Chapter 15
It happened during a noisy drinking party that went on until late at night.
Rohwinas Canesion, sitting alone with a bored look, overheard a conversation from the next table.
“Of course I told her off. I said, ‘How dare the disgrace of high society show her face here?’”
“And then?”
“She looked like she was in a hurry. She told me to follow her to the terrace.”
The drunk noble bragged, his face red.
“But you know, cheap women aren’t my taste. What could she do?”
“Ha! You should’ve just gone along once. Honestly, I’m curious.”
“Yeah, she is pretty, though.”
The man leaned back in his chair and shrugged proudly.
“What’s so pretty about her?”
“You’re just pretending. Come on, when Rohwinas Canesion fell head over heels for her, didn’t we all think it was understandable?”
“Right. Some of us were tempted too, but we were just a step too late.”
“Honestly, just between us, that woman—”
Their voices lowered suddenly, heads bent together. A burst of crude laughter followed, clearly from some nasty joke.
“…But that’s strange, Vervati.”
One man who had been quiet spoke up.
“What do you mean?”
“What’s strange?”
“Shut up and drink!”
The guilty-looking man slammed his glass, but it was too late. The others’ attention had shifted.
The quiet man smirked and said mockingly:
“What I heard is different. I heard you were the one flirting with her, then got hung up on a tree—unconscious.”
“What? Is that true?”
“Can a noble man live without shame after that? Can’t even handle one woman?”
The man jumped up in fury, shouting:
“Lies! I stayed on the terrace for so long because with that baroness—!”
And then—
“Enough.”
A cold, sharp noble voice cut through the air.
Everyone froze.
They turned, and their shoulders stiffened.
Rohwinas Canesion had been sitting right there all along.
They had even spoken his name out loud earlier. Who would have thought a Count, the third son of a Duke, would be quietly drinking alone nearby?
Silence fell.
But in every group, there’s always one fool who doesn’t notice.
“Ah, Count! I didn’t know you were here. Please, join us for a drink!”
“…”
The man seemed unaware of the deadly quiet around him.
“What does it matter? You already have someone better than that woman. You can forgive a woman you’ve already—”
Rohwinas rose slowly.
The drunkard blinked up at him. His face was hidden in shadow, unreadable.
“What, are you upset about this? Won’t Lady Peregrine throw a fit if she finds out? Don’t underestimate women’s jealousy—it’s terrible—”
Someone shoved the drunk’s shoulder, panicked.
“Stop it! Count, forgive him. He’s drunk, he doesn’t mean—”
“But really, a man like you doesn’t have to care about—ugh!”
Rohwinas’s fist flew without warning.
The man crashed across the table, glass shattering, furniture overturning.
“Wha—”
“Count!”
Gasps filled the hall, but Rohwinas ignored them.
He pulled off his cravat, rolled up his sleeves, and walked toward the fallen man.
Everyone froze at his clear, dangerous intent.
“Count, please—”
But Rohwinas picked up a broken glass, clenched it in his fist, and struck.
Blood spattered.
Choked groans came from beneath his grip.
It looked like he might kill him.
No one dared step in.
At last, one noble ran forward.
“Count! Please, forgive him! He’s been unconscious for a while now. Please, stop!”
Rohwinas finally pulled back, breathing heavily. The others dragged the unconscious man away.
Rohwinas looked down at his own hand, blood dripping from the broken glass. He simply shook it off and let the shards fall.
The nobles bowed.
“Forgive us, Count. If you wish, we’ll apologize to Lady Peregrine as well.”
“I never want to see that man again.”
“…Understood.”
And with that, Rohwinas left. Cold, detached, as though nothing had happened.
When the others looked around, it was as if a storm had ripped through. Broken tables, overturned chairs, blood on the floor.
Someone whispered:
“They said he’s sensitive when it comes to Lady Peregrine. It’s true.”
“He protects her so fiercely. But it’s been four years since they got engaged—why no wedding yet?”
“Maybe he’s letting her spend more time with her family.”
“She is very close to her brother, I hear.”
“Still… he never used to be so short-tempered.”
“It’s like he’s a different person.”
“Forget it. Get a doctor. And you fools, who gossips about that in front of him?”
The servants cleaned up. The party continued, as if nothing happened.
After all, a minor noble being beaten by a Duke’s son wasn’t considered a big deal. That was reality.
Rohwinas had once thrown it all away for a woman. Many had predicted disaster then. Luckily for them, he had returned to his rightful place.
Outside, waiting for his carriage, Rohwinas pulled out a silver case. His hand was still bloody as he lit a cigarette.
The hot summer night was suffocating. Even the faint moonlight, the empty streets, the noise from afar—all of it irritated him.
The familiar headache throbbed. He smoked deeply, then exhaled in frustration.
“Where to, my lord?”
The coachman asked carefully.
Rohwinas hesitated.
Where to?
“I’ll be waiting.”
The memory stabbed at him. His jaw tightened.
“…Damn it.”
“Sir, Lady Peregrine is still waiting.”
He shot a sharp look at his servant, then turned.
“Take me there.”
He climbed into the carriage, his face emptied of all emotion.
I swallowed nervously as a man entered the tent.
He wore round glasses, bowed to the old man, then glanced at me. A servant, maybe.
And then, the entrance flap opened again.
A tall man bent down to step inside. His slim, well-built body, his golden hair—it was instantly familiar.
He brushed his hair back casually and lifted his head.
His eyes passed his servant—who was staring blankly—and landed straight on me.
His face froze cold.
“…”
“…”
I could see it. He wanted to ignore me, to pretend I wasn’t there.
My throat went dry. In that moment, I craved a glass of strong liquor more than anything.
Feeling my eyelids tremble, I forced myself to rise.
The old man’s shamelessly curious stare didn’t bother me anymore.
“Count,” I said calmly.
“It has been a long time.”
“How have you been?”
