Chapter 65…
Misalignment
“Should I hold his hand, or cut it off?”
The king ignored the trembling man before him, resting his chin on his hand and tapping the armrest with his ringed finger.
“Hiccup.”
Frightened, the man hiccupped. Yesterday, the platform had been drenched in blood. He had witnessed it himself—his colleague, alive one day, a corpse the next.
“What do you think, hmm?”
The king asked with a wide grin that stretched to his ears. His voice was cheerful and affectionate, as if he were offering gold and jewels.
But the man, who had worked in the palace for ten years, knew all too well that the king was the coldest and most merciless of men.
“I–I am far too unworthy to know such things…”
“In my heart, I’d like nothing more than to toss those damned businessmen and bankers straight into the pits of hell. But as a benevolent king, how could I? I must embrace them with generous magnanimity.”
“…”
The king pursed his lips and fiddled idly with the ring on his hand. The more he touched it, the more it gleamed with a dark crimson hue.
“Of course, there must be some small price to pay. You may go now. I have a very grand party to prepare.”
“Yes, then I shall take my leave.”
The man bowed deeply with a bright smile, as if he had just received good news, and hastily left the hall.
Left alone, the king yawned widely, tilting his head lazily.
While he scraped together taxes here and there to keep the kingdom running despite lacking funds, now there was even an unmarried woman amassing wealth on her own.
He rubbed his weary eyes, thinking these little rats who looked after nothing but their own gain were the real problem.
“A woman, unmarried, making money. No doubt she’ll strut around in a man’s ceremonial uniform at the event, acting all cocky. How ridiculous.”
The king sneered, then left without hesitation.
And when he returned, there was no doubt the women he summoned to his bedchamber that night would be killed. Whenever he quarreled with the queen, he had vented his anger by murdering innocent women in his chambers.
That a female entrepreneur now irked him as much as the queen meant only one thing—she had become a thorn in his side.
Bella was busy discussing some finished product samples with the workers when she noticed a neat-looking carriage pulling up beyond the fence.
Wiping the sweat from her neck, she approached curiously—only to see a familiar face step down from the carriage.
“Ridel?”
Ridel looked her over and shook his head knowingly.
Her silvery-gray hair was tied high and tight, a little soap powder smudged her cheek, and she wore a plain, dark work dress. Anyone could see she was dressed to work. She had clearly forgotten what day it was.
“Today’s the day to choose your outfit. Of course someone with my taste couldn’t possibly miss it. You, after all, wear the same things over and over.”
Ridel casually brushed the powder off Bella’s cheek. Only then did she realize her face was dirty and scrubbed it roughly with her hand until the last specks came off.
“Well, that’s true. But when it comes to taste, Chey is the best.”
“You don’t mean to call the Duke in front of the atelier staff, do you? You’ll scare them all away.”
“…That’s true.”
Bella rolled her eyes and avoided his gaze. Honestly, she hadn’t thought of that. Without Ridel, she might have forgotten that Chey was invisible to others and acted without care.
These days, except for the faint chill he gave off, Chey seemed almost alive. Bella sometimes even reached out to touch him.
But her hand always slipped through him, brushing only empty air.
“Come on, let’s go inside and check the catalog first. More importantly, you and I need to coordinate our clothes a bit.”
“Why me?”
Ridel smoothly took her by the shoulders and turned her toward the house. But Bella frowned slightly at his words.
At a formal event, coordinating clothes was something lovers, fiancés, or married couples did.
So those words—did he mean to propose?
But one look at his polished, cheeky face made it clear that wasn’t what he meant. Thank goodness. Rejecting a noble’s confession would have been burdensome and required no small amount of courage.
“What do you mean why? I’m the head of the Mist Trading Company.”
“I know.”
“I’ve been invited to the royal event for new entrepreneurs as well.”
“Yes. But coordinating clothes—”
“That way, no one will dare lay a hand on you.”
“…”
Ah.
Finally understanding his intent, Bella widened her eyes and nodded.
The Mist Company’s master was a shrouded figure. No one had ever heard of him forming any kind of tie with anyone. If she appeared at the event in matching attire with him…
All eyes would be on them.
“Bella. Were you worried I might have ulterior motives toward you?”
“Well, I could always refuse, but still…”
With a playful grin, Ridel slung an arm around her neck and pulled her close as if it were his own home, leading her up the stairs.
“Then there’s no reason not to. It’s also a kind of insurance once we’re inside the palace. His Majesty is dying to know who the Mist Company’s master is—he’ll definitely approach you.”
He wasn’t wrong. Wearing coordinated outfits with Ridel would mean no one could dismiss or mistreat Bella. At the same time, it would draw everyone’s attention.
Especially the king.
The king already owed vast sums to Ridel’s bank, with no intention of ever repaying. His last resort would be to uncover the identity of the Mist Company’s master.
And in such a situation, the woman appearing beside him in matching clothes would inevitably draw attention—even if she weren’t a commoner entrepreneur.
Not long after Bella and Ridel reached the drawing room, the owner of the atelier, Bovry Maksim, arrived.
“Pleased to meet you. Please just call me Bovry.”
“Bovry, nice to meet you. And I’ll be in your care.”
Bella greeted her politely, offering her hand. Bovry looked surprised for a moment, then smiled shyly and shook it lightly.
“Thank you. Usually, people insist on putting ‘Madame’ before my name, even though I’m not married.”
“Since you run a shop, they probably just assume.”
“And until now, every atelier owner has been married. I suppose I take pride in being the first exception. Are you the same, perhaps?”
Bovry Maksim had been running her atelier for decades without marrying, even past middle age.
Nobles scorned her for opening a business in her own name despite being unmarried, but her skill was beyond reproach.
Even Bella, with her poor sense of aesthetics, had instantly decided after seeing Bovry’s work on the list Chey had prepared.
“Of course. Please just call me Bella.”
“I couldn’t do that. You’re my client. I’ll call you Lady Bella.”
“That’s fine then. I’ll have some refreshments brought out first.”
Bella tugged the cord by the table twice, and soon a servant arrived with tea and light refreshments.
“I was nervous after hearing about the ghost mansion, but now that I see it, it’s really neat and tidy.”
“Well, there is a ghost, but don’t worry. As you can see, I’m alive and well.”
“Then I’ll trust you, Lady Bella. Let’s start by looking here. You can also feel the fabrics at the end.”
Bovry carefully placed a thick book on the table. Bella had expected a light catalog, but it was practically an encyclopedia.
“Wow.”
Flipping through it, Bella let out admiring sounds one after another as she studied each design.
Ridel, looking over her shoulder, also lit up as if discovering a treasure.
“Since your hair color matches my eyes, it’ll look best if we coordinate the fabric tones or accessories. Better than blatantly wearing a matching set.”
“I agree with that.”
Listening quietly, Bovry cautiously spoke.
“Forgive me, but may I ask the relationship between you two?”
“Business partners.”
“Lovers.”
“…?”
The first answer came from Bella, the second from Ridel—and the last question mark appeared on all three faces.
