Chapter 20
“Lady, would you care to go with me?”
“Yvonne, you’ve always gone with me before. You should do this time too, right?”
Ugh, this was exhausting. Without realising it, I grabbed my hair in both hands.
I was so done with this protagonist’s halo.
“Miss, please choose between these two. I think either would suit you best today.”
Marie’s eyes sparkled as she held up two dresses—one cream, one pink.
“Whichever.”
I yawned so wide my jaw almost cracked. Her face instantly darkened.
“‘Whichever’? You’re meeting Lord Richard today! You have to look your best!”
Apparently, when Richard came to visit during my house arrest, Marie had been deeply moved by our short stroll in the garden.
Now she’d already marked him as my future husband.
Well… I couldn’t blame her. Richard had the looks, the height, and the pedigree of a ducal heir — a perfect score on paper.
Two days ago, I received his letter saying he’d finally returned to the Ferronando Empire and would be visiting today.
But strangely, I didn’t feel any excitement. Maybe we were still too awkward.
“If he only likes me when I’m dressed up, he’s not worth it. I’ll just go as usual.”
“Oh! So you’re testing his true feelings!” Marie gasped, clearly impressed.
Well, maybe about thirty percent of that was true. Handsome and gentlemanly was a nice bonus. But honestly, I just couldn’t be bothered picking out a dress.
The one Marie chose was way too ornate and heavy — just wearing it made me tired.
So I scanned the wardrobe and grabbed the lightest thing I could find — a simple lavender dress.
By the time Richard was supposed to arrive, I was already waiting in the first-floor parlor.
“He’s here!”
Marie squealed as a carriage stopped outside.
She hurried to open the door to greet him—and I nearly choked when I saw who stepped out.
“What are you doing here?”
Raphael climbed down from the carriage, as casual as ever.
Why are you here?
I mentally combed through my schedule. Did I forget about an appointment with him? No.
After showing up out of nowhere and declaring we should “be close again,” he’d vanished for three whole days.
“I just wanted to see you.”
“You could’ve warned me.”
“We never needed to. We’ve always been that close.”
I laughed dryly. That was only acceptable before the breakup.
Ever since our engagement ended, he’d been acting weirdly gentle — his stiff, formal tone replaced by warmth.
For a second, I almost invited him inside. Almost.
But I wasn’t that naïve anymore.
“Go home. I’m expecting someone.”
“Who?”
The way he stared, as if trying to read my soul, made me look away.
And then — another carriage sound echoed outside.
“Why can’t you just say who it is?”
“Because it’s none of your business.”
The carriage stopped right in front of the mansion.
When the door opened, a man with shining platinum-blond hair stepped out.
“Welcome,” I greeted, a bit too brightly — very aware of Raphael’s eyes on me.
Richard smiled, handsome as ever, his silver hair glinting in the light.
Meanwhile, Raphael muttered under his breath,
“Platinum hair, huh…”
What’s that supposed to mean?
Richard approached, holding a bouquet — white lilies again — and smiled radiantly.
“It’s been a while, my lady. You’re as lovely as ever.”
“I’m well. How was your trip?”
“Terrible without you,” he said with that disarming grin.
My face almost melted. Almost — until I heard Raphael’s quiet scoff from beside me.
“And… who might this be?” Richard asked, his voice suddenly cool as his gaze swept Raphael from head to toe.
“My friend, Raphael of the House of Fobert. And he was just about to leave, weren’t you?”
“No.”
I subtly nudged his back to signal get out, but he didn’t budge — stiff as a statue.
Seriously, what was this obstinacy?
When I glared up at him, he wasn’t even looking at me. His gaze was locked on Richard.
Oh great. Don’t tell me this is turning into some rival love drama.
“Ah, a friend. Pleased to meet you. Richard of the Ducal House of Silven.”
To his credit, Richard stayed perfectly polite, bowing with a flawless smile.
And so, somehow, the three of us ended up in the sitting room — me in the middle, Raphael beside me, Richard across from us.
In the center of the table sat Richard’s bouquet of lilies, now in a crystal vase.
“You still like white lilies, I see,” Raphael said lightly.
Never mind that Richard was the one who’d brought them — Raphael looked ridiculously proud, as if he’d grown them himself.
Honestly, I was sick of lilies ever since the breakup. But I couldn’t exactly say that in front of the person who just gifted them.
“I like all flowers,” I hedged.
Raphael’s smirk widened. “It started when we were eight, right? I gave you lilies, and you’ve loved them ever since.”
Right. Definitely not a BL story.
Because Raphael wasn’t looking at Richard when he said that — he was looking at me.
Still, it was… confusing. Did friends normally get this possessive?
“Is that so?” Richard said coolly. “Then I’ll bring a different kind next time. What flower do you like, if not lilies?”
“Anything’s fine. Or you can just come empty-handed.”
“I could never visit you empty-handed, my lady,” he replied with a sweet smile — and I just knew that line was aimed at Raphael, who’d shown up with nothing.
The tension thickened. I could feel the temperature dropping by the second.
Maybe I should have forced Raphael to leave.
Thankfully, Marie came in with tea before things got any colder.
Hmm? That’s not black tea.
The color was yellow-green instead of the usual deep red.
I lifted the cup, sniffed it, and took a small sip — and promptly realized I had no clue what I was drinking.
“Chamomile,” Raphael said smoothly. “The Duke imported it last week.”
“…Really?”
I didn’t know that. Father only ever drank black tea.
“It’s the kind they serve at the Norbert Imperial Palace,” Richard added with a serene smile. “No wonder it tastes refined.”
Psychological warfare, I realized. He was showing off.
Still, the mention of “imperial tea” made me think it did taste a little better.
And somehow, the mood lightened — if only slightly.
“So, my lady,” Richard began again, “how long have you known… this gentleman?”
“Yvonne and I met when she was seven,” Raphael answered for me. “We became close at eight. So—what, thirteen years now?”
“Old friends, then,” Richard said evenly. “Just friends.”
“Friends who were once engaged,” Raphael countered.
“But not anymore,” Richard shot back with a thin smile, his teeth flashing.
Of course. He must’ve heard about the broken engagement from Nathan.
And judging by his reaction, he’d come prepared.
“And a count’s son speaking so informally—are you not showing disrespect to a lady of rank?” Richard added.
Raphael’s tone cooled. “We’ve always been close. Besides, Yvonne likes it when I talk to her comfortably.”
The air froze solid.
At that point, there was only one thing left for me to do.
My Doomed Love Is Entertaining – Episode 60
(Excerpt)
“Lady, how have you been?”
“Fine.”
“The sunlight is warm today. Would you like to walk in the garden?”
“I don’t know.”
Eight-year-old Raphael faltered.
Three days ago, he’d followed every rule — sent a formal letter requesting permission to visit, and even brought a colorful bouquet.
But Yvonne didn’t so much as glance his way. She only stared out the window.
Did I do something wrong?
He looked down at his clothes — spotless, freshly pressed, no dirt, no smell.
He’d begged his father for this new outfit, the most fashionable style of the season.
It had only been a month since her mother’s passing.
During that time, they had grown close — or so he’d thought.
Now he felt foolish for assuming.
“Did I upset you somehow? If I did, please tell me. I’ll fix it.”
His small voice trembled. Even at eight, time with her was the happiest part of his life.
Still, he blamed himself for overreaching — a count’s son daring to hope for the attention of a duke’s daughter.
Yet even then, he couldn’t stop himself from casting a little magic on the white lily sitting on her desk, making it bloom brighter.
He just wanted her to smile.
“I thought we were best friends,” Yvonne finally said, turning to him.
His heart leapt. He’d thought so too — though part of him dreaded what she might say next.
“But why do you always speak so formally to me?”
“Because… it’s only proper, my lady.”
A pause — then, unexpectedly, she giggled.
“My mother said that people who are really close talk casually. Are you still uncomfortable with me?”
“N-no.”
“Then talk casually. And don’t call me lady. Call me Yvonne.”
“…Okay, Yvonne.”
They smiled at each other, sunlight streaming in through the window.
And Raphael thought — this must be the happiest moment of my life.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
“What is it?”
“I like white lilies more than yellow tulips.”
“I’ll remember that.”
After that day, Raphael never had to send letters before visiting.
People envied how easily the young count’s son could speak to the duke’s daughter.
It was his one and only privilege.
And that was why, years later, when he looked Richard in the eye and said—
“Friends who were once engaged.”
—it wasn’t out of affection.
It was out of pride.
Pride in a privilege he didn’t realize he’d already lost.
[Comments]
→ The heroine spoiled him too much.
→ No, the real problem is that he grew up spoiled! 😂
→ So what did Yvonne say to them afterward??
→ Ughhh why didn’t she just throw Raphael out again?!
