18.
I climbed into the carriage with renewed resolve.
The wheels shook as the carriage began to move.
The issue now was that appointment letter.
The one Duke Ishtan Gladinare had personally secured from the Emperor, stamped with the imperial seal after a private audience.
Honestly, that alone was enough to cause a huge stir among the nobles.
And of all people, the one chosen was a baroness with a troublesome reputation.
Among nobles, lacking public support was a fatal flaw.
What bothered me more than anything was the duke’s true intention.
Because Duke Gladinare had drunk the potion.
That fact meant something very clear.
The current Emperor wasn’t interested in choosing sides or fighting the noble faction. His neglect made it hard for nobles to unite. Instead, the aristocracy was split into countless small factions, each chasing its own interests.
In such a situation, the young duke—already at the center of a new power bloc thanks to his early rise and impressive military record—had chosen me of all people as his direct aide.
Even the Emperor had given way to him on this matter.
But it wasn’t exactly good for the duke either.
He risked becoming the target of fierce political attacks.
And if things grew beyond his ability to control…?
When I had last visited, the duke himself had asked if I’d come “because of the appointment.” That meant he knew, at least, that what he’d done wasn’t exactly sensible.
Just because he drank the potion didn’t mean he had turned into a fool.
…Or had he?
Was this the level of someone too sick to judge clearly anymore?
I was still turning the thought over when the carriage arrived at its destination.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped down.
Convincing him would not be easy.
The duke was just leaving his mansion when he turned his head and noticed me.
The motion was as natural as if he were simply catching the breeze, but his eyes showed no surprise when they found me.
I gave him a small bow.
He left his carriage behind and walked over.
In the morning sunlight, his hair shone with a striking red.
Not faded, not darkened by shadow—pure, complete red that caught the eye.
Maybe it drew me in because human hair rarely kept such an untainted color. Normally, other shades crept in.
I found myself staring.
“Baroness.”
The duke gave a faint smile. His straight posture, with his hands clasped calmly behind his back, radiated restraint.
He stopped at a distance—close, but not close enough to touch—and asked,
“What brings you here?”
His tone carried no trace of irritation at my unannounced arrival.
“Your Grace.”
I felt the weight of his attentive gaze.
Clearing my throat, I asked the question I had prepared.
“Didn’t you want to see me?”
I was ready for anything—displeasure, denial, suspicion.
After all, unless we spoke this truth out loud, our conversation would only skim the surface.
But the duke looked at me with the stillness of an old tree. His expression didn’t shift at all.
So much so that I began to feel embarrassed for asking.
Well, of course. Even when he had drunk the potion, he hadn’t so much as twitched an eyebrow. Why would he flinch now, at such a simple question?
He lowered his gaze for a moment, then asked calmly, his hands still folded behind his back,
“So you’ve finished sorting out your thoughts?”
It seemed he was more interested in my intentions than in the words themselves.
In every way, he was a man detached from his own feelings.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Then what kind of answer do you want?”
So he didn’t intend to refuse outright.
“The truth.”
Just then, his aide—who had been glaring at me with thinly veiled disapproval—glanced at his pocket watch and finally strode toward us, probably worried I was delaying their schedule.
But the duke, who must have noticed him sooner than I did, kept his eyes fixed firmly on me.
“I did want to see you.”
The aide froze mid-step. His face went pale, proof he’d heard it clearly.
His shocked gaze stabbed the back of the duke’s head before he quickly looked away.
But the duke kept watching me.
“Very much so.”
“…”
“I always have.”
His voice was low and quiet.
I was the one who had asked, but now my face felt uncomfortably hot.
The aide drew closer, coughing repeatedly, trying to cut in.
The duke paid him no mind.
“Is that an answer, Baroness?”
“…Yes. More than enough.”
The aide jumped on the pause.
“Your Grace, we must leave now.”
“Would you like to ride with us?” the duke asked me.
I nodded, not even knowing where he was headed.
I still had more to say, and he could drop me along the way.
The aide gave me a sharp look, but when I deliberately met his eyes, he turned away quickly.
That was normal. The strange one here was Duke Gladinare.
I followed him toward the carriage.
His steady back, never turning even once, felt like the measure of his restraint.
He says he wanted to see me, but he won’t look back even once?
If anything, it was the aide who couldn’t stop sneaking glances at me.
There were still so many puzzling things about the duke.
But I couldn’t forget the golden spray of light and foam I’d seen in front of his eyes.
There was no other explanation.
The carriage door opened. When I looked up, the duke was holding out his hand.
I stared at his gloved hand for a moment, and he lowered it.
“My apologies.”
“No, it’s not that—”
“Let’s speak after we set off,” the aide interrupted again.
I looked at him, but he avoided my eyes, staring off into the distance.
In truth, he was probably from a house far grander than mine. In terms of rank, it wasn’t strange if he looked down on me.
So I kept quiet and stepped into the carriage.
The duke followed and sat across from me.
Most dukes traveled in grand coaches, pulled by four horses at the very least. But he used an ordinary carriage.
Because of that, when he bent his legs to sit, his knees briefly bumped mine.
I quickly pulled back and pressed myself against the seat, but he blinked awkwardly and shuffled back as far as he could.
Still, his long legs left little room.
In the end, my legs ended up gathered neatly between his.
I tugged at the hem of my dress to cover my discomfort.
The aide tried to climb in as well, but the duke caught the door with one hand, raising an eyebrow.
“Your Grace?”
“You’ll ride on horseback.”
“Eh? But—”
The door slammed shut in his face.
The duke’s refusal was sharp and absolute.
The carriage jolted into motion. Each bump made our knees touch again.
When I tried to shift my leg, the tip of my shoe slipped and tapped against his boot.
“…”
“…”
For the first time, a shared awkwardness settled between us.
“It won’t take long. I ask for your patience.”
“Yes, of course.”
After that, he stayed silent, gazing out the window.
I found myself staring at him again.
I’d heard the phrase “broad as a door,” but this was the first time I’d met a man who filled a whole carriage.
The same size carriage I usually rode in now seemed small only because of him.
Every time the wheels jolted, his head brushed the ceiling.
Watching him, I began to wonder if this carriage was secretly made for children.
“With your build, maybe you should use a larger carriage,” I said lightly.
The duke lowered his eyes, as if unable to meet mine, and murmured,
“…I’ll keep that in mind.”
I hadn’t meant it as scolding.
Trying to lighten the air, I added,
“Do you usually ride with your aide inside too?”
I suddenly pictured the aide earlier, trying to squeeze in with us.
But I regretted the question immediately.
Because the moment I imagined the three of us squeezed together in this tight space, I accidentally met the duke’s eyes.
