Chapter 1 - Her Eyes Are Beautiful
I had always believed that numbers could explain almost everything in the world.
Patterns, sequences, probabilities—if one looked closely enough, the universe always revealed its logic.
But the day Lady Élisabeth Armand asked me about Fibonacci, I discovered that some things refuse to follow any pattern at all.
That morning, the air in the academy hall felt colder than usual. Perhaps it was not a matter of the season, but rather the unease that had taken hold of my mind.
I withdrew my pocket watch—an old heirloom from my father—and slowly clicked open the case. Its small hands moved without mercy, a reminder that the hour to stand before the class drew near.
Today, my group was to present a study on the history of the Fibonacci sequence—a simple pattern of numbers that, somehow, held the power to explain so many of the world's secrets.
Usually, I never felt nervous when speaking of numbers. To me, mathematics was something quiet, logical, and certain. It was unlike human life, which is so often fraught with confusion.
Yet, that day felt different.
When at last I stood before the class and began to speak of Leonardo Fibonacci—of how the pattern was discovered and how it manifested in nature, from flowers and shells to the very galaxies—my mind remained clear.
My words flowed with their usual order.
The presentation proceeded well enough. My classmates watched with gravity; some took notes, while others merely listened with an air of half-hearted boredom.
When I finished, our tutor opened the floor for questions.
It was then that it happened.
A young woman in the middle row slowly raised her hand.
I did not recall ever seeing her before.
She rose with a calm demeanour and spoke in a voice that was soft, yet remarkably clear.
“I found your explanation of Fibonacci most interesting. Would you be so kind as to allow me a question?”
I nodded.
But when my eyes truly met her face, my mind suddenly went blank.
Not because of her query. But because of her eyes.
I had never seen such eyes before.
Their colour was soft, yet profound, as though they held something that could not be articulated by words—nor even by numbers.
For someone who spent his life studying patterns and logic, I found it strange that I could not comprehend one simple thing: why could I not stop staring into her eyes?
The lady began to ask her question regarding the relationship between the Fibonacci sequence and the natural proportions of flora.
Her question was intelligent. Exceedingly so.
Yet, for some reason, I could only process half of her words. The rest were drowned out by my own thoughts.
Was this what they called love? Simply from looking into someone's eyes?
Why were they so beautiful?
Who was she?
I forced myself to return to the matter at hand. As one known for his intellect within the academy, it would have been most humiliating to fail an answer simply because of a pair of eyes.
I took a shallow breath and answered as best I could, explaining how the Fibonacci pattern often appears in the arrangement of leaves and petals for the sake of natural growth efficiency.
When I finished, she offered a small smile.
A simple smile, yet it left a curious warmth in my chest.
Shortly thereafter, the class concluded.
The students began to pack their belongings and depart. The sound of scraping chairs and quiet conversation filled the air. Subconsciously, I sought her out amongst the crowd.
But she was nowhere to be found. She was gone.
That was the first day I saw her.
And I did not know that this brief encounter would be the start of something far more complex than any mathematical problem I had ever encountered.
A few days later, fate brought us together once more.
This time, not as strangers, but as members of the same group in another class.
And from then on, slowly but surely, the distance between us began to shorten.
At least... that is what I believed then.
I did not yet know that in this world, there are distances that cannot be measured by any number.
Not even by mathematics.
