CHAPTER 91…
‘But… didn’t Blenn say earlier that he burned the painting…?’
After swapping the painting, Blenn had passed a note to him through the maid serving wine—saying the switch had been a success.
‘Then… what on earth happened?’
Pop—!
Before Phaidan had time to collect his startled expression, the lights in the hall flickered back on.
At the same time, Leticia’s face came into view.
She was smiling radiantly, as if certain of her victory.
“Now, have you confirmed that this is the genuine article?”
Blinking in disbelief, Phaidan covered the spot where the glow-in-the-dark signature was etched and peered again.
But no matter how he rubbed his eyes and looked, the signature was still there.
“That’s a relief. Such a precious painting is finally going into the hands of its long-awaited owner.”
In that moment, the thought that dominated Phaidan’s mind was neither the frustration of his plan falling apart nor the anger at Leticia’s smug smile…
‘My hundred million gold…!’
It was his money—blown on a worthless scrap of paper.
When he thought of his hard-earned fortune being used to buy that scrap, his gut twisted in agony.
Leticia, as if reading his mind, drove the nail in deeper.
“Oh, and how will you be making payment? It’s such a large sum that it might be hard to arrange it all at once… But I suppose worrying about that for the Duke of Farnese would be meddlesome, wouldn’t it?”
“W-wait! I never intended to buy this painting…!”
Still dazed and gaping like a fish, Phaidan finally came to his senses and tried to return the painting—but couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.
After all, the nobles attending the auction were all watching him.
He couldn’t exactly say, in front of them, that he had no intention of buying it, nor that his purpose was to humiliate Leticia.
In the end, clutching his aching gut, he had no choice but to nod.
Leticia gave him a bright smile.
“Then I’ll take it as a lump-sum payment.”
A victor’s smile.
Only then did Phaidan realize—
‘That woman… she knew I was behind this…!’
The one who’d fallen for the scheme wasn’t Leticia—it was himself.
“Now then, everyone, please escort the guests to the banquet hall.”
Leticia gave instructions to the maids, then turned away, leaving Phaidan glaring at her as if he wanted to kill her.
There was a satisfied smile on her lips as she walked away.
‘Well, the ducal house won’t go bankrupt over a mere hundred million gold… but it’ll still sting.’
Suppressing the laugh threatening to escape, she started toward the banquet preparations—only to meet the eyes of the lover waiting for her.
Approaching him, she teased lightly,
“You played the shill role quite well, you know?”
“Oh dear, was my secret good deed found out?”
“From backstage, you can see exactly who’s doing what.”
The one who’d competed fiercely with Phaidan in the final bidding was none other than Idris.
“Anyway, thank you. Thanks to you, I managed to bleed that man dry.”
“A gentleman’s joy is in aiding a lady. But tell me—how were you so sure he was the culprit?”
“…Ah.”
“Of course, there was circumstantial evidence… but without proof, you couldn’t be certain, could you?”
At his sharp point, Leticia flinched.
‘But I can’t exactly tell him I have an incredible knack for telling valuable from worthless—be it objects or people…’
“I just…”
“Just?”
“Just a hunch. I’m good at sensing bad things—and bad people.”
“Only a hunch?”
Idris let out a disbelieving chuckle.
It wasn’t the sort of answer the usually meticulous Leticia would give.
Before he could press further, she quickly changed the subject.
“And what made you so sure when you pressured that servant?”
Earlier, it was Idris’s force that had made Blenn reveal where he’d hidden the real painting.
Leticia had known Blenn was the culprit—but Idris had had no solid proof.
If Blenn had been innocent, Idris would have been in an awkward position for using violence.
Yet he had stepped in anyway—so perhaps he’d had some kind of certainty.
But his answer was unexpected.
“I also just had a hunch. A hunch that you would be right.”
Leticia burst into an incredulous laugh.
He was just as reckless as she was.
‘At this rate, we’re a perfect team.’
Idris watched her chuckle, then, as if naturally following the script, held out his hand.
“Shall we go prepare for the banquet?”
Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his. It felt natural now.
Hand in hand, they walked away—passing by Mikael, who brightened at the sight of her.
“Leti—”
He started toward her, but when he saw Idris by her side, he stopped.
The call went unfinished.
“Hah… do you think I’m in any mood to attend a banquet right now?”
Phaidan, being escorted toward the banquet hall by his attendants, finally shook them off and stormed out of the building.
“My hundred million gold…”
The more he thought about that fortune wasted on a scrap of old paper, the more his gut burned.
And with it, his rage toward Leticia consumed him.
Grinding his teeth, he suddenly heard an unfamiliar voice behind him.
“To think she’s having an affair after having such a devoted husband—one willing to spend a fortune just to save her face. Truly disgraceful.”
Startled, he turned—and there stood…
“…Your Grace, Grand Duke Zahir?”
“It must feel terribly unfair, Duke Farnese.”
“Ah… yes…”
Phaidan looked at Deon, who was offering sympathy, with a displeased expression.
First, because his pride—as the sole heir to a ducal house—wouldn’t allow him to accept anyone’s pity.
Second, because he knew that Deon had once coveted his wife, Leticia.
At the time, he had scolded her, saying, ‘It’s because you give him room,’ but regardless, he could never like a man who had once desired what was his.
Whether Deon had forgotten that, or was pretending to, he now spoke with brazen ease.
“I enjoy those predictable stories where good triumphs and evil is punished—whether in plays or in reality.”
“…”
“The same applies to your story, of course.”
“…”
“If you ever need my help, you need only ask.”
Patting Phaidan’s shoulder lightly, he turned to leave.
‘I’m no petty minor noble—I’m a duke. There’s nothing I can’t handle on my own.’
Watching his retreating back with distaste, Phaidan suddenly remembered the one thing he couldn’t handle—
and once again writhed in agony.
“My hundred million gold!”
The centerpiece of the banquet was my necklace.
More precisely, the yellow diamond necklace Idris had won at the charity auction.
‘If Phaidan had been here, he’d have gotten the most attention.’
After all, he’d “donated” a hundred million gold at the bazaar.
‘But since he wasted it in the most ridiculous way possible, there’s no way he could attend without seething.’
I could still picture his face when he realized the painting was genuine—dying inside with regret.
“What’s so funny?”
Idris, bringing me wine, looked at me curiously as I chuckled to myself.
Accepting the glass, I deflected,
“Oh… I’m just happy the bazaar was such a success.”
Of course, Idris knew I loathed Phaidan and wanted revenge.
‘Still, I don’t want to lay my black heart bare.’
Maybe it was because Idris was such a good man—especially to me—that I didn’t want to show him my uglier side.
“Come on, let’s toast to victory.”
Hiding my true thoughts, I clinked my glass against his.
Thankfully, Idris didn’t press further.
As we sipped our wine and caught our breath, a voice called out—
“Lady Cloel.”
Turning, I saw the head chamberlain of the Imperial Palace.
“His Majesty wishes to see you.”
‘His Majesty? Wants to see me?’
Not Idris—just me?
Blinking in surprise, I was about to speak, but Idris answered instead,
“We’ll be there shortly.”
He naturally assumed we’d both been summoned. He reached for my hand—
—but the chamberlain quickly corrected him.
“His Majesty wishes to see Lady Cloel alone.”
Just me?!
