DBMDC~05

Chapter 5

 A Walk at Night

It was a night where the stars shone with startling clarity.

Leonardo knew he was far too late to properly attend the ball, yet the carriage bearing the crest of House Devonshire arrived at the Imperial Palace all the same. Based on long experience, the festivities would undoubtedly continue until dawn.

By now, there were probably already drunken fools stumbling around.

With a trace of mockery in his thoughts, Leonardo ordered the carriage to stop some distance away from the banquet hall.

Choosing to walk through the gardens had been something of an impulsive decision.

After spending days moving between trains and carriages, his body felt stiff, and since he was already late, there was no reason to hurry.

Giving himself over to an inexplicable whim, he began to enjoy a leisurely walk beneath the night sky.

Bathed in dim moonlight, the garden felt utterly still, a stark contrast to the brightly illuminated banquet hall glowing in the distance.

Quiet. Peaceful.

At the end of a relentlessly exhausting day, it felt like indulging in a stolen moment of rest.

That was why his pace gradually slowed.

Savoring the silence, Leonardo wandered through the garden, his gaze lingering one by one on the white marble statues positioned at measured intervals.

Gods of myth carved in human form. Great historical figures. Illustrious members of the imperial family who had upheld Stern’s legacy.

And among them—

Leonardo’s lips twisted crookedly when he spotted one sculpture so ridiculous it bordered on offensive.

“No matter how generously I judge this… absolutely not.”

On the bronze plaque below was engraved the Crown Prince’s absurdly long full name in elegant script.

Traveling the continent like some carefree vagabond—fine, he could overlook that.

But to commission a statue of himself by attaching his own face to the body of the ancient historical hero Tiberion and send it back?

That was a crime against humanity.

And yet, after seeing the letter and gift the Crown Prince had sent, Queen Adelhardt II and Isabella had laughed for ages, delighted that it had brightened their otherwise dull days.

Both women, Leonardo was convinced, lost all rational judgment where that lunatic was concerned.

“Tch.”

That narcissistic freak.

He understood, a hundred times over, the prince’s obsession with ancient art.

But why in this way?

Suppressing the urge to smash the statue into pieces, Leonardo turned away.

Better not to look at it at all.

With each step, the irritation faded little by little.

Having regained some measure of peace, he considered finally heading toward the banquet hall.

And then—

A woman’s scream echoed through the garden.

Leonardo frowned and turned toward the sound.

It was not uncommon.

A drunken gentleman forgetting dignity, honor, and basic decency.

Honestly… perhaps a narcissist intoxicated with himself was preferable to a piece of trash ruled entirely by instinct.

For a brief moment, his opinion of the Crown Prince improved.

Again came the woman’s voice—struggling, protesting, demanding to be let go.

The sound grated unpleasantly against his nerves.

He hated troublesome situations.

Yet, unable to ignore it entirely, Leonardo changed direction, lengthening his stride toward the secluded corner of the garden hidden behind tall hedges.

What he found there, however, was nowhere near what he had expected.

Moonlight spilled across the dim garden.

A man and woman seated side by side on a bench.

The woman leaning against the man’s shoulder.

A carefully styled updo, now slightly disheveled despite obvious effort.

And bright green eyes widened like those of a startled rabbit.

That woman…

So she had finally entered society.

Leonardo narrowed his eyes, quickly piecing together the scene before him.

Apparently, he had misjudged things.

He had assumed some shameless bastard was forcing himself on an unwilling woman.

But Ariel von Rosenberg—

Had she simply been playing coy?

She had grown into quite the sly little fox.

“My apologies.”

Tilting his head slightly in polite acknowledgment of interrupting their private moment, Leonardo turned to leave.

But Ariel suddenly sprang to her feet and grabbed him by the wrist.

“I-It’s a misunderstanding!”

“What is?”

“I mean… what you’re thinking right now!”

The woman, who moments earlier had stammered, suddenly burst out as though she had read his mind.

Leonardo’s gaze drifted lazily toward the man rising from the bench.

Hmm.

It certainly didn’t look like a misunderstanding.

Unless the woman herself was unusually oblivious.

Having arrived at a neat conclusion, he curled one corner of his lips upward.

“There’s no need to explain yourself to me.”

He smiled faintly.

“Please, continue enjoying your evening.”

Ariel’s mind went blank.

The man who had been absent from the royal audience and invisible throughout the ball had suddenly appeared as though dropped from the heavens.

Everyone had said the Duke of Devonshire wasn’t attending tonight.

And yet—

No matter how much she blinked, the man standing before her was unmistakably Leonardo von Devonshire, the same man splashed endlessly across newspapers and gossip columns.

Still.

Whatever the case—

Trying desperately to gather her scattered thoughts, Ariel reached out and stopped him once again.

“Wait.”

Leonardo, not even having taken a single step, looked back at her.

“Clear up the misunderstanding before you go,” she said stiffly.

“It would be troublesome if strange rumors spread.”

“There’s no need to worry.”

His casual voice differed sharply from the idle curiosity of gossipmongers eager to feast on scandal.

And yet the look in his eyes still carried the same assumption about her relationship with Valentin.

He simply regarded it with indifference.

Like something beneath his interest.

“I doubt I can stop worrying just because you tell me not to.”

The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them.

Even Ariel herself startled at her own sharpness.

Beside her, Valentin silently stared at her as though asking, What are you doing?

But she couldn’t stop.

“How am I supposed to trust the words of Duke Devonshire, of all people?”

At the remark, which so blatantly reminded him of the relationship between Devonshire and Rosenberg, one of Leonardo’s brows twitched upward.

Then lowered.

Slowly, one corner of his mouth slanted upward.

Blue eyes sharp enough to pierce through skin settled on her.

Their gazes tangled in silence.

It felt difficult to breathe.

Still, Ariel refused to look away.

Why she was provoking him so boldly, even she herself didn’t know.

She had imagined this moment countless times.

Once she debuted in society, what expression should she wear when they met again?

Yet in every imagined scene, his face remained frustratingly blurred.

No answer had ever come.

As though trapped inside an unsolvable riddle.

And now, standing before reality—

She finally understood.

Her position was no different from her father’s.

Devonshire and Rosenberg would continue hating one another forever.

“Don’t forget.”

That was when the memory surfaced.

A forgotten voice breaking through the surface like a fish leaping from dark water.

Droplets sliding down the stem of blue forget-me-nots.

The lingering dissonance of music in the air.

A brilliant boy smiling shamelessly before a grand piano after utterly ruining his performance.

A dazzling memory from one summer afternoon.

Too small, too insignificant to even call nostalgia.

To him, it had likely been nothing more than one meaningless day among countless others.

So why had it remained so vivid for her?

Perhaps because she had foolishly pressed the flower he gave her between the pages of a book.

Or perhaps because his voice—

Don’t forget.

Had lingered like a curse.

The man who had swept into her life for a fleeting instant, beautiful enough to resemble a devil tempting foolish mortals, had spent the years afterward treating House Rosenberg with ruthless indifference.

And the colder reality became, the more Ariel had no choice but to accept the truth.

It meant nothing.

Just one passing day among countless others.

After years of repeating that spell to herself—

The devil standing before her was still infuriatingly attractive.

Far more so than newspapers or gossip columns could ever capture.

Leonardo finally broke the silence.

“You seem to know quite a bit about me.”

“How could I not?”

Hoping the darkness concealed the warmth spreading across her flushed cheeks, Ariel lifted her chin proudly.

“You clash with my father at every possible opportunity.”

“That is unfortunate,” Leonardo replied smoothly.

“I simply happen to have many business ventures.”

“Business rivals don’t usually humiliate each other this childishly.”

“And tell me.”

His gaze sharpened.

“Has any kind businessman become more successful than Devonshire?”

“….”

Faced with a question from the wealthiest man on the continent, Ariel found herself speechless.

“And from what I’ve seen,” he added mildly, “Count Rosenberg seems equally talented at tearing others down.”

“—!”

It struck like her own words returning as a boomerang.

Ariel’s face flushed scarlet.

Watching the vivid transformation, Leonardo smiled faintly.

A victor’s smile.

Cornered by humiliation, Ariel raised her voice in one final protest.

“That only proves you’re exactly the kind of person who’d spread rumors about me to the gossip papers!”

Apparently, once he had won, he saw no need to continue.

Instead of answering, Leonardo simply narrowed his eyes with unreadable amusement and lifted one hand beside his face, gesturing lightly.

Confused, Ariel reached instinctively toward her hair.

And then—

She found it.

Her carefully styled hair had become slightly disheveled.

Closing her eyes in mortification, Ariel’s cheeks turned even redder than before.

The reaction was unexpectedly adorable.

Leonardo nearly laughed again.

Having thoroughly overwhelmed his opponent, he turned to leave, his gaze brushing briefly over the man standing beside Ariel.

Wasn’t that the younger brother of Count Cayenne?

Unfortunate.

A second son never really stood a chance.

Feeling a touch of pity for the poor fellow, even that unpleasant glare suddenly seemed easier to tolerate.