#29.
“I heard it was on the outskirts of the new city—could it have been a secret rendezvous?”
“My goodness. The Duke moves fast, doesn’t he? I didn’t expect him to be seeing a young lady who rarely even appears in society.”
“I heard he stayed quite a while at the Loranga estate that day, until Baron Jun personally escorted him out.”
“Oh really? That’s quite a provocative scandal, isn’t it?”
“With how notorious he is for his affairs, poor Miss Emilia must be having a hard time.”
“Still, becoming a duchess? That’s a huge step up—especially for someone of Baron Jun’s rank.”
“True. And with His Majesty watching closely, none of the high nobles want to get involved with the Loranga family. Emilia is a clever one.”
“I told you—she hardly ever smiles, so I figured she had some schemes going on in the background.”
“Well, she comes from an ambitious family. Those habits don’t go away so easily.”
Gossip had a way of mutating—truth tangled with lies, judgment with slander—until it turned into a murky mess that lost all original color.
And once the gossip was already dirty, no one noticed if a few more words were thrown in. People loved gossip—
the more scandalous, the better.
While the nobles were immersed in the scandal of Mariette Loranga and Emilia Tollin, on the other side, Ron was receiving a report from Ober and Julian.
“Hendrick has returned?”
“Yes. Sir Foy is currently staying at the Loranga estate.”
At the mention of Hendrick pledging himself as Mariette’s escort knight, Ron’s face immediately twisted.
Ten years ago, right after the wolf hunt, Hendrick Foy—only nine years old at the time—boldly ran away from home, claiming he would travel the country.
He used to follow Mariette, then a crown prince’s grandchild, around like a shadow when they were both children. In the end, he had chosen Mariette over Ron.
After everything Ron had done for him—ungrateful brat.
“Wandering the country, only to end up back in Mariette’s arms, huh?”
More than any other news, this one made Ron’s stomach churn.
If Mariette had Hendrick Foy in her grasp, things could become quite complicated.
“The Foy family has long held the position of commander of the Imperial Knights. It’s not a good look for the heir of such a house to be trailing after Mariette.”
“Doesn’t the Foy family have a second son? Perhaps we could arrange for him to inherit the title and be appointed as an Imperial Knight.”
“The Foy family has such a sterling reputation that even the Imperial Family can’t meddle with them as they please.”
Ron let out a dissatisfied sigh.
“As long as Hendrick remains at Mariette’s side, it’ll be difficult to touch her. Right now, she doesn’t have any particular strengths—but no weaknesses either.”
Ober, standing beside him with a calm demeanor, spoke quietly.
But that weakness—was about to appear.
“The seed has been planted.”
“You mean Miss Emilia?”
“Correct.”
“Do you think Mariette will fall in line so easily?”
Ober only smiled faintly.
Since it was rare for him to smile, Ron found himself chuckling along without meaning to.
“You must have a good plan.”
“It’s nothing grand. Just…”
Ober recalled Mariette at the Loranga estate.
The way he looked at Emilia, his expression.
Even if he hadn’t realized it yet, Emilia had already become his weakness.
“The more scandalous a relationship, the more people want to see either a perfect happy ending—or a complete tragedy.”
Even the smallest amount of affection was enough.
The kind of love that makes one unable to bear seeing the other hurt—that tests one’s patience.
That would suffice.
“I plan to use that.”
To make Emilia Mariette’s weakness—that was all they needed.
*
At that moment, the hottest topic in Central was undeniably the scandal of Mariette and Emilia’s supposed secret rendezvous.
There hadn’t been a scandal this juicy in a long while, so everyone eagerly joined the chatter.
Even in the slums under the bridge, there wasn’t anyone who hadn’t heard about it.
“You’ve become a celebrity overnight!”
Hendrick teased, and Mariette shot him a sharp look.
“Be quiet.”
From across the table, Shane, who was eating with a bandaged shoulder, spoke up with displeasure.
The injury from the carriage incident was nearly healed.
“You managed to cement your image as a womanizing scoundrel, and now thanks to this, you’re being hailed as some kind of romantic hero.”
Mariette couldn’t lash out at an injured man, so he took it out on the steak in front of him, hacking it to pieces with his knife.
“‘From rake to hopeless romantic—what’s the story behind the Duke’s transformation?!’ Something like that? Ow!”
That said, Hendrick was perfectly healthy—and fair game.
Mariette smacked him hard on the head and clicked his tongue with a muttered grumble.
“I shouldn’t have saved you that day.”
Too late for regrets.
What’s done is done—and now it had to be dealt with.
He shoved a mouthful of meat into his mouth.
As Shane finished his meal of salad and soup, he asked:
“Today’s the day, isn’t it? For the final one. I was thinking of doubling the manpower.”
“Go ahead. They’re the kind who think the more booze and women, the better.”
Mariette looked thoroughly disgusted.
It had been fifteen days of nonstop debauchery.
As secretive as possible, on a large scale—and as obscene as they could manage.
Every night, parties of excess filled the Loranga estate.
Central’s noblemen flocked to it like moths to a flame.
“Disgusting scum. I should just kill them all.”
“Please don’t. The cleanup would be annoying. Just hold out one more day.”
Shane firmly cut him off.
Not that Mariette was serious about killing them.
He had only one person he truly wanted to kill.
“Yeah. Just that one bastard.”
*
That evening, after dinner, Hera—resting in her room—was summoned by none other than Ober Tollin.
He called for her alone, without Julian or Cecilia present.
“Emilia. Come here.”
Hera was led to Ober’s study and stood awkwardly before him.
He was wearing a robe and organizing books on the shelf.
There were easily thousands of books, all with complicated titles.
“Have you heard the news about Duke Loranga?”
Dust from the books filled the air, tickling Hera’s nose.
She covered it and asked,
“News… sir?”
“They say he’s been holding scandalous parties for fifteen straight days. It’s as if he brought an entire brothel into his estate.”
Hera’s heart dropped.
Her voice came out small and hesitant.
“Is that so…?”
Naturally, Ober had no interest in how she felt about it.
He stayed focused on rearranging the books as he issued his order:
“You’ll go.”
“…Excuse me?”
“In all of Central, who else but you has the standing to say something to the Duke about this behavior?”
Standing? What was he talking about?
Hera froze like a broken clock.
“Even if he is a Duke, he shouldn’t act so inconsiderately toward his lover.”
“Lover? Me?”
She couldn’t help but question it.
She had heard the rumors, of course, but didn’t expect Ober to speak of them as if they were fact.
Of all people, he should know how exaggerated the gossip was—and what kind of relationship really existed between her and Mariette.
Perhaps her dazed expression annoyed him, because he turned to look her up and down.
“What you’re wearing is fine. Head to the Loranga estate as you are.”
“But—!”
Hera took a step forward to protest.
“What am I supposed to say? There’s really nothing between His Grace and me—”
“Emilia.”
It was pointless resistance.
“You’ve gotten into a bad habit of making me repeat myself, haven’t you?”
The weather was still cold, even with a woolen robe and hood.
And the Loranga estate was quite far from the Tollin household—so by the time the carriage stopped out front, it was already late at night.
The butler, acting as coachman, opened the door and escorted Hera.
‘This is absurd…’
Only when she stood before the gate did reality hit her.
Just how ridiculous Ober Tollin’s order was.
‘What am I even supposed to say in there?’
They weren’t engaged. Not even lovers.
And the Duke hadn’t contacted her once—even while society was on fire with their scandal.
That told her clearly how uninterested he was in her.
Her shoulders slumped, her hood falling even lower over her face.
There was no guarantee the door would open—and even if it did, there was no guarantee Mariette wouldn’t treat her like an unwelcome guest.
‘No, that would be the best-case scenario, really.’
She’d rather go back and get scolded by Ober Tollin a thousand times over.
Just as she turned to leave, the butler reached past her and knocked on the gate’s handle.
The iron door creaked loudly, announcing the arrival of a visitor.
