Chapter 56:
This situation was nothing short of a disaster for Hugo.
He trudged along the line of carriages, following it endlessly.
But the line didn’t end—it looped around the fountain and continued all the way down a back alley. Street vendors were gleefully calling out to nobles, offering tea and refreshments.
Even after checking again, there was no mistake—every single one of those carriages was familiar to Hugo.
They all belonged to his clients.
“This is ridiculous.”
Hugo’s eyes flashed sharply as he stepped into Éclair.
“Master!”
As soon as he entered, the employees rushed over to block the doorway.
“Something terrible has happened!”
“What about the goods?”
“Master, this time we really need the goods to arrive!”
The head managers from each floor surrounded Hugo, badgering him relentlessly.
He let out a hollow laugh as he looked around the empty Éclair. What on earth had happened?
The first floor had always been crowded, with attendants queued up for reservations. It was a familiar sight—ladies’ maids standing stiffly in line with their chins held high.
But now? The place was spotless, the display spots for merchandise were empty, and there wasn’t a single customer in sight.
“Master! Is it true the shipment never came in?”
“Is it true you were attacked by pirates?”
“We heard it was swept away in a typhoon—was that true?”
No one seemed concerned about Hugo himself. They were only afraid of losing their jobs.
“Ha…”
He searched every floor for customers, but found no one other than his own staff.
“My customers…”
With bloodshot eyes, he stormed back down to the first floor and crossed the street—straight into Mont, which was packed to the brim.
The same attendants who used to line up stiffly at Éclair were now waiting in Mont for their mistresses.
“Move!”
“Please wait in line!”
The attendants quickly realized he was Hugo Ronald, owner of Éclair, and stepped aside.
Hugo stomped inside Mont, only to see an utterly unexpected person.
“What the—!”
“Oh my, Hugo?”
Layla was on the first floor, greeting customers. People no longer treated her carelessly—because of her and the person standing beside her.
“You! Why are you selling goods identical to mine…!”
Hugo realized the items displayed on the first floor were nearly identical to the ones that had been stolen from him by pirates. But the pirates had been men.
How could this be?
And how could Layla possibly be the owner of this place?
Even if she had spent her entire dowry, there was no way she could open such a salon. Besides, there were rumors that all the pirates who had stolen his goods had drowned.
And salons could only be opened by those with a certain level of recognition in high society.
Layla’s reputation had long been in the gutter. Siever had tirelessly spread bad rumors about her, so even women who only knew her by hair color would join in the gossip.
Noblemen she had broken off engagements with, men she had rejected, and ex-lovers had all piled on with insults.
Layla had been nothing more than a piece of gossip in high society—a skeleton with no flesh, amusing to talk about. People envied her pink hair while mocking her.
It had even become a saying that women with pink hair were the most jealous.
And yet, here was Layla.
How?
“What’s with these knockoffs, Layla?”
He angrily pointed at a painting by Dvinne.
“Hugo, do you have an invitation? Or a pass?”
“What? I’m asking you what the hell is going on—are your ears blocked?”
Hugo snapped at her, ignoring the stares around them.
“How does a penniless woman like you afford to display such expensive items? Did you go begging to Sonnet again?”
“Not worth answering. Get out.”
Layla gave him a cold look and gestured. The newly hired guards—actually Rainier’s men—moved in around Hugo.
“Where did you get all this money? A woman with such a pitiful dowry—how!?”
“I told you to leave.”
“Is it Sonnet Bruce? Did that bastard tell you he’d pay if you behaved sweetly?”
“Leave while I’m asking nicely.”
“Everyone, listen! Layla Abier is broke! She can’t afford any of this—it’s all fake!”
His shout drew everyone’s attention.
“Oh my…”
The one who reacted was—
“Lady Weimar!”
It was the Weimar young lady, who had been on her way downstairs with her friends to look at the new tea sets.
“Why are you here? You said you’d make Éclair your salon!”
Hugo demanded, but Lady Weimar descended gracefully from the lift and stood beside Layla.
“Repeat what you just said to Lady Layla.”
“Pardon?”
“To Lady Layla—who isn’t even married yet—you just uttered what kind of insult?”
“Ah… My lady, I-I’m fine…”
Layla lowered her gaze sadly, taking the hand that gripped her shoulder. She trembled slightly before looking at Lady Weimar, as if to say Look, I’m crying.
Then she noticed something—Lady Weimar’s eyes were bright red. But in the next moment, as she looked at Layla, they turned a natural blue again.
“…?”
Lady Weimar leaned in and whispered,
“Shh.”
For a moment, Layla felt as though she were looking at Rainier. Yet the clothes, build, voice, hair, and features were undeniably Lady Weimar’s.
She glanced toward Rainier—masked, standing nearby—and for some reason, he looked strangely unattractive.
Rainier had always been impossibly beautiful, his face unhideable even by a mask. But now, even with the mask, there was an odd plainness to him.
“It’s true! Layla has no money! She didn’t buy any of this—she got all her money from men!”
“Hugo, stop.”
“She was like that even when we were engaged! It was all about the money!”
“When did I ever?”
Layla realized the woman beside her wasn’t really Lady Weimar, so she no longer felt the need to restrain her temper. Lady Weimar would never look at her with such sticky affection.
She met those eyes again, saw Rainier’s smile, the way they curved like a crescent moon—and saw that vivid red once more, as if assuring her.
Layla thought, Rain really isn’t an ordinary person.
“Hey, Eichmann told me you went all the way with him! He said he broke up with you because you got pregnant!”
“That’s funny. Eichmann never even held my hand.”
“D-Don’t lie.”
“And your logic is strange. If that were true, shouldn’t the one criticized be Eichmann, not me? I wasn’t the one who abandoned someone over a child.”
“That’s true.”
The Rainier-disguised Lady Weimar agreed, making Hugo falter.
“Are you justifying your reckless behavior?”
“I’ve got nothing to hide. I’ve never done such things. Meanwhile, you kissed my sister Siever while you were dating me.”
“Hey! That’s because you kept rejecting me!”
Hugo glared at her.
“If you’d just kissed me once in a while—acted like you did with Eichmann—I wouldn’t have gone to Siever! It’s your fault!”
“If I’d done those things with Eichmann, then it would’ve been easy with you too. But you were the first person I ever held hands with, Hugo.”
Those words made Hugo doubt all the rumors he’d heard—
“Layla’s easy.”
“She’ll agree to marry you if you treat her halfway decent.”
“She’s loose, but at least she’s pretty.”
In truth, Layla had never initiated physical contact with anyone—except Sonnet.
“Then what the hell did I hear? I know all the things you’ve done!”
“You were my lover once, yet you never believed me.”
“You have to act believable to be believed!”
“No—you treated me like a joke because you were meeting Siever on the side.”
Layla lifted her chin, glaring straight at him.
“You assumed I was disgusting because you were.”
“I agree with Lady Layla. She’s not the type to do such things—at least from what I’ve seen.”
“…My lady.”
Lady Weimar gripped Layla’s shoulder and glanced around, making sure everyone heard.
That alone drew everyone’s attention to them—Layla, Hugo, and Lady Weimar.
“On the name of the Weimar ducal house, I guarantee that every item here is genuine. I tested them all myself on the first day.”
Then she raised her voice.
“And! From now on, any insult toward my dear friend Lady Layla will be treated as an insult toward me personally!”
