Chapter 2

"Ghost？" There was a subtle ripple in Jonathan Grey's voice as he finally sat up on the couch.

I turned to look at him. "You know him?"

He quickly slipped back into his laid-back attitude, shaking his head and chuckling. "How could I possibly know him? A genius perfumer like that is way out of our world." As he spoke, he grabbed an apple from the table and took a bite, his gaze unconsciously flicking toward the TV screen.

I carefully put away the drop of tuberose absolute, and the thorn in my heart twisted even deeper.

However, I'd definitely heard of Ghost.Three years ago, that name burst onto the scene, turning the perfume world upside down with a groundbreaking modern style mixed with Eastern flair. He never showed his face, and his works were rare, but every single one became a collector's item that everyone scrambled to own.

But just when his fame was at its peak, he disappeared overnight, becoming a legendary enigma in the industry.

As for Jonathan Grey, three years ago was exactly when we got married. He told me he was sick of all the scheming at work and just wanted to settle down and focus on family. I was completely immersed in the fragrance world I'd built for myself, foolishly thinking he'd be my most loyal haven.

*****

It was late, and Jonathan Grey was already fast asleep. But I couldn't sleep at all. I got up and headed to his study. This was the only place in the house I was never allowed to enter. He always said he liked peace and quiet, and my perfume would just distract him when he was reading.

I stood at the doorway to the study, almost as if possessed, and pushed open the door that was slightly ajar. The room was spotless, but instead of his usual finance or history books, the shelves were packed with books about chemistry, botany, and the art of fragrance.

In the bottom corner of the desk, I caught sight of a silver safe. I'd seen it before. He always claimed it was just for some important business documents. But right now, it felt like Pandora's box, tempting me with its forbidden mystery. I knelt down and let my fingers glide across the cold metal surface. It was locked.

Suddenly, I remembered that a few days ago, when I was swapping out his coats for the season, I'd come across a small silver key in one of the pockets. He'd gotten all nervous and snatched it right out of my hand, saying it was just for his office locker.

I practically sprinted back to the bedroom and pulled out that coat. The key was still sitting there in the pocket, my hand was shaking so much I almost couldn't hold onto that tiny key.

I slipped the key into the lock and turned it gently. There was a soft click, the safe opened.

But instead of the harsh, overwhelming scent I'd imagined, what greeted me was something entirely unexpected. It was an incredibly complex, rich, and remarkably harmonious blend of aromas, gently permeating the space.

This was the distinctive "box-aged" fragrance born from hundreds of rare extracts mingling together in a sealed environment over time. Only master perfumers would ever use such an extravagant method to safeguard their most treasured ingredients.

Inside the safe, rows of deep brown glass bottles were lined up with meticulous precision. Damask rose, Grasse jasmine, Indian tuberose, ambergris, musk... Each one was the kind of rare treasure I'd spent my whole life yearning for.

And nestled among all those bottles was a black leather notebook, just lying there quietly. With trembling hands, I opened it. Inside, the pages were packed with tiny, crowded handwriting.

There was no mistaking that handwriting, I knew it like the back of my hand. It was his, Jonathan Grey.