BADIL 21

Chapter 21

Vanerinne chewed on her nails. She knew she was ruining her perfectly manicured hands, but she couldn’t suppress her anxiety.

“And that hairpin she wore on her head…”

It wasn’t exactly a hairpin—more like a large gem pinned to her hair.

It was the yellow sapphire—the very one she had begged for so many times. A family heirloom passed down to the Duchesses of the Duke of Luke’s household for generations. The Duke had brushed her off irritably when she’d asked for it.

“Princess, I told you, there’s nothing I want from you. So don’t expect anything from me either.”

The Duke’s cold voice still rang vividly in her ears. And he hadn’t been lying—no matter how hard Vanerinne tried to provoke him, he’d always remained indifferent. It was precisely his apathy that had emboldened her to start desiring more and more.

Everything had been fine that way. It wasn’t a marriage born of love, so she had decided to live as she pleased.

But then that jewel appeared before her. Vanerinne gnashed her teeth.

To think that Cerulian had it.

That gem—the one he’d refused to give her even when she’d said it would help establish her authority as Duchess—was now glittering in Edel Azean’s hair. There was only one possible reason for that: the Duke himself had given permission.

Paul Luke.

The same man who’d never cared whether his own house burned down or flooded—why was he suddenly choosing now to openly support Cerulian?

What on earth is he thinking?

Everything seemed to point toward the Duke’s favor shifting toward Cerulian.

And yet, when I actually see them together, he’s still so curt.

Even at dinner, judging by his detached expression, there didn’t seem to be any major change in their relationship.

If he truly intended to back Cerulian, he wouldn’t have attached a woman like Edel Azean to him.

What possible benefit could there be in pairing a commoner—one who did nothing but irritate her—as his wife? In fact, the one who seemed unusually close to Edel Azean was Cerulian himself.

To think he even mentioned reopening the investigation. Since when has he ever cared so much about other people’s business?

Everything was a mess.

Vanerinne’s fingers trembled as she recalled the dinner. She muttered under her breath, staring at the floor.

“Why am I the one suffering because of some nobody like her…?”

Watching Vanerinne ramble as if half-drunk, Lady Sage clasped her hands tightly.

Then, Vanerinne’s gaze suddenly turned toward her son—Charles.

“Charles.”

The boy with golden hair, standing beside Lady Sage, froze, his round eyes wide.

Vanerinne strode toward him and gripped his shoulders so tightly her fingerprints might be left behind.

“That’s why you must become stronger, my son. So that when you inherit the title, no one dares to oppose you. You must be dignified and powerful…”

“M-Mother…”

Tears welled up in his large eyes. Vanerinne stared down at his pale face with a cold, unfeeling gaze.

“Stop crying immediately. You must always be calm and composed like the Duke. That’s how you’ll be able to fight terrifying monsters—like the Roars.”

“I-I can’t…”

How could he stop crying when tears were already falling? Reflexively, Charles tried to speak, but when he met his mother’s icy stare, he quickly covered his mouth with both hands.

Vanerinne’s fingers brushed across his chubby cheek.

“Why is your face so plump? You should look sharper, more agile. Your father…”

Her words trailed off—and suddenly, she hurled a nearby vase.

Crash!

At the sound of shattering glass, Charles flinched and cowered. Vanerinne smiled sweetly.

“You should eat less. And spend more time on swordsmanship practice.”

“…”

Worried his stomach might rumble, Charles pressed his hands tightly over his belly.

If he went down the stairs right now, he could have a warm bowl of soup and a tender steak—if only he went down.

But the Duke had never once shown any interest in him. The boy knew that even if he appeared in the dining hall, his father wouldn’t spare him a single glance.

“…Yes, Mother.”

So he didn’t go. Because he wanted to be a good son to her.

“Good boy.”

Pleased with his obedient reply, Vanerinne smiled radiantly. Her expression soon returned to its usual calm as she stepped out of her room and rang a small bell to summon the servants.

Leaving the door deliberately open so others could hear, she turned toward Lady Sage’s daughter, Laura, and said sweetly,

“Oh my, Laura. I know you’re worried about me, but you really shouldn’t wreck the room like this. You must learn to control your temper.”

At her words, all the maids who came to clean turned their gazes to Laura. The young woman’s jaw tightened.

“…I was angry, that’s all. His Grace was so cruel. How could he treat Her Highness that way?”

Laura bowed her head—taking the blame for everything Vanerinne had done.

That was how she survived.

After returning from the Duke of Luke’s mansion, I couldn’t fight off the overwhelming drowsiness that pressed down on me and soon fell into a deep sleep.

Even in the carriage ride home, I’d barely been able to keep my eyes open.

As I dozed, I vaguely heard uneasy voices coming and going.

“What should we do?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll prepare the lady’s bed.”

It was Cerulian and Kalima. Hearing their familiar voices, I felt strangely reassured and drifted off again like a soaked piece of cotton.

It was odd to feel safe with people I’d only just met—but somehow, the two of them calmed me.

As I dozed off again, something soft and warm was laid over me—a thick blanket.

Ah, I’m not even cold. But wow, this blanket’s so fluffy. Everything feels nice right now.

The surface I was leaning against was radiating heat—almost too warm—but it felt so comforting that I couldn’t push it away.

…Wait. Warm? What exactly was I lying on?

I should open my eyes, but they won’t open.

It felt as though the thread holding my body together had been snipped. I wasn’t fully asleep, but not awake either—a strange in-between state.

Then Kalima’s voice resumed the conversation.

“The lady has a point. The social world thrives on rumors—it’s better not to stir things up. Reinvestigation could easily cause trouble.”

He was referring to what I’d said earlier at dinner—about not reopening the case and waiting quietly. After a pause, Kalima spoke again, firmer this time.

“But since it involves the Imperial Princess’s palace, it won’t be too hard to find out. Leave it to me.”

“Thank you,” Cerulian replied.

“I should be the one thanking you. I’ll always…”

He trailed off at the most important part. Both fell silent. Even half-asleep, I grew frustrated.

Unfair! Tell me too! I have the right to know—I’m the one involved here!

My mind buzzed restlessly, but my body wouldn’t respond. I must’ve been more tense during dinner than I’d realized.

Then Cerulian’s voice drifted faintly through the haze.

“So the investigation… clearly related to…”

Ah, I was sure they were talking about me.

That was the last thing I remembered before plunging back into deep sleep. A large, gentle hand patted my shoulder.

“Sleep well.”

The low voice was oddly soft—so much that it made my ears feel warm.

The Duke of Luke sat motionless in his chair, gazing out the window. In the garden below, several small lamps glowed faintly.

“Edel Azean.”

Even from a great distance, he could see her clearly—the red hair pinned up neatly, the slender neck, the shoulders.

The yellow gemstone glittering in her hair glowed even in the dark. The Duke’s blue eyes darkened like the depths of the sea as he stared at it.

He muttered under his breath,

“…Disgusting.”

A woman from long ago—who once owned that gem—surfaced vividly in his mind.

She had short, golden curls that brushed her ears, and pale green eyes that were wide and round but without double lids. She was petite, delicately built, and strikingly voluptuous—a beautiful woman.

She used to smile brightly at him and call him by name.

“Paul.”

Whenever she spoke, her voice carried the sweet scent of flowers—so intoxicating it felt as though he might melt. The Duke ran a hand irritably through his hair.

Sensations were such a nuisance. Memories surged uncontrollably whenever something similar triggered them—like drawers bursting open, spilling everything inside.

He twisted his lips. Contrary to what Cerulian had said—that he must’ve forgotten about it long ago—the Duke remembered exactly where the yellow sapphire was.

“To think Cerulian would give it to someone else…”

He knew better than anyone what that jewel symbolized. Yet there had been only one reason he’d entrusted it to Cerulian.

To send it somewhere it would never be noticed.

He knew Cerulian well—they were cut from the same cloth.

I never thought he’d form any personal attachments.

Would he have ever handed over that gem unless he had a lover? And the Cerulian he knew was a man completely numb to affection.

The Duke had been certain that if he gave the sapphire to Cerulian, it would never see the light of day again.

And yet here it is, right in front of me.

The yellow gem shimmered mockingly before him, as if vying for his attention.

Annoyed yet unable to look away, he gazed out the window for a long while.

Then his butler knocked. Without shifting his gaze, the Duke tapped the desk twice, granting permission. The butler entered and bowed.

“Your Grace.”