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He tapped the rim of his wine glass lightly, a glint of quiet pride in his eyes. “Novels, Anna… inside The Camphorwood Guardian. Every theory, every model, every wild, impossible idea I’ve ever chased — it’s all there. Hidden in plain sight. Disguised between the lines. Waiting.” He leaned in just a little, his voice lowering with that teasing edge only Julian could pull off. “And knowing you…” — he gave a small, knowing smile — “I’m willing to bet you picked up on that already. Sharp mind like yours? You were always the first to see what others missed.”

Anna gave a small, almost shy laugh. “I had my suspicions,” she admitted, swirling her wine absentmindedly.

Julian chuckled, that low, warm sound that always made her feel like she was in on some private joke. “Guilty,” he said. “Camouflaging quantum mechanics in folklore — Oxford would’ve thrown a fit.”

He paused for a beat, then his expression turned more serious. Thoughtful. “You know,” he said quietly, “that’s why I said The Camphorwood Guardian is an invitation.” He looked at Anna, “Because I knew... if anyone in this world would read between the lines — really see what’s buried beneath all the riddles and stories — it would be you.”

“Anna, this wasn’t just a letter to catch up. This wasn’t nostalgia.” He tapped his finger once, lightly, against the table. “It was a signal from me. I want you to work with me. Five years ago, when Oxford shut down my research lab... I realized something.” He looked at her, steady and unguarded. “Ideas like ours — the kind of ideas that don't just challenge what we think we know — but the kind that could unravel everything we've ever believed about the universe. They don’t survive well in glass cages. But stories? Stories slip through. They travel. And they last forever.”

Anna felt her heart give the smallest, traitorous skip. Of course this was where it was leading. A part of her — maybe from the moment she read letter from Julian — had known Julian wasn’t just inviting her for dinner out of nostalgia.

She leaned back in her chair, studying him, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.

"You know..." she said softly, "I had a feeling before coming in that you didn’t drag me all the way out here just for steak and old memories. And I guess I am right."

Julian’s grin was immediate — that boyish, crooked thing she remembered from years ago, still hiding beneath all the polish and elegance he'd grown into.

"Guilty, right?" he admitted without hesitation. "But I thought maybe... I should at least buy you dinner before trying to drag you into this."