the glossy pages of magazines. Her beauty emanated from the depths of her being, a manifestation of her profound thoughts. Her allure radiated through the twinkling cosmos of her eyes, aglow with passion as she conversed about her cherished passions. Her charm lay in her capacity to implant joy in hearts, even amid her own melancholy. No, her allure did not rest on a fleeting visage, for her true beauty delved into the profound recesses of her soul. She was a resplendent masterpiece, an exquisite tapestry woven from the fabric of her essence.

Etched forever in his mind was the resonance of her laughter, resounding with such fervor that she tumbled from the bed in pure delight. The instance she shed tears, moved by a Christmas advertisement on the flickering screen, lingered vividly in his thoughts. The first gift she bestowed upon him, a petite music box from Venice, remained eternally cherished in his recollections. The depths of her eyes, brimming with eager anticipation, transformed into a serene release upon hearing his heartfelt assurance of adoration for the present.

In his reminiscence, he could feel the silkiness of her drenched locks as he gently brushed them away from her countenance on that rainy homecoming. Mascara streaks adorned both cheeks, yet her laughter danced through the air, her playful jest likening herself to a drenched panda. Undeterred, he bent down and pressed his lips to hers, disregarding the dampness seeping into his professional attire, for in his perception, she exuded the fragrance of blossoms and sunlit meadows. She was a radiant luminary, the embodiment of sunshine itself, casting its radiant glow upon his world.

He still remembered her laugh.

That tinkling sound, like a celestial melody, resonates within the chambers of my soul. It was in the warmth of July, amidst a friend’s lively barbecue, that our destinies intertwined. Clad in a white sundress, adorned with a tapestry of red roses, she danced joyfully with bare feet, reveling in the company of gleeful children. From that very instant, I was bewitched, utterly smitten by her spellbinding presence. Though the sands of time have cascaded like an endless tide, there isn’t a solitary day that passes without her occupying the forefront of my thoughts. She remains an irreplaceable muse, forever woven into the very fabric of my existence.

But if by chance you’re here alone
Can I have a moment before I go?
‘Cause I’ve been by myself all night long
Hoping you’re someone I want to know

Over time, her heart intertwined with his, reciprocating the blossoming love that enveloped them both. She became his guiding light, revealing the essence of living through her fervor and the melodious cadence of her laughter. In turn, he became her harbinger of love, illuminating the depths of her being with his tender care.

Love, akin to a potent opiate, unfurled its seductive allure. At first, it delivered the euphoria of surrender, engulfing them in its enchanting embrace. Each passing day kindled a desire for more, an addictive yearning that danced upon the edges of their consciousness. In those initial moments, they believed they still possessed control, delighting in the sensation while longing for a deeper connection. Thoughts of their beloved would linger for mere minutes, overshadowed by the hours that slipped away.

She was not only captivating in her allure but also adorned with intelligence. A connoisseur of science, her passion was ignited by the realm of physics. Beauty entwined effortlessly with intellect, a rare fusion that could satiate any man’s desires, easily making her the woman of his dreams.

Perhaps it was that pedantry side of her which allowed her the ability to still be reasonable; detached at times, even in matters of the heart. This facet of her character enabled her to navigate the complexities of emotions with a discerning eye, balancing the fires of passion with cool rationality.

Her reluctance to divulge the details of her life before their union, or any previous amorous entanglements, became increasingly apparent. Like the flick of a horse’s tail warding off bothersome flies, she effortlessly dismissed his inquiries, yet devoid of any deceit or hidden motives.

“No one held significance until you,” she would respond, her gaze radiating adoration. “And even if there were others, they now reside securely in the recesses of my mind, like a sealed box of memories tucked away in the depths of a forgotten closet.”

Teasingly, he would jest, “So, no secret longing for the one that slipped away, trapped within that concealed box?”

Her reply came with unwavering assurance, “No, for they belong to the past. They hold no sway over the present.” Her words carried a simplicity that resonated deeply. “And that is precisely where they should remain.”

In stark contrast, he harbored no desire to erase their shared moments from his memory. Those days had constituted the pinnacle of his existence, a time when they, like infatuated fledglings, reveled in an all-consuming passion, immersed in a tranquil ecstasy unlike any they had ever known. Life had flourished with a vibrant tapestry of roses and sunbeams during those enchanting days.

And it was during those times he’d remember that floral frock.

You looked like a movie
You sounded like a song
My God, this reminds me
Of when we were young

Sometime later, amidst a balmy summer evening, he mustered the words, “I adored that dress.”

“Surely, thou jest?” she responded, her laughter rippling through the air in that distinct, endearing manner of hers. “That old thing? I’ve had it for ages!”

“Yes, even in that ‘old thing,’ I thought you were the most enchanting vision I had ever beheld,” he confessed, his voice laced with sincerity.

The following week, she donned the beloved apparel, a garment that had languished untouched for a year, for his birthday celebration. As the fabric gracefully adorned her figure, a radiant joy illuminated her countenance, casting an eternal glow that he couldn’t help but immerse himself in. At that moment, his heart overflowed with indescribable love for her, for she had always possessed the power to elicit such pure bliss within him.

Let me photograph you in this light
In case it is the last time
That we might be exactly like we were
Before we realized
We were sad of getting old
It made us restless
It was just like a movie
It was just like a song

It was at those moments which made him even more nostalgic, now that she was gone. The floral dress and her melodic laughter. The way that he’d loved her.

In contrast, he marveled at her ability to effortlessly let go of long-ago memories, leaving them behind like fading footprints in the sand.

“The past is but a chapter closed,” she would affirm, her focus firmly fixed on their present and future together.

Now, she belonged to his past. The only distinction was that he still carried her within his thoughts. At times, he longed to possess her enviable skill of storing away the bittersweet memories, safeguarding them like a box atop a closet shelf.

Someday, the fragrance of her scarf would fade away, no longer carrying her essence. The scarf would lose its connection to her, and he would no longer remember the sound of her voice. The memories of her seeking warmth in his embrace on cold nights would dissipate, along with the echoes of her laughter and the shared jokes they once reveled in. One day, his arms would forget the sensation of holding her, and his hands would no longer recall the touch of hers intertwined with his own. The warmth of his chest, where her head once found solace, would become a distant memory. He would learn to battle his inner demons, armed with his swords, and he would cease calling out for her in his slumber.

As he made his way to the Strand Palace, the scent of blooming flowers filled the air, evoking another wave of poignant remembrances. July always held a special poignancy, triggering emotions with even the slightest stimuli. In this instance, the unmistakable fragrance of roses adorning the outdoor café tables became the catalyst for a fresh surge of melancholy, enveloping him as he passed by.

It’s hard to admit that
Everything just takes me back
To when you were there
To when you were there
And a part of me keeps holding on
Just in case it hasn’t gone

These memories relentlessly tormented the depths of his soul, refusing to release their grip. They haunted him, relentless monsters that he couldn’t escape or hide from. Each reminder of his time with his beloved, every trace of their shared past, became a chilling reminder of the memories that clung to him ceaselessly.

He had endured pain in the past, and weathered storms that tested his spirit. But nothing compared to this particular level of all-encompassing agony. These reminders were like sharp needles, pricking his skin, penetrating his very being. No matter how desperately he longed to shout or fight back, he was left defenseless, forced to endure the relentless onslaught of images flashing through his mind, each one depicting the face of his beloved in an unending cycle of anguish.

And yet, he clung to a sliver of hope, whispering to himself, “One day, the sting in my eyes will cease whenever your name is mentioned. I will no longer search for you in every coffee shop, along every street. Everything around me will not trigger thoughts of you—benches, parks, sunny days. The pain of emptiness, silence, and loss will no longer tear at me as it does now. I will find a way to carry on living.”

He closed his eyes, seeking respite from the ache that gnawed at his chest. But today was not the day he could escape the clutches of these memories. They remained his most formidable adversary, threatening to consume him entirely.

“Someday.” He blinked his stinging eyelids. “Someday, I will be able to remember you without feeling like a vital part of me is missing. I will find the strength to continue my journey through life.”

He shut his eyes against the pang in his chest as he succumbed to the weight of his grief.

But today is not that day.

Professor Layton and Flora Reinhold-Layton
London
July 20, 2026

The red roses planted in the front garden of his cottage had swayed in the breeze that morning as he’d headed out with Flora into the city to meet their American mates.

The nostalgic Professor had been so caught up in his own reverie while absently veering the Laytonmobile in and out of the bustling traffic en route to Pearl and Maya’s hotel. Therefore, he hadn’t been able to discern the cause of his daughter’s abrupt, high-pitched shriek until it pierced the tiny car at an ear-splitting decibel.

“Aaahhh! Daddy! Stop the car! Stop this instant!”

“Gor Blimey!” Layton gasped, narrowly averting a split-second, rear-end collision with the van ahead of him as he slammed on the brakes, resulting in a loud series of indignant, blaring horns from the vehicles behind him. “What is it, love? Is somebody hurt?”

“Crikey Moses! I can’t believe it! Could it really be?” The teenager was positively bubbling with excitement and already unbuckling her seatbelt. “Daddy, you must pull over right away! You won’t believe who I just saw!”

Although he was a normally mild-mannered man and slow to anger, he couldn’t help being somewhat vexed at his child. Her dramatics had nearly caused a shambles over sweet Fanny Adams, and there hadn’t even been an injured person or animal that needed tending to! More than likely, the girl reckoned she’d spotted a favorite celebrity, and was eager to pounce upon them for an autograph, hence the unexpected command to halt the vehicle.

However, that was easier said than done, since they were currently stuck in boot-to-boot morning road congestion! The car horns were still aggressively blaring at him for his impromptu halt!

AAHT! AAHHT! BLOOOOT!

“I’m afraid there is no way I’ll be able to safely make it across all these lanes to fulfill your request, dear girl.” His voice was remarkably even, despite the erratic thumping of his heart that her sudden shrieking had caused. “At this rate, to get to the Strand Palace, I shall have to turn down at the next block or so, then try to find street parking…”

“No worries!” Undaunted, the girl flung open the door and was already leaping out of the car. “I’ll just leg it over, and you can meet me there! Drive safely, Daddy! Toodle pip!”

“Flora, wait!” Even in heeled sandals and a dress, Flora bore the reflexes of a cat and had already sprung from the automobile by the time the startled Layton was able to register what was happening “Where in the world are you chivvying off to? How am I to know where there is?!”

BEEP! BEEP!

With a defeated sigh, the Professor had no choice but to take heed to the angry honking and resume rolling forward while shaking his head at the child’s unpredictable antics. Although he’d had almost 10 years to get used to the lively girl’s shenanigans, in the case of Flora Reinhold-Layton, every day in fatherhood was a new, unanticipated adventure!

He wasn’t sure how long had passed by the time he was finally able to find parking – it had actually been another half dozen blocks down before he had finally been able to locate an empty spot!

Blast! I’m running behind schedule to meet the two gents already, but I must at least come to say hello to Pearl and Maya, as they’re also our guests – it’s the gentlemanly thing to do! I only hope the fellows aren’t too cross with me for being tardy. Mr. Wright is normally pretty easy, but I know Mr. Edgeworth can be a bit of a stickler about these things and might be a tad cheesed off!

Lateness aside, the other issue was that he had no inkling where the deuce the teen had run off to! This meant that hunting down his wayward child would now have to take top precedence, even before he could play the role of charming host to any of the American visitors.

The question was, where could the bloomin’ chit have gone?

Fortunately, he wasn’t left wondering for very long, as the text from Maya, indicating Flora had safely joined her and Pearl at their hotel café, came to his cell just as he was exiting his car.

Well, that puzzle came to a solution in record time! But surely Flora couldn’t have been all chuffed to bits at the idea of meeting with the Fey cousins just now – she saw them only last night! So what could have possibly gotten her so primed to bite her arm off?

His former apprentice was seated beside his girlfriend when he finally arrived to meet his mates, and across the table, with their backs towards him, were Maya and an unknown female, who was wearing a large sunhat.

“What?” The confused Luke was asking Pearl as the Professor advanced upon them, still unnoticed. “How did we go about acquiring a new troop member?”

“Long story. I’ll explain later. Let me pour your favored hot beverage in the meantime, Oasis Berry.”

Layton couldn’t help but smile to himself that the dulcet spirit medium was already so well acquainted with her beau’s favorite tea blend.

“Is there any way to get a condensed version, so I can cease worrying about my daughter’s whereabouts?” He chuckled from his standing position behind them. “Considering Maya just texted me that Flora was here at the café with you lot, yet now is nowhere to be found?”

“Although she might guilty of scaring the dickens out of you by scurrying through traffic, Flora is not at fault for being otherwise engaged at the moment!” The stranger with the lilting German intonation was already turning around to face him as she let out a peal of silvery laughter. “You see, the unsuspecting girl was dragged off on an impulsive shoe-shopping expedition …”

Look what you’re doing to me
I’m utterly at your whim
All of my defenses down

Your camera looks through me
With its X-ray vision
And all systems run aground

All I can manage to push from my lips
Is a stream of absurdities
Every word I intended to speak
Winds up locked in a circuitry

No way to control it
It’s totally automatic
Whenever you’re around

I’m walking blindfolded
Completely automatic
All of my systems are down
Down, down, down
Automatic (automatic)
Automatic (automatic)

What is this madness
That makes my motor run
And my legs too weak to stand
I go from sadness to exhilaration
Like a robot at your command

My hands perspire
And shake like a leaf
Up and down goes my temperature
I summon doctors to get some relief
But they tell me there is no cure
They tell me

No way to control it
It’s totally automatic
Whenever you’re around

I’m walking blindfolded
Completely automatic
All of my systems are down
Down, down, down
Automatic (automatic)
Automatic (automatic)

Professor Layton and Katharina Rudolf
Strand Palace Hotel
Sacred Café, London
July 20, 2026

The rest of her words trailed off as her eyes met his for the first time, but it wouldn’t have mattered; the dumbfounded Layton would have been oblivious to anything she would have uttered after that.

Because he was utterly, hopelessly transfixed upon that laugh. That captivating, melodious resonance, one of complete abandonment and delight; head thrown back slightly to reveal the slender column of a graceful, swanlike neck…

He had only known one other lady in his whole life who laughed in such a carefree, yet infectious manner.

His reaction was utter lunacy; of this, he was dimly aware. The small, rational part of his mind was internally screaming at him that this was not a doppelgänger situation, nor an uncanny attempt at reincarnation. This beauty, based on the stray wisps of moonbeam hair escaping her wide-brimmed hat was not even a redhead, but a blonde!

A beauteous German – not British – blonde, one with a tinkly laugh that was so eerily similar to the one belonging to the woman of his dreams, it made him freeze dead in his tracks. He was more taken aback by this detail than even the fact that she was wearing a white ensemble with a red rose pattern. He was grateful that her attire, at least, was in the form of a jumpsuit – Layton didn’t know what he would have done if she’d been wearing that oh-so-memorable print as any sort of dress!

As the stranger’s eyes met his for the first time, the same logical part of his brain tried to persuade him to stop acting as mad as a hatter. In all certainty, this unknown enchantress was assuredly spoken for. Moreover, based on her youthful appearance, she was also far too young for a middle-aged man such as him; she looked to be about Maya’s age, which meant he was almost old enough to be her father! On top of that, not only did she not even remotely bear the same tresses as his lost love, but she didn’t share Claire’s twinkling dark eyes, either.

The two women looked nothing alike, so it shouldn’t have felt like such a surreal sense of déjà vu.

So then why did he feel as though he’d catapulted 20 years back into the past, which was the last time he’d had such a queer reaction to a lady of any sort?

Her eyes, a hue of gray – they defy simple description. Mere words fail to capture their true essence. Instead, they possess a crystalline clarity, each detail within her irises rendered with precision. Like an enigmatic work of art, her eyes bewilder all who gaze upon them, leaving them perplexed, unable to fully grasp their magnificence. Gray, but not a dull shade. They shimmer like silver meeting the vibrant rays of the sun. It’s as if a hatch within those captivating orbs has opened, revealing a sparkling brilliance akin to glistening snow or a resplendent diamond. This is the kind of gray that women yearn for, wishing it would grace their own locks. Yet, no matter how eloquent one may strive to be in describing them, true justice eludes the beholder. How can words adequately pay tribute to a masterpiece?

Those spell-binding orbs were now peering intently his, a myriad of emotions flashing through them for several heart-stopping moments; both wholly oblivious to the others present, or that neither had spoken a word of introduction or greeting this entire time.

It was Maya who finally broke the silence.

“Er, Professor Layton, may I introduce you to Dr. Katharina Rudolf, who is here for both business and pleasure purposes. She is the sister of both Miles and my friend, Franziska Von Karma.”

Katharina flushed slightly and was the first to drop her gaze away from his, courteously gesturing to the vacant chair beside her own as she proffered him a cup of the newly arrived teapot of his favorite tea blend, Belle Classic.

His trance-like state now broken, Layton stiffly vetoed the offer and focused his attention on the others at the table. He needed to ensure he didn’t cast as much as a sideways glance at the comely psychologist – he feared if he did so the second time, he would never be able to look away again.

He also didn’t trust himself to hold any sort of hot beverage in what he was sure to be his shaking hands!

His curious reaction to the good doctor made no sense whatsoever. He was beyond disgusted with himself for even his slightest moment of fancy towards a woman so many years his junior, who was probably vacationing there with the lucky bloke who was her husband!

How could my fickle heart and mind forsake me and Claire in such a manner? And today of all days!

The astute Professor was well aware by the quizzical expressions on everyone’s faces that they were baffled by his inexplicable behavior, but it couldn’t be helped. All he could do was keep this visit as short and sweet as possible and firm up dinner plans with the Americans. Then, he would politely excuse himself as soon as opportunity allowed, and be on his merry way, confident and content with the knowledge that he would never need to set eyes on Dr. Katharina Rudolf, ever again!

The tourists had been recommended to The Ritz by his daughter. It was a preferred restaurant of his, as well. Plus, the live band music would most certainly be a perfect diversion from his latest disrupting thoughts, which would plague him well into the evening.

“My daughter made a brilliant choice.” Layton nodded approvingly. “I’ll give them a bell on my way back to the car. At that late a mealtime, I’m positive even a swank establishment like theirs will have no difficulties accommodating a large party of seven.”

“Um, actually, it’ll be for nine, Professor,” Pearl corrected him, eyeing him fretfully, as though anticipating a negative response. Clearly, his strange manner had made the poor girl anxious that he would snub any additions at the dinner table. “Miss Katharina will be joining us tonight, along with –”

Her husband or lover. Just as I’d thought. What did you expect, Hershel? That the first woman to turn your head for the first time in a score would be unattached because she was saving herself for you?

It was one thing to correctly assume that the breathtaking psychologist was off the market – how could such a vision not be? – but having the idea confirmed still stung. Also, he had been mentally preparing, after he left the premises, to never lay eyes on the blonde for the rest of his life… yet was now being informed he’d have to share a dinner table with the woman that very night!

The very notion left a most unsettling sensation in the pit of his stomach.

“Her traveling companion,” Layton finished stiffly, still not turning his head to acknowledge Katharina. “Yes, of course. How nice – the more the merrier, I always say. I shall let the steward know about our larger-than-usual party when I ring to book the table.”

The only thing worse than having to see Dr. Rudolf again is the realization that I’ll also have to endure tonight’s meal in the presence of whatever propitious bugger she’s with for the duration of the whole evening!

The gnawing sensation in his gut was gradually worsening, and he immediately regretted declining the soothing Belle Classic. However, there was no way he could request a cup now – not without addressing Katharina to pass the teapot, which would also require looking at her one more time!

He had no other option but to stare straight ahead at his former apprentice and request a cup of Oasis Berry instead. Luke’s favored tea had always been a bit too saccharine for his liking, but it was still better than nothing. Right now, he just needed something to wet his throat, which, along with his mouth, had gone dry the minute he had laid eyes on Maya’s new friend.

The sudden shrill ringing of his mobile was a welcome distraction.

The polite thing to do, since he was in the presence of a mixed company, would be to ignore the caller and then ring them back later. Or, at the very least, excuse himself from the table before answering. However, Katharina’s perturbing presence had him so rattled that the gentleman ended up discarding all social convention and took the call right there at the table.

The caller was Ridelle Mystere at the Old Bailey. She and Jean, fortunately, had taken over for him as the American men’s tour guides at the courthouse, and had stumbled across a most fascinating discovery! It seemed as though Phoenix Wright possibly shared ancestry with one of England’s first and most legendary foreign defense attorneys from the Victorian period – Ryūnosuke Naruhodō!

“Professor, all one has to do is take a butcher’s at the painting to see the unmistakable family resemblance, even though Mr. Wright is too much a bloody prat to see it for himself!” Ridelle was telling him excitedly. “Since then, Jean has been having a shufti through the old archives and I’ve been calling around to see if the Japanese lawyer happened to have left behind any sort of telltale evidence to confirm our theory!”

“That sounds absolutely fascinating,” Layton replied as the familiar elation that stemmed from the prospect of solving an intricate mystery began to flood through him. The heaven-descended deviation he’d so fervently needed that day had just fallen into his lap right then and there, and it couldn’t have come at a better time! “Albeit it also appears to be quite the puzzle!”

“Professor, it’s me, Jean!” The other lass cut in, sounding just as enthused as her colleague. “Actually, we just may have already stumbled upon something, but we would need your influence to be allowed full access to the actual historical artifact. Otherwise, it’s impossible to confirm if our suspicions are correct about this being an ancestral journal. The only drawback is that based on the microfilm images, none of the scrawlings were written in English, but appears to be in hiragana, romaji, kanji, and/or katakana. However, since we neither of us can read Japanese, it would be impossible to know where to even begin trying to translate it ourselves, no matter how much we gen up!”

Despite knowing what a momentous task this would be in unraveling this latest cryptic scenario, the Englishman had never been one to shy away from a challenge. After all, at the recent behest of Phoenix, had Layton not been wildly successful, after scouring the French catacombs, at tracing his adopted daughter’s ancestral spagyric roots? Moreover, he’d secured irrefutable proof that the Gramaryes were descended from a long line of alchemists!

“This shall require some critical thinking, but fret not, as every puzzle has a solution. I very much wish to be a part of this, Jean. I shall get us in touch with a reliable translator to help decipher the documentation once I peruse it myself.”

“That would be ace!” Jean crowed, while the jaunty Ridelle could be heard cheering “mutt’s nuts!” in the background. “Surely Mr. Wright would be overjoyed to discover more about his mysterious Eastern roots! When can we expect to see you, Professor?”

“Right away.” The Professor tried not to let his relief for the excuse of a swift exit from his current uncomfortable situation be overly evident, although he couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice at the idea of having a new secret project. “I’m downtown right now, and there’s still traffic, but I should be there within the hour.”

“Brilliant! See you soon, Professor!”

As Layton rang off, he pushed his barely touched teacup aside and smiled faintly at his friends.

“That was Ridelle Mystere from the Old Bailey. There’s something that requires my assistance at the courthouse. Unfortunately, I must be off now.”

He brushed aside Luke’s pleas to prolong his stay as courteously as he could, then Layton tipped his hat and gave a slight bow towards Katharina, while profoundly keeping his eyes diverted.

“Dr. Rudolf, it was a pleasure meeting you. I look forward to seeing you at dinner. Cheers.”

It was the first lie the British gentleman had spoken aloud in a very, very long time.

You must understand though the touch of your hand
Makes my pulse react
That it’s only the thrill of boy meeting girl
Opposites attract
It’s physical
Only logical
You must try to ignore that it means more than that ooo

What’s love got to do, got to do with it
What’s love but a second-hand emotion
What’s love got to do, got to do with it
Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken

It may seem to you that I’m acting confused
When you’re close to me
If I tend to look dazed I’ve read it someplace
I’ve got cause to be
There’s a name for it
There’s a phrase that fits
But whatever the reason you do it for me ooo

What’s love got to do, got to do with it
What’s love but a second-hand emotion
What’s love got to do, got to do with it
Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken

I’ve been taking on a new direction
But I have to say
I’ve been thinking about my own protection
It scares me to feel this way oh oh-oh

What’s love got to do, got to do with it
What’s love but a second-hand emotion
What’s love got to do, got to do with it
Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken

What’s love got to do, got to do with it
What’s love but a sweet old fashioned notion
What’s love got to do, got to do with it
Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken

(What’s love got to do) ooh got to do with it
(What’s love but a second-hand emotion)
What’s love got to do, got to do with it
Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken
(What’s love got to do with it) got to do with it
(What’s love)

Professor Layton and Katharina Rudolf
The Ritz Hotel Lobby, London
July 20, 2026

Miles had opted to duck out early to secure a good night’s sleep in preparation for the enlivening activities the Professor had planned for him and Phoenix the following day – a game of polo followed by tea at Buckingham Palace.

As the evening went on, it appeared that since Katharina and her voyaging companion were already beyond fashionably late for dinner that night, they were unlikely to be joining them, so Layton allowed himself to relax and enjoy the company of his friends.

Perhaps Dr. Rudolf and her partner chose to dine alone tonight? He idly thought to himself, contemplating whether or not he was more relieved or disappointed by this outcome as he simultaneously exercised his patience whilst attempting to explain the rules of polo to a gormless Phoenix.

“So, the game’s similar to that new-age stuff then?” The spiky-haired man scratched the back of his neck. “All about your chakras?”

“Your chukka, Mr. Wright, not chakra,” the Professor explained good-naturedly, with a miraculously straight face. “A polo match is either 4 or 6 or 8 chukkas, depending on the match, players, and horses available. In a match, you have either 2 or 3 players in a team and 1 or 2 umpires. A chukka is 7 minutes, and the interval between chukkas is 3 minutes.”

“Gotcha.” Phoenix appeared a tad embarrassed for only about a split second at being such an ignoramus, then shrugged and flashed a disarming grin. “I’m sure I can figure it out! Worst case scenario – I’ll just do what I do best … bluff my way through it!”

Maya suddenly appeared back at the table – Layton hadn’t even noticed that she’d slipped away, with a very contrite-looking Katharina in tow.

“Let’s order some nosh guys!” The psychic announced cheerily. “Look who I just bumped into!”

The German woman discreetly slipped into her seat across from Phoenix and the Englishman and shyly murmured apologies for her tardiness.

The gentleman busied himself by pretending to be fascinated by the contents of his menu. At the same time, he subtly peeked up under the brim of his top hat at the psychologist as she greeted the others at the table with a genuinely amiable and gracious manner that made her impossible not to like. He knew it was ridiculous to keep comparing her to Claire, as despite looking downright stunning in the formfitting dress she was presently wearing, it was still a much more avant-garde fashion choice than anything his conservative swain would have ever worn. Nevertheless, he still couldn’t help thinking that she encompassed a lot of the qualities he had so loved about the redhead.

Despite looking nothing alike, there was something about Katharina’s kindness and her pluck that struck him as very similar to the departed scientist – endearingly so. She positively radiated a natural, affable air to her, along with an irresistible sense of humor, which was exemplified by her amusement in Phoenix’s gobsmacked reaction at realizing just how identical the doctor was to her younger sibling.

“Franziska?!” The pianist croaked when he finally found his voice. “No – wait – your hair’s the wrong color, plus, you’re not wearing a whip! But how? Who – Maya, this is the new friend you were talking about earlier?!”

His girlfriend was too busy snickering maniacally at his dramatic outburst to answer properly, so Katharina took pity on the flabbergasted man and extended her hand, which he shook dumbly.

“Hallo.” The blonde could barely contain her mirth as she addressed the pole-axed card shark. “While I seem to be suffering from a case of mistaken identity recently, no, I am not Franziska, but her Schwester, Katharina Rudolf. We may not have been introduced yet, but I recognize you from Maya’s famous serenade video. You must be Phoenix Wright.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He blinked, overcome with awe by the doctor’s remarkable resemblance to his best friend’s tempestuous ex. “Wow! What are the odds of my girlfriend running into you here in England of all places? Small world, huh?”

“So, it would seem. Although considering what a delight Maya and her company have turned out to be, I would dare say it was the best case of serendipity I have ever encountered,” Katharina returned pleasantly, then swiveled her field of vision until it came upon the completely mute top-hatted man sitting beside the poker champ. In a somewhat less relaxed manner now, she murmured a polite salutation in response to Layton’s stilted greeting.

Everyone began perusing their leather-bound food listings. The doctor glimpsed down at the small lettering for only a brief second, before rummaging into her purse and pulling out a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. As she slipped them on and resumed the study of the menu, she spotted the Feys’ surprised expressions and let out that delightfully tinkly laugh, which was starting to sound like music to his ears.

“These are a definite telltale sign of my true age, are they not? However, they are necessary for places as dimly lit as this,” she explained with visible merriment. “I could attempt to squint at the fine print, but then I would risk ordering something I cannot stomach, for the sole purpose of vanity! At least I can see clearly now!”

Her mellifluous German accent made the innocuous word seem like a misnomer, one that made Layton jolt abruptly, as if zapped by a thousand electric volts.

Because rather than “clearly,” it’d sounded as though the good doctor had instead said: “Claire Lee.”

As in Claire Lee Foley.

His dearly departed sweetheart of yesteryear.

He’d been so busy trying to shrewdly ogle the newly spectacled blonde that he nearly dropped his menu into the open candle flame in front of him, barely catching it in the nick of time to avert disaster, but not before Maya witnessed his near accident and shot him a completely indiscreet, knowing smirk.

The Englishman felt as though he were going slightly mad, for entirely against his own volition, it wasn’t Katharina, but he who’d been clearly seeing the jarring reminders of Claire. From the moment he’d laid his hapless sights on the alluring psychologist, her every move and action had unwittingly made him draw countless parallels between herself and the ghost of his past.

It was all just too surreal for words.

Her slight-deprecating remark about her spectacles made him realize that the humble psychologist was not only self-conscious about them but possessed a swanlike modesty that was positively beguiling, especially for a woman of such pulchritude.

“Danke for the lovely compliments, both of you,” Katharina replied bashfully in response to the effusive praises the two cousins had paid to her appearance, while entirely unaware of how the British man’s unblinking orbs remained fixated upon her. “This is music to meine ears, as unfortunately, I grew up during the era where the widespread belief was that men don’t make passes at ladies who wear glasses.”

She was making a move to take the glasses off and slip them back into her evening bag when the silent Layton’s next words halted her, mid-action.

He didn’t want her to take off her glasses … yet at the same time, he desperately did wish she would do just that!

It was a conundrum, unlike anything he had ever experienced. As fetching as Katharina still appeared with the spectacles on, they also offered a slight reprieve in that they marginally helped mask the full impact of her hypnotic silver orbs. Simultaneously, on the flip side, they were the sole thing she physically bore in common with Claire, right down to the geometric shape and wire-rim design. All in all, it made looking at her even more of an anguishing, bittersweet experience, and he couldn’t decide which would cause less havoc on his senses!

“Is the lingering stigma of unappreciative gentlemen what’s making you feel the need to remove your spectacles, Dr. Rudolf?” Layton averted his eyes so they weren’t quite directed at the blonde, even though he was addressing her. “Or do you honestly not require their use anymore?”

“Thus far in my life, they are only a sporadic necessary evil, Professor.” Katharina dropped the glasses back into their case and put them back into her clutch, once again allowing her spellbinding orbs to be in full effect. “I only require them for reading.”

“I see.” He cleared his throat and resumed his rapt fascination with his menu. “Very well. I wished to ensure it wasn’t at all a case of the former, because, in all actuality, they are not unflattering in the least.”

She modestly dropped her gaze, unsure of how to respond to this, while the Feys exchanged a meaningful look, both thinking the same thing: OK, seriously…What the heck is the deal with Professor Layton?!

“That’s right, Professor, let’s just keep those glasses on her, shall we?” Maya couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease her friend for his mystifyingly bizarre conduct. “Because then she’ll no longer be the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen!”

The Professor felt his face grow warm at this irrefutable observation and went back to burying his head in his menu. He was so flustered that, despite his best efforts, the very intuitive spirit medium seemed to have caught onto him, that he didn’t even realize the psychologist’s partner had yet to make an appearance at the table. Just as he was wondering if the blonde had come by herself, and exactly how he felt about that matter if she had, he heard her place an order for the Spiced Bresse Duck.

The waiter politely informed the doctor that the duck was to feed a minimum of two people.

Or just Luke Triton, my former apprentice on the other side of the pond with the Maya Fey equivalent legendary appetite, Layton thought to himself with amusement, then realized with a start, ordering the large waterfowl dish meant that indeed, the German woman most definitely had not arrived there alone.

“Perfect, thank you. Then it shall be something we can both enjoy.”

“We – meaning your fellow traveler, and yourself?” Layton blurted out, scanning the restaurant in search of the missing party. “I noticed you came in unescorted, Dr. Rudolf – although I gather by your large order you didn’t arrive here alone?”

“Kat is ordering for herself and said companion whom you missed this morning, as she ran off to go shopping with Flora, Professor.” Maya’s probing eyes were now intently scrutinizing his face as she spoke. “Anneliese needed to use the ladies’ room, but she should be here any minute.”

Layton was startled, as he’d not expected to hear a female name. Had it been presumptuous to assume Katharina’s partner was not a fortunate man, after all, but a woman?

“Anneliese? Apologies for any presumptuousness on my behalf, Dr. Rudolf. When your travel companion was mentioned earlier, I naturally assumed it to be your husband.”

“You were quite mistaken, Professor.” Katharina shook her head. “As Maya said, I am here with Anneliese, and most definitely not here in London with any husband…”

“Was this some sort of joke?!” A lass, who was a younger replica of the German woman save for her hazel eyes, chose that precise moment to make her entrance. “Bitte! The only thing she’s married to is her work! In fact, the last man to pull out a dining chair for her was a waiter – and it was probably tonight!”

Relief. Sheer, unadulterated relief.

There was no other word to describe the sensation he felt upon hearing that he had not been wildly fighting his impromptu magnetism towards a woman who belonged to another man.

Now it was just a matter of the fact that he was trying to resist his disturbingly mounting attraction towards a woman who although was unattached, was still far too young for him, and therefore, still completely out of his league!

“By process of elimination…” Anneliese finished greeting the others at the table and flashed the Brit her most dazzling smile. “You must be Flora’s father, Professor Layton.”

“I am, indeed.” Layton tipped his hat, gentleman mode easily resumed for the younger Rudolf. “How do you do?”

“Very well, danke. I’m Anneliese Rudolf, Flora’s childhood friend from summer camp.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Any friend of my daughter is a friend of mine.” He couldn’t help but be charmed by the lovely teenager, who although a bit cheeky, still had the same overall congeniality as her kinswoman. “I gather you’re Dr. Rudolf’s… sister?”

His innocent question resulted in the German adolescent bursting into an uncontrolled bout of giggles, during which Anneliese then went on to elaborate how her genetically blessed mother had borne her at a very young age. Then, to Katharina’s visible embarrassment, the girl offered a mocking apology for shattering his illusions about the psychologist being much younger because her Mama was much older than she appeared!

“Anneliese, zeige etwas Respekt!” Her mother commanded feebly. “Bitte!”

“Relax, Mama! I was only joking!” The undaunted teen argued huffily. “You should be flattered Flora’s Papa obviously thought you were too young to have a daughter my age! Learn to accept a compliment already!”

Layton felt some of the burden of self-disgust life off his shoulders. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen, as Maya had so bluntly paraphrased it, was not married, nor attached to either a man or woman, in any way, shape, or form! Also, as Anneliese had gleefully ensured he was aware, said lady was not a girl in her 20s who was young enough to be his daughter! Instead, Katharina was closer to his own age than he ever could have anticipated; a fellow single parent with a teenager of her own.

In other words, there was nothing unseemly or unsavory about the magnetic lure he felt towards the doctor, whom he found increasingly becoming with every passing minute … Except for one trifling little detail that could never be erased.

His relief dissipated as immediately as it had come, replaced by a heavy heart.

To have any of these unwanted stirrings at all was dreadful enough. The pièce de résistance was the tragic irony that it only compounded his already melancholic state due to this particular day’s date.

It was on this very day, July 20, two decades ago at that fateful BBQ, that Hershel Layton had met Claire Lee Foley.

The love of his life.

And on this anniversary, he reflected moodily, of all days, his fickle heart was trying to make him be drawn to another woman, one he’d placed several mental barricades against ever pursuing, with his speculations about her age and marital status, only to have them obliterated with one clean sweep of an oversharing teen’s sassy tongue!

I cannot deal with any of this right now. This is all too much. I don’t need any sort of complication in my life whatsoever…therefore, I need to leave. Now. It doesn’t even matter if Katharina thinks I am no gentleman, because, for the sake of my sanity, it’s best if I never see that woman, ever again.

He rose from his seat, planning to excuse himself by feigning a sudden case of headache and fatigue, then dismissed both as being too facile. Instead, he would claim to follow the prosecutor’s stellar example by calling it an early night, as the morrow would be a busy day of polo and palace tours.

“I’m a bit knackered from my long day at the Old Bailey, and have an even longer drive back to my humble abode out in the country.” The professor conspicuously avoided eye contact with any of the surprised faces at the table. “As I have an early day tomorrow, and it’s getting rather late, I reckon it would probably be best if I called it a night…”

Flora’s objection to his parting came as no surprise, as she’d only been reunited with her childhood mate earlier that morning and had no desire to leave Anneliese’s side just yet. What did befuddle him, though, was how passionately Maya chimed in with her own pleas to have him stay put.

Nonetheless, Layton stood his ground. Disregarding the mystery behind the spirit medium’s protests, he was in no mood to be indulgent to his admittedly over-pampered daughter. Using his best no-nonsense tone, he informed the stripling that she could see her friend the following day, as he had to return to London very early in the morning for his planned excursions with Phoenix and Miles.

“There’s another reason you can’t leave yet!” The village leader cried, reaching over and putting a hand on Layton’s arm. “A really good one!”

“Oh?” The professor was bewildered by her determination but eyed her curiously. “And what would that be, Maya?”

“Well…. because…” The Master floundered slightly and appeared to be wracking her brain for a viable excuse to deter him. Her eyes were so wide and desperate, he honestly wondered if there was cause for concern!

“Maya?” He regarded the necromancer strangely. “I do believe you were about to convey an irrefutable reason why I couldn’t take my leave just yet?”

He had to give the American credit for her creativity in coming up with an offer he could not refuse. In this case, it would be doing an encore of her songbird presentation. Also, she’d somehow clearance by the restaurant to perform right there and then, with the live band playing the instrumentals!

It was impossible to deny Flora the chance to see an actual live performance of the acclaimed songstress, whose singing video at her cousin’s wedding had become viral online. There was no way his daughter would ever have forgiven him such a misdeed – something he was certain the scheming psychic had counted on when she had hatched this peculiarly spontaneous plan!

Well, surely staying a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt. And Maya, even with all of her unpredictable eccentricities, was a very good friend who didn’t deserve to be slighted in such a manner.

Luke and Pearl were already up on the dance floor, soon followed by Phoenix and Anneliese as the village leader began her ariose cover of the famous Leanne Rimes song “Can’t Fight the Moonlight.” Expelling a silent sigh of acquiescence, Layton rose from his seat and approached his daughter’s chair.

“It appears Maya has left us little choice but to adopt a when-in-Rome mindset,” he told Flora with a smile. “Would you care to dance, my dear?”

“I would love to, Daddy,” the girl replied sweetly. “But it would be quite unfair to the other dancers if I were to knock them aside on that tiny little dance floor with this impractical stonker of the gown, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps we could keep our distance on the outskirts, out of the way from the others?” Layton proposed chivalrously. “It is my duty as a gentleman to demonstrate my enjoyment of the show to my dear old friend, who is performing.”

“I was a trifle too embarrassed to say this upfront, Daddy, but I seem to have twisted my ankle when I propelled out of the taxi earlier, so I’m afraid I’ll have to sit this one out.” The English girl was the personification of wide-eyed innocence as she angled her head at Katharina. “Why don’t you go ask Dr. Rudolf to dance, instead? After all, a gentleman pays attention to his manners in every setting, right?”

“Dr. Rudolf?” He reeled back slightly, as though his daughter had suggested something outlandish, like drinking Columbian coffee. “I – I don’t know…”

Seeing his hesitation, Flora clucked her tongue and waved her finger at him in mock disapproval.

“You must support Maya on both our behalves, Daddy! Besides, nobody has asked my dear mate’s Mummy to dance, and that just won’t do! Aren’t you the one who claims: One must always put a lady’s needs first – that’s what a gentleman does?”

Layton nodded stiffly, knowing when he was bested – and with his own teachings, to boot!

Forcing himself to keep his expression more neutral than guarded, he approached the wary doctor, who was trying not to let on she’d heard that entire debasing exchange about how the man had been all but coerced to dance with her, when it was evident he would rather have cuddled a cactus!

“Dr. Rudolf,” the Brit spoke formally as he bowed ever so slightly before her. “Would you give me the honor of this dance?”

Katharina evaded her gaze, too much of a genteel lady to refuse the strongarmed offer for the sake of social protocol, so she nodded mutely in response. However, she didn’t wait for him to offer his hand to her, and instead got up from her seat and simply walked ahead to the dance floor, giving him no choice but to follow.

Layton’s expression was somber once they got to the floor as he took her hands in his.

“If we do this, I feel like I should warn you, madam – it’s been years since I’ve danced.”

Her expression was guarded as she raised impassive eyes to meet his shuttered ones, and that was when he felt it.

It was an unmistakable charge – that static again; the crackling in the air which seemed to appear whenever the two of them got within a foot of each other. They were two strangers who had only met that day, and only been in one another’s vicinity for all of an hour thus far; there should have been nothing of this sort. However, it was undeniably present and they both felt it. That morning, it’d merely been enough to make the baby hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But now, as her tiny hand was placed in his and he felt the warmth of her palm against his own, it was more intense. It was enough that he was almost a tad afraid for his life; as if the spark he felt when her soft skin brushed his, that, one or both of them would be instantly electrocuted. 

Her delicate hand gently intertwines with mine, igniting a cosmic collision. In that simple touch, it feels as though entire galaxies converge, merging in a celestial dance.

And her eyes, oh, those eyes are a mesmerizing exhibition of countless galaxies. Within their depths, an entire cosmos unfolds, each twinkling star and swirling nebula encapsulating a world of wonder. They hold the mysteries of distant constellations and the secrets of uncharted realms. To gaze into those orbs is to embark on an ethereal journey, where the boundaries of time and space dissolve, and one becomes lost in the vast expanse of the universe within that gaze…

“It appears we have something in common, Professor. Let us hope it will be like riding a bicycle for us both, then.”

With the mellifluous voice of Maya serenading them, Layton found himself immersed in a state of unparalleled freedom, akin to the boundless wind. As his elegant dance partner graced his embrace, her delicate hand resting in his and the other finding its place upon his shoulder, he extended his free hand to gently curve around her hip. Together, they embarked on a joyous waltz, their movements guided by the music, their souls intertwined in perfect harmony.

In each twirl, they existed solely in that fleeting moment, embracing the present with unwavering devotion. They moved forward, their steps at times imbued with strength, and at others, surrendering to serene stillness. Within the richness of their dance, they found liberation, transcending the constraints of their bodies as their minds melded into tranquil unity.

Amidst their twirling synergy, an alluring hint of lavender permeated the air, a lingering fragrance that added an ethereal touch to the serene moments of repose. It was in the interplay of motion and tranquility, the delicate balance of the dance, that their shared connection painted a vivid portrait of their mutual affection, preserving it in the silence that lay ahead. And in this delicate interweaving, the dance became all the more enchanting, a testament to their synchronized harmony.

Your allure captivates me, casting a spell akin to a butterfly drawn to sweet nectar. There’s something about you, a perfect fusion of bashfulness and tenderness, that defies reason and logic. It’s a sensation that defies conventional descriptions. While others may speak of being weak in the knees, I must confess, in complete honesty, that you have the power to make my body forget the very existence of knees altogether.

She matched his rhythm as though she’d been his waltz partner her entire life, gracefully complementing his movements, step for step, her formal ballroom dance background allowing her footwork to be both expertly and flawlessly executed to match his own while maintaining a light meaningful stream of conversation that both allowed him to deeply reflect on her words, as well as his own.

Your words have an enchanting effect on me; as if the warm sun gently caresses my cheek with every syllable you utter. Your voice is a sweet melody that graces my eyes and ears, filling my senses with delight. The thought of enveloping myself in your words brings a sense of tranquility that surpasses even the deepest slumber. It’s as though we have embarked on a timeless song, a soothing melody that resonates with the depths of my soul, comforting and soothing me in ways I cannot fully express.

The duo had been swaying near a large Palladian window, and as Katharina tilted her head to the side to peer up at him, the motion resulted in her ethereal visage being captured under the streaming moonlight, giving her an angelic, almost otherworldly glow. He couldn’t pry his eyes away from hers this time – try as he might.

With a single glance, your eyes ensnared me in a captivating web of intrigue, leaving me entranced from that very moment. I cannot recall if it was the first, second, third, or fourth time I laid eyes upon your mesmerizing face, for I stole numerous lingering glances, each one intensifying my fascination. However, what I do know is this: as I hold you in my arms on this dance floor, a realization dawns upon me. In this very moment, I understand that the rest of the world fades away, melting into oblivion when I am in your presence. Though you possess a calmness akin to the gentle breeze, you command attention with a force that rivals even the mightiest storm. It astounds me how a mere gaze into your eyes can stir within me a hurricane of emotions, leaving me profoundly moved and captivated.

He almost felt like he was in a dream.

Life’s tapestry is often woven with threads that appear dreamlike, blurring the boundaries between fantasy and reality. At times, these ethereal visions materialize into tangible experiences, breathing life into our hopes and aspirations. They linger within us, poignant reminders of what once was, but no longer remains. Thus, we learn to cherish the fleeting beauty of these ephemeral encounters, embracing the bittersweet dance between dreams and the ephemeral nature of reality. However, as the ebb and flow of existence take its course, even the most cherished moments ultimately end as naught more than a memory.

The sobering thought crashed upon him with the force of a tidal wave, effectively destroying the newfound stirrings within him.

No! He couldn’t allow himself to be exposed to another devastating loss; he’d barely survived the first one. He was acting like a jejune, fanciful schoolboy to be making romantic musings about a woman he’d only just met! It was positively obscene how his treacherous heart was allowing him these clemencies – and on the anniversary date marking the day that he’d met the only woman he’d ever loved. The love of his life, who fate had cruelly snatched away from him far too soon. It was like a knife wound to the chest.

And here he was, on this most solemn of dates, dancing and entertaining flights of fancy about another woman, as though he hadn’t a care in the world!

Layton couldn’t recall a time when he’d loathed himself more. What was the matter with him? How could he betray Claire like this? Today of all days?

In the midst of shattered dreams, I find myself embracing a bittersweet journey. Claire, the most cherished part of my life, has departed, leaving behind a void that can never be filled. Memories, like a torrential flood, cascade upon my heart, presenting a mosaic of emotions: the expanse of joy, the depths of sadness, the endurance of patience, and the warmth of love. These reminiscences possess a sweetness akin to the first bloom of spring, yet they stir within me a hollow ache. Not a single day passes without the absence of that lost part of myself haunting my thoughts. Every passing minute whispers a soft lament from my heart, yearning for what once was. Oh, how I miss her. Though I may sing and dance, the echoes of joy will forever bear an altered hue, and my smile will forever bear the weight of incompleteness. I am burdened, my dear, for my heart groans with each beat, and despite my efforts to move forward, the tenacious grip of memories refuses to release its vice grip…

Clenching his jaw, he somehow managed to remain on the dance floor harmoniously right until the end, when Maya wrapped up the tune, and then proudly bowed to the standing ovation she garnered. The much-deserved hand gave the professor and the doctor no choice but to separate, and the Professor knew that was his cue to put as much distance between Katharina and himself then, and get out of there as fast as his legs could carry him…Before she looked at him with those eyes yet again and made him lose himself once more.

“Thank you for the dance, Dr. Rudolf,” he intoned woodenly, tipping down the brim of his hat so she couldn’t see his visage anymore. “I must be off now. Since Flora is so keen to stay, and dinner has yet to be served, please let her know she has the option to remain in town – and bunk with Pearl and Maya until the morrow. Alternately, she can room for the night or yourself and Anneliese, should you allow.”

He made the mistake of peering upward for an instant into her ethereal visage and felt a twinge of chagrin as he saw the unmasked hurt and bewilderment there. Steeling his nerves, he turned his head away, feeling every bit like the discourteous bastard she now believed him to be.

“Flora has my charge card for anything she may require, although, of course, I shall settle the tab for any additional expenses that should befall you, ladies, thus, along with my tab here at the restaurant, on my way out, as well,” he added crisply. “Please let my daughter know I will collect her by evening, after both our respective outings. Good night.”

As he strode out of the restaurant, he forced himself not to take even a fleeting gander backward, because he knew if he did, he would lose his resolve and cave into whatever message his battered and confused heart was crying out to him.

Bloody hell, just forget about the woman, dammit! He thought grimly. She’s like an exquisite gallery painting –which means you can only stare at her, but you can’t touch her. A woman like that can only be your undoing – she’s meant to be kept at arm’s length. Ergo, take these brief memories you’ve collected of her and safely store them in that proverbial memory box on a shelf. Better yet, wipe her from your mind entirely, because after this unprecedented rebuff, if Katharina Rudolf never sees you again, it will be too soon. You may as well have outright told her to naff off!

His self-disgust had reached its highest pinnacle. He was fully aware that he’d acted like an unforgivable coward with his churlish actions, and as he hastened his steps to exit the premises, his admonishing mind made it excruciatingly aware that he would not be able to escape his thoughts.

You are nothing more than a weak and lily-livered man, Sir Hershel Layton! Even being an esteemed knight cannot erase the fact that you are naught more than a sniveling coward! One who fears rejection and heartbreak so much that you’ve pushed away the very first woman in 20 years whom you grew even the remotest fondness for! Well, cheers to you then, Professor! Unquestionably, your actions have ensured that you’ll die lonely, but at least you’ve jolly well ensured there’s consistency!

For Ilet Moratar: Tina Turner – What’s Love Got To Do With It (Chapter Title)

Adele – When We Were Young (Layton’s flashback)

Automatic – Pointer Sisters