Chapter 75
The past few days had flown by—days spent tied up with guests to meet during the daytime, and nights spent in Cayente’s arms. Before she knew it, it was already the last day of their honeymoon.
Sitting at the dining table, cutting into a fig, Yulia blinked a few times at the words Merwin, who was serving breakfast, had just spoken.
“Fireworks?”
“Today is your last day in the Duchy, isn’t it? As it happens, there will be fireworks over the Denz River tonight. If you’d like, I could reserve seats at a nearby restaurant so you can enjoy them comfortably.”
Night, Denz River, fireworks—every word tugged at Yulia’s interest. She turned to Cayente, who took a crisp bite of an apple, chewed, swallowed, and asked Merwin,
“What time does it begin?”
“The fireworks start at nine. But you’d do well to go out earlier. The local guilds are running a small night market to promote their goods—you’ll find plenty to look at.”
“Really? I haven’t gotten gifts for my family yet. Do you think I’ll find something suitable?”
“Of course.”
“We’re going, right?”
A night market and fireworks—Yulia wanted to dash to the river right that instant, though there was still plenty of time left. Her excitement overflowed, while Cayente lifted his gaze to the clock on the wall and let out a small sigh.
“There’s no time. I have too much to finish before leaving. I need to focus on the work waiting in the Empire.”
“Then I’ll just go alone—”
“No.”
“What if I go with Becky—”
“I said no.”
It had felt like a trip since the scenery had changed, but with Cayente so busy, it hadn’t really felt like a honeymoon. The night market and fireworks by the river seemed like the perfect way to make up for that—yet Cayente opposed the idea. Her expression fell at once. Seeing this, Cayente, who had been sipping his tea, checked the clock again and spoke.
“The market might be difficult, but I’ll make sure to be there for the fireworks.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Yulia nearly leapt for joy. She’d seen fireworks in the Empire, but only faint sparks behind the palace on New Year’s.
“You’re going out this afternoon?”
“Yes, to check if the sugar delivery for the factory workers arrived properly before we leave.”
Things had gotten better since they’d shared a bed again, but Yulia still didn’t dare bring up money matters directly. It wasn’t about avoiding his displeasure—she simply wanted to make sure things turned out well. Once back in the Empire, she planned to ask Henry to look into Clu Weaving’s finances, to see if more profit could be shared with the workers. For now, she had ordered small gifts to help with their everyday lives.
“I was thinking of buying some extra winter coats for the children in the territory. Is that alright?”
“Do as you please.”
Whenever Yulia said she wanted to do something, Cayente always told her to go ahead. Maybe it was simply because there was no reason to stop her from looking after her people as a countess.
“Merwin, how long is the drive from the estate to the Denz River?”
“About twenty minutes by carriage, though with the crowd tonight, I recommend leaving early.”
“I see. Then, brother, can you be back thirty minutes before?”
“I’ll try.”
“Thank you.”
He could’ve easily dismissed it—“What does it matter if we miss some silly fireworks when I’m this busy?”—yet he promised to try, just because Yulia wanted to see them. It felt almost like a dream, compared to the cold words he had spoken before.
“Go, then.”
“Is that all for your day?”
“Yes. The rest of the time I’ll spend practicing the cello.”
“Alright.”
After all that had happened with her father, a honeymoon hardly seemed fitting, but she was glad they had come. Being in a strange place, just the two of them, made her feel noticeably closer to Cayente.
“If only things could stay like this…”
After seeing him off, Yulia returned to her room, gathered her cello, and let out a soft sigh. She laughed easily these days, but sometimes fear crept in—that she might be letting her guard down too much, only to be hurt badly later. Their relationship had always swung suddenly from near to distant.
But… Yulia prayed with all her heart. She wished, more than anything, that this marriage would be a happy one. Just as she had hoped on the very day it was first arranged.
As the sun set and darkness drew near, Cayente was just leaving the office of the Duchy. He had intended to finish quickly, but listening to reports alone was never enough—he had to go over the documents himself, which had dragged the work out.
“If a monthly report isn’t enough, I can send one weekly. It’s no trouble.”
“Weekly isn’t necessary. Once every two weeks will do.”
Daniel, who had been organizing the last files onto the shelf, followed behind him. He had chosen loyalty to Cayente because the cost of betrayal was too high, but he was also good at his work.
Especially the reports—they showed he understood what Cayente wanted to know, and what mattered most. He was sharper than many nobles with a university education, quick with numbers, and perceptive about market trends.
If he had said as much when Yulia asked about Daniel, perhaps her expression would have been different.
“This clock is wrong.”
“The clock, sir?”
Crossing the long hallway—twice as long as any in the Empire—and descending to the lobby, Cayente checked the clock before leaving.
“It’s thirty minutes fast. In the office it was eight.”
“No, sir, this is correct. Ah… the office must have been left empty and no one wound the clock.”
Daniel checked his worn pocket watch, its silver plating nearly gone, and smiled. Realizing the truth, Cayente looked at his own watch and his expression darkened. It was already eight-thirty, not eight.
“I’m late. Skip the formalities.”
He didn’t want to care, yet he couldn’t help it. Fireworks shouldn’t matter, but he had already sent Yulia ahead with Merwin, hoping to save time. At this rate, she would end up watching them alone.
Cayente hurried to the car and sped toward the Denz River. He thought he could make it if he drove fast, but the road there was clogged—an inescapable bottleneck. Crawling along, he reached a point where the river was just visible. It was already 8:50.
“You. What’s your name?”
Impatience snapping, Cayente stepped out and approached a man standing guard outside a hotel.
“Me, sir?”
“Yes, you. Can you drive?”
“I can, but why—”
“Take this car to the Clu estate on Cane Street. Here’s fifty gold. If the car arrives safely, I’ll have another fifty sent to the hotel.”
“Give me the keys! I’ll deliver it without a scratch!”
Cayente didn’t care if the man stole it. He had to reach Yulia before the fireworks began.
Yulia, who had set out earlier with Merwin, gasped in delight as soon as they reached the river.
Along the banks, small carts had been turned into stalls, each lit with bulbs of different shapes and brightness. The glow shimmered on the calm water, as if stars had fallen into the river.
“It’s beautiful!”
Cayente had unusually told her to go on ahead, but standing here, seeing this beauty alone, made her feel strangely lonely. She gave Merwin a small smile.
“Maybe I should’ve waited and come with him after all.”
“The Count said he’d be here for the fireworks. He’ll arrive soon.”
“I hope so.”
Trusting Merwin’s words, Yulia wandered among the stalls. As expected from a country skilled in glasswork, most of the stalls sold glass goods—large decorative pieces for the hallway, small trinkets for a desk, in every shape and color. She lost track of time just admiring them.
While picking out gifts for her family, she paused before a paperweight her father could use for his books.
When would she ever get to give it to him?
Feeling a pang of loneliness, she glanced around, wondering when Cayente would arrive. The crowd had thickened even more. Checking the time, she saw it was already 8:55, nearly nine.
“It must be because the fireworks are about to start. Let’s move to the restaurant. Seats have been prepared.”
But still no sign of Cayente, who should’ve arrived earlier. Thinking maybe he had gone straight to the restaurant, she tried to head that way—but the crowd was so dense she could barely move a step.
“Please make way! The Countess of Clu is passing through!”
Most of the nobles had already taken the best seats. The crowd by the river was mostly commoners. Merwin did his best to clear a path, and the people obliged, but progress was slow, each step requiring explanation.
And then— boom!—the first firework shot into the sky.
