Chapter 12
“Aisha. If you’re really set on this, then I’ll—”
As Daniel’s face twisted with displeasure, Aisha sat in gloomy silence. It was then that Graham, noticing his daughter’s dejected expression, finally spoke. But the moment he mentioned Ian’s name, Marissa firmly placed her hand over her husband’s and turned to Aisha with a resolute look.
“Do as Daniel said. You’ve already told your father that you have no plans for engagement or marriage anytime soon. To avoid any unnecessary rumors, it’s better if you attend with your brothers this time. I’m sure each of them will be willing to leave a partner’s seat empty for your sake, even if only for a day. Taking turns with them as your partner won’t be so bad, right?”
“…Alright.”
Aisha weakly nodded at her strict mother’s words. Her eyes stayed fixed on her plate, her face clouded with gloom. The somber atmosphere pulled everyone down, and Daniel muttered under his breath without realizing:
“Damn bastard.”
Ian had been in his study for four hours straight, moving his pen like a machine. Every time the papers shifted from his left to his right, the dry scent of parchment and the ink’s distinct smell wafted up and settled back down again. Most would’ve grown bored of the endless reading and decision-making, but Ian kept his expression blank, his hand steady.
Eventually, the scratching of the pen stopped only after the stack on his left was gone. Ian leaned deep into his chair, frowning slightly.
From this broadened view, he noticed the teacup placed in the corner of his desk. The white steam had long since faded, but the tea still held its clear, reddish hue. Among all the sharp-edged items on his desk, the lone round teacup seemed oddly out of place. Irritated by it for no reason, Ian pushed himself up and reached for it.
His refined features clearly reflected on the surface of the tea before being distorted by a slight ripple. As he stared into the wavering liquid, something stirred in his mind. Abruptly, he set the cup down.
Clack.
The thin porcelain clinked against the wood, and a bit of tea spilled onto the desk. The edge of the final document on the right soaked up the red liquid, the ink bleeding across the paper. Ian swept his hair back in frustration at the stained page. But that was it—he didn’t call for anyone or clean up the mess. Instead, he leaned back and closed his eyes.
‘Of all times to remember…’
A long sigh of irritation escaped Ian’s lips. The moment he saw his reflection in the teacup, a woman’s face flashed through his mind. To be precise, it was the pale, tear-stained face of that woman reflected in the tea.
Pale lips. Red-rimmed eyes. Light blue irises, even lighter from the tears. A few strands of hair clinging to her cheeks.
To Ian, Aisha was a girl made entirely of soft, hazy colors. Her appearance, and even her presence itself, lacked any sharpness. In Ian’s world, drawn with clear lines and solid shades, she was like messy, spilled paint—an unwelcome blot.
‘Tiring.’
The mere thought of Aisha brought forth a wave of fatigue. No matter how he acted, she always responded the same way. Like a fool.
‘It’s… nice to meet you…’
Ever since their first meeting, Aisha had relentlessly followed him. At one point, he found her endearing. And maybe—just a little—he had even thought he liked her. A naive mistake.
But as he matured and developed clarity of thought, he understood. It was all an illusion. All that remained was discomfort. Out of courtesy for their 15-year history, he tolerated her, but even that sentiment had long since vanished.
‘Affection for the daughter of the Pardens? Ridiculous…’
The more he thought about Aisha, the more nauseous he felt. His stomach churned with revulsion. Ian opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a cigar. His trembling hand showed just how irritated he truly was.
With a hiss, the cigar lit and some of that foul mood subsided. He took in the acrid smoke and leaned his head back. The smoke coiled into rings before vanishing just beneath the ceiling.
Its shape reminded him of the ends of Aisha’s curly hair—and his anger flared once again.
‘It’s been three years. She should’ve understood by now.’
Ian had only started recognizing and acting on these feelings three years ago—around the time talks of engagement began. At first, he couldn’t understand why he hesitated to agree to the betrothal.
‘I’m sorry if you’re disappointed. But I’m just not ready yet.’
He thought his reluctance came from insecurity. Embarrassment over not being prepared. But with time, he came to a clearer realization: it wasn’t that he wasn’t ready. He simply didn’t want to marry Aisha.
Still, their long-standing relationship and the verbal promise between their fathers made things messy. At the time, Ian also believed he owed the Parden family a debt.
‘Ian. I think it’s time we talked about your engagement to Aisha.’
‘Ah… I’m due for a business trip. I’ll come see you again once I return. We can talk more then.’
So, he started acting vaguely. If he suddenly went from being friendly to cold, he’d just seem like a crazy, heartless bastard. Of course, his behavior—flirting with agreement while never truly committing—might’ve seemed cowardly. But even if it left a bad taste in his mouth, he didn’t feel guilty toward Aisha.
‘Well, it’s convenient now. As long as she keeps acting like a fool, it works in my favor. Watching that love-crazed girl suffer will slowly eat away at that man too.’
And now, even the guilt had faded. On his six-month journey not long ago, Ian found the justification he needed to reject both Aisha and the Pardens. A solid reason to say “no.” Proof of something he had suspected for over two years. His icy blue eyes gleamed ominously as they fixed on the lowest, locked drawer of the desk.
Knock knock.
Just as he stared coldly at the drawer, someone knocked on the study door. Snapping out of his thoughts, Ian stubbed out his cigar and said, “Come in.”
“I apologize for the interruption, sir. But it’s nearly time for your meeting with Duke Levantus.”
It was James. Ian gave a small nod and reached for the soaked paper on his desk. The signature area had been completely ruined.
“…from the joint business with the Parden family, significant profits…”
Spotting the name “Parden” in the middle of the document, Ian crumpled the paper without hesitation. The harsh sound caught James’ attention, who blinked at him in confusion. Ian didn’t care. He tossed the crushed paper aside and stood from his chair.
“Let’s go.”
Beauvese Street in the capital, Leon, was the heart of fashion. Everything from clothes and accessories to jewelry and cosmetics lined the street in dazzling displays. Those with money to spare always visited Beauvese Street when looking to dress up.
“Careful with that!”
“How long ago was this order placed? Why didn’t anyone double-check?!”
The street buzzed with life. Different social classes favored different shops, but thanks to the booming commerce, every store had its share of customers. With trends shifting quickly, shopkeepers cleaned their storefronts at dawn, received shipments from across the realm, and frantically tended to their duties. Owners barked orders, verifying schedules with important clients, barely finding time to breathe.
“It’s always crowded here.”
“Well, Madam Luv’s work is both unique and high-quality.”
Among these stores, Madam Luv’s boutique was especially hectic. Catering to both nobles and commoners, it was cheaper than elite salons but no less fashionable or elegant. With decent quality at a fair price, nobles came to have outfits tailored, while commoners stepped into a world they could usually only dream of.
“Paul messed up an order, so I’ve been running around since morning.”
“At least we’re busy. Look across the street at Langdon’s boutique. Business has been awful ever since that mishap. They look miserable every day.”
“Poor things, but what can we do? I’m heading inside for a break. Anne, keep an eye out. Lady Aisha is scheduled to arrive in about thirty minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll let you know as soon as she gets here.”
Although Madam Luv’s boutique served many customers, Aisha was a special one. No matter how busy things were, Madam Luv always made time to personally attend to her.
It made sense—after all, nobility with money rarely shopped in boutiques that catered to commoners. And among noble customers, few came for formal wear; most only bought casual pieces.
Madam Luv had long struggled to produce high-end garments that could serve as flagship pieces. Aisha solved that problem. With her father Graham’s influence and the Parden name, she frequently visited various shops—and often ordered luxury dresses from Madam Luv.
“Oh? She’s early! Madam! Madam!”
Anne, stationed at the entrance per Madam Luv’s instruction, shouted the moment she spotted the Parden family’s carriage. Having worked at the store for years, she could recognize their horses as well as their crest.
“Madam! Lady Aisha is here! Hurry!”
“Oh my! She’s early?”
As Madam Luv bustled across the shop, the eyes of all the customers followed her. It was rare to see the normally composed shop owner so flustered. Curious murmurs spread. A few nobles inside the boutique recognized Aisha and Edward and began whispering.
“Oh my! It’s been so long, my lady. Ah… and Lord Edward is with you as well. It’s truly an honor to have you here.”
