“Then I’ll take my leave first. I had somewhere to stop by, and as you can see, I’m a bit late.”
The orange light that had filled the sky earlier was now being swallowed by darkness. As she reached the entrance, the usual eerie coachman was waiting for her.
Karia greeted him with a light smile and climbed into the carriage, leaving the mansion behind.
Leaving only a still-flustered Noah behind.
“What was that intense look just now?”
“Intense look” might not be exactly the right term, but Karia had clearly tried to touch him in a different way just now.
Noah stood there, desperately trying to figure out if he had done something wrong. But he couldn’t think of anything. Surely, she wouldn’t react like that just because he had made a comment about the duke in the midst of a divorce.
“-No way.”
Noah anxiously rubbed his chin. If it wasn’t a mistake on his part, then the meaning behind that fiery gaze was—
“‘I want it so badly I could kill for it…’ was it about me?”
“Eh? Who? No, absolutely not!”
The one reacting to his muttered words was Chagal, who had quietly approached from behind.
All of Noah’s subordinates were rather dull, so he had sent Chagal, the only one capable of making eye contact with a lady, as his guard. After a week of good meals and rest, his skin now had a smooth, healthy sheen.
Noah pushed away Chagal’s head, covering his ears against his noisy chatter.
This bothersome subordinate never let him have a moment of serious thought.
“Lady, aren’t you having guards accompany you when you go out?”
“Oh, the lady said no one needs to follow her today.”
“If she says no one is needed, does that mean you shouldn’t follow? Do you even realize how many eyes are watching her right now? If the lady doesn’t want to be seen, then you have to hide and follow her!”
“Go immediately!” Noah kicked Chagal in the shin and stormed out of the mansion.
Through the folds of the black robe, something silver caught the starlight and glimmered briefly.
On an otherwise ordinary day, the household was thrown into chaos. The duchess had exposed the head housekeeper’s corruption and declared she would divorce and leave the house.
Cristan watched a step behind as his father called the servants together, scolding them and reprimanding the household staff.
A few days later, the duke called him over.
“Cristan, did you know how your mother was living in this house?”
The Duke of Pandeon had been physically and mentally exhausted after days of correcting mistakes. Cristan, seeing his father’s dark-circled eyes and exhausted expression, let out a small laugh.
‘Well, that’s a quick question to ask.’
With that, Cristan turned and left. His father called after him with a stern voice, but Cristan didn’t stop. His father’s eyes were searching for someone to blame.
Cristan had no expectations of his father, but watching him panic only after a problem arose felt truly petty.
“Master, are you going to keep waiting here? We don’t even know when the duchess will arrive—”
Cristan had taken advantage of the household’s chaos to free up time for studying and had been visiting a small orphanage for several days. It was the orphanage where Karia often volunteered.
“But I can’t think of anywhere else to go.”
He parked the carriage in a quiet area near the orphanage and waited for hours. The head of the orphanage offered him tea, but Cristan declined. Even the coachman and guards had nothing to do but wait idly.
Yet, as always, all waiting eventually comes to an end. Soon, a splendid carriage, out of place in the shabby street, stopped in front of the orphanage.
The coachman respectfully opened the door, and a lady appeared, her neatly styled golden hair shining in the light.
“Oh.”
It was his mother.
But she looked very different from usual. Instead of the simple attire she normally wore inside the house, today she had a luxurious necklace around her neck. Her dress had a subtle sheen of the finest material, and the carriage she arrived in was larger than even the best carriage of the Pandeon family.
‘Right, she is of royal blood. It makes sense that this appearance suits her better. Silly me.’
Cristan discreetly hid the pouch of money he had brought—his emergency fund saved gradually in case of unforeseen circumstances.
He had worried she might be in financial trouble, but judging by her appearance, giving her this little money would probably only earn a laugh.
“I’ll go back.”
“Eh? After waiting here like this, you’re just leaving? Even if you don’t want her to come back, you could at least get out and greet her.”
“I said I’ll go back.”
With Cristan’s stubbornness, the coachman had no choice but to drive off. The boy looked out the window, his expression conflicted and silent.
‘I wish I could see Lady Karia.’
When Karia first entered the Pandeon household, Cristan was only three years old. He could only toddle around with his short legs and speak in childish, awkward sentences.
The boy, unaware of death or adult interests, would wander the mansion endlessly in search of his mother.
‘Ah, Cristan.’
Occasionally, when walking along quiet streets, he would run into her. Though she was not the same as his mother, who had brown hair and pale green eyes, her eyes were as kind as his mother’s, and Cristan grew very fond of her.
‘You came here alone? Grandma will worry.’
‘Tch… I don’t care about grandma.’
After the late duchess passed away, the head housekeeper took control of the mansion and strictly educated Cristan as the heir.
If Karia were to have a child who could become the duke’s successor, the head housekeeper’s power would weaken, so she secured the succession early.
The three-year-old Cristan found all these sudden changes unfamiliar and unpleasant. Most of all, he hated how his grandmother taught him to oppose Karia.
‘Hold me.’
Whenever he said this, Karia would always hesitate but eventually open her thin arms and embrace him. Even a small child could tell who truly cared for him.
In this mansion, no one cared for him as genuinely as she did—not the nurses seeking influence, not the indifferent father, nor the intimidating grandmother. Cristan preferred Karia immensely.
‘Cristan! How many times have I told you not to associate with that girl?! Why won’t you listen to me?!’
‘Grandma only ever complains about Lady Karia! I like Lady Karia way more than you!’
‘Hah! How did that sly girl enchant him so that he wouldn’t listen?’
Cristan, the firstborn of the Pandeon family and the future heir, may not have understood every word, but he knew one thing: in this house, his position was second only to his father.
That’s why he continually opposed the head housekeeper. He wanted to protect Karia.
‘Lady Karia, don’t go! Don’t leave!’
But his misconception was soon shattered. The head housekeeper sent Karia away to her estate. Cristan could do nothing.
When he tried to chase after her carriage, the head housekeeper stopped him and said:
‘This is all your fault, Cristan.’
‘—My fault?’
‘If you hadn’t acted so recklessly, she wouldn’t have been sent away.’
That day, Cristan tasted frustration for the first time. When his father returned, he clung to him, begging for Karia to be brought back…
‘She went voluntarily to get used to her estate as the duchess. You can’t order her around just because you want to see her.’
His father was always like that.
Which duchess would willingly go to an unfamiliar estate alone right after marriage?
But his father, always busy, never considered Karia’s feelings. He never cared.
Since no one made a fuss, he assumed there was no problem—or ensured there could be none.
Three years later, when Karia returned to the estate, Cristan resolved to finally support her, but his father would not listen.
‘Your mother wouldn’t do such a thing. I’ve heard nothing from her. You must be mistaken. Focus on your studies.’
He only went through the motions. Even when Cristan asked the head housekeeper, she covered it up with a natural lie. The duke never investigated and took it at face value.
Every time, Cristan lost something—first a chef’s son he often played with, then a long-time maid, and next, a respected fencing teacher.
‘Master, do not test my patience. The more you do, the worse it will be for you.’
Cristan eventually gave up resisting. He wore the clothes put on him like a doll, studied as instructed, and learned helplessness. The head housekeeper was extremely satisfied with her increasingly dark and passive grandson.
At some point, he began telling Karia the same things he said to others:
‘Don’t waste energy on a fight you can’t win. It’ll only make the household noisy.’
He thought little of her. How could a royal, an adult, not solve this herself? Why was she trembling pathetically before him, still looking at him with such affectionate eyes?
If the servants ignored her, he would slap them. If he couldn’t, he would go to his father for help. If that failed… well… then she might as well just divorce.
