Chapter 19
“My life is precious. Don’t act recklessly.”
My soaked body began to shiver. I wrapped my arms around myself and let out a small laugh.
“Damn it. If you’re going to act this cruel, why even ask me to dance?”
The joy and happiness I had felt while dancing with him had now turned into a humiliating, terrible memory.
To think I almost opened my heart because he had pretended to be kind for a moment—was I really that naive?
“Ha! Absolutely not. That wasn’t my feeling.”
I blamed the owner of this body—Clarissa—and straightened my slumped posture. Damon had told me to go home, but I had no intention of doing so.
As I retraced my steps, Miranda approached.
“Madam, where on earth have you been? Oh my! You’re soaking wet.”
While I had briefly looked away and disappeared, Miranda had been searching for me through the pouring rain, coat in hand.
“You’re wet too, Miranda.”
“I’m fine. Please put on this coat.”
She draped the coat over my drenched body, her expression full of concern.
“Even if you’re soaked, don’t give up. You should also put on the coat.”
I insisted on wearing my own clothes and slipped my arms into the coat. Once I pulled the hood over my head, I walked toward the greenhouse instead of the mansion.
This was where Damon and Valentine had secretly planned to meet.
“Let’s get this divorce over with—today. Right now.”
I walked through the rain, doing my best to maintain grace. Failing to do so would ruin not only my pride but also my mood.
The engagement eve party, moved to the central hall of the mansion, had become a dull affair, with eating and drinking attempting to lift the mood.
Before dinner even began, guests were getting drunk, and the ladies’ makeup was smeared and noses red. Some had even dozed off in the corners.
Disgusted with the chaotic atmosphere, Valentine left the banquet hall with Damon.
Damon acted as a guide, leading Valentine through corridors hidden from the servants’ eyes. Once outside the mansion, Damon headed for the greenhouse, followed by Valentine.
The greenhouse was filled with warm air and the fragrant scent of flowers.
“Interesting. Even though the Lakton house has no lady of the manor, the greenhouse is well-kept.”
Valentine looked around, slightly bewildered. Considering the house was of a knightly lineage and Duke Lakton’s aggressive personality, he hadn’t expected such care and attention to a greenhouse.
“The butler, Baron Faber Mersium, has carefully tended the greenhouse,” Damon explained.
“Ah, the baron’s daughter-in-law? So she must resemble him in appearance and temperament—neat and calm. Then she must like flowers too, right?”
Damon frowned at the mention of Clarissa.
“She prefers dolls to flowers. I think His Highness Valentine had prepared a doll as her engagement gift, but she wasn’t feeling well and returned early.”
“She’s unwell? That’s serious. If not for the engagement eve party, I’d have gone to the Middletown mansion myself to check and call a physician.”
Though Valentine displayed excessive concern and care for Clarissa, Damon’s expression remained unchanged. Valentine was intrigued by this stoic man—Damon Craig.
Did he have no feeling for his beautiful, beloved wife? No… how could he not? It was beyond comprehension.
“If my concern for your wife is too much, tell me. I do not wish to be your enemy.”
“No matter the circumstances, Your Highness, I cannot be your enemy.”
“Even if I desire your wife?”
Valentine’s words revealed blatant possessiveness.
Damon avoided answering, turning his gaze to the white flowers. They were lilies, their heavy-looking blooms bent under their own weight.
Despite their beauty and fragrance, the flowers bowed their heads, looking somehow sad.
A fleeting image of Clarissa crouched in the pouring rain came to Damon’s mind.
And that’s why he was still irritated. Who are you to interfere with my affairs? You’re nothing to me. Maybe it’s better if you didn’t exist.
While dancing with Clarissa, his resolve had faltered, bringing him to the point where he couldn’t even obtain the grimoire.
He had to restore the honor of his annihilated family and avenge his wrongfully killed father, mother, and sister—but he had let a mere woman and his emotions distract him.
Damon wanted to rip his heart out and smash it against stone. He wanted to tear at his hair in deep regret. Containing all that emotion made his eyelids burn.
He wanted to rid himself of this inconvenient, obstructive feeling immediately.
“Do you wish to take my wife? Then go ahead.”
“…Baron Craig! Why would you say such a thing? Could it truly mean that you would give your wife to me?”
Valentine’s words had implied he might appoint Clarissa as his secretary. But Damon’s response sounded as though Valentine could take her as he pleased.
It would have been better if Valentine hadn’t heard. He was furious on Clarissa’s behalf.
“Think carefully before speaking. Words once spoken cannot be taken back, Damon Craig.”
Clarissa was special to Valentine.
Their bond had begun when she saved him from a horse startled by a wolf. Even after saving his life, she had never demanded reward or acknowledgment.
It was unfamiliar to Valentine. Throughout his life, people had always demanded something of him.
His father, the emperor, constantly burdened him with tasks and expected perfect results.
His brothers demanded money whenever they visited.
Nobles asked for tax reductions, and noblewomen sent countless invitations for him to attend tea parties to honor them.
Foreign diplomacy, social gatherings, relief for the poor—he had grown weary of constant demands.
Yet Clarissa demanded nothing—not even a letter. She was pleased merely by his safe recovery.
Perhaps that was why Valentine came to trust her.
“I’ll ask again. Do you mean that I may take your wife?”
Valentine asked, somewhat agitated, to confirm Damon’s sincerity.
“If His Highness Valentine wishes it, do as you please. I never needed a wife to begin with.”
Not because he disliked Clarissa, but because he needed no other woman, Damon nodded firmly.
“Then proceed with a formal divorce and release Clarissa. Can you do that?”
“…I will do so once Your Highness marries Princess Aileen.”
“My wedding is next year, as you know.”
Valentine frowned, swallowing the thought that the marriage might end in cancellation. Damon seemed reluctant to release her despite claiming he didn’t need a wife, raising suspicion.
“Baron Craig, given the marriage is practically ruined, wouldn’t it be better to release the baroness, who is suffering, as soon as possible?”
“I will endeavor to expedite the timing.”
The exact timing couldn’t be pressed—Clarissa’s opinion was also important.
A brief silence fell. Only the rain tapping against the glass roof could be heard.
Damon was the first to speak.
“The engagement gift is ready.”
He pulled a small box from his jacket pocket. Inside was a magic dagger crafted as a magic sword.
Valentine, not skilled with swords, would struggle with a long, heavy blade. So it was made as a dagger for easier handling, appearing only when needed.
Valentine’s expression darkened as he received the gift. He recalled something Clarissa had said.
When she had been invited to the palace tea party, walking in the garden with Valentine, Clarissa had spoken carefully:
“Your Highness, you said you would listen to me. May I do a single rude thing if you hear me out?”
“What rudeness would you bring by speaking so seriously?”
Urged to speak, Clarissa bowed her hands and began cautiously:
“Your Highness, do not be defeated by a sword. You possess a soul stronger than any blade. Therefore, you only need someone skilled in swordsmanship by your side.”
It was audacious advice—daring to instruct him!
It also indirectly criticized Valentine’s weakness in swordsmanship.
She had probably learned he would gift the magic sword through Damon, prompting her advice.
“I shall pretend not to have heard the baroness’ rudeness,” Damon said.
Clarissa suddenly knelt before him, bowing her head.
“False loyalty can be extracted with a sword, but the result is disastrous—like a knight who does not truly follow and respect Duke Dwayne Lakton. Your Highness can make all kneel, not by sword but through wisdom and strategy.”
“……”
“Just as I kneel before Your Highness now.”
Seeing Clarissa speak thus, Valentine recalled his deceased mother, the late empress.
She had always said the same: a weak body is no shame. Keep a skilled knight at your side. Never be discouraged; pursue your will.
She had guided him to correct the empire’s misrule and secure prosperity.
Valentine had once intended to wield the magic sword to overcome his inferiority with blades. Clarissa’s words made him reconsider.
To become emperor and rely on a sword to compensate for inadequacy would have been disgraceful.
In the end, Valentine resolved not to become the sword’s master. He sent a letter to Clarissa via pigeon.
Clarissa desired the magic sword. Having her as its master beside him was all he needed.
