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Chapter: 47
It was because Bin had taken advantage of the moment my lips parted and stuffed something into my mouth.
“You looked like you were enjoying it earlier.”
This bittersweet taste—
It was the chocolate flavor from the brand Bin said he liked.
Was he watching the whole time?
…After eating so much earlier, it’s too sweet now.
“I brought wine too.”
As I frowned, Bin held out a wine glass.
The amount hadn’t decreased at all from when he was holding it earlier.
Had he been planning to take care of me since then?
But why?
“O-Ortega Young Duke. What on earth is the meaning of this? Didn’t you clearly despise Lady Heather…?”
“I did.”
“Then why…?”
“People change. Love changes too.”
“Change? It’s only lessened. Her temper is still far from gentle.”
“If you intend to nitpick Iryllin’s temper, perhaps you should first reflect on your own. Wasn’t it Lady Hant who picked a fight with someone minding her own business?”
“Th-That may be, but…!”
“Lady Hant.”
Bin called Callie’s name softly. A moment later, an angelic smile bloomed across his face.
Mm. Callie’s dead now.
“Lady Hant, would you stand idly by if someone tried to destroy something that belongs to you?”
“…Are you saying you’ll harm me?”
“As if. I don’t spare even a glance for things not worth stepping on.”
“…Then what do you intend to do?”
“I’ll step on something of greater value. For example, we could cease all dealings with the Hant Viscount’s house.”
I had read it in the novel before.
The insignificant Hant Viscount family was able to maintain its noble standing only because, out of ties between the previous generation, the Ortega side continued business with them—even at a slight loss.
Now that the former generation had passed and there was no longer any need to endure losses, if those dealings were cut off, the Hant Viscount family would likely be reduced to ruin.
Judging by Callie’s ashen face, my guess seemed correct.
“Y-Young Duke. I was thoughtless. Could you reconsider?”
“I refuse.”
“Nix! What are you doing? Apologize at once!”
“…My apologies, Vice-Captain.”
At Callie’s urging, Nix Heyman bowed his head, looking dazed.
Why are they apologizing to Bin instead of me?
They wronged me.
Anyway, whether it’s Iryllin’s parents or those two, how are they all the same—only apologizing to the strong?
“Sir Heyman. I gave you an opportunity by selecting you as part of the guard for the Founding Festival party. Must I give you a second one?”
“…If you grant me one more chance, I will never disappoint you again.”
“There won’t be disappointment. I never had expectations to begin with. I’ve already finished evaluating you. A man who moves not by conviction but by power alone—a bat. You are unfit for the Imperial Knights.”
“V-Vice-Captain! Please, just one last chance…! I will apologize to Sir Heather as well.”
“Not necessary.”
I cut him off sharply.
Nix Heyman grabbed my wrist.
“Iryllin. I’m truly sor—”
“I said it’s not necessary!”
With only a little strength, I easily shook off his grip.
Sneering, I spoke coldly.
“Lady Hant. It seems your fiancé may need clothes sturdy enough to conceal his frail body.”
“In contrast, my lady is astonishingly strong.”
At Bin’s icy, mocking tone, I couldn’t help but let out a short laugh.
I looked up at him quietly, a smile lingering on my lips. Yesterday’s emotions were pushed aside.
“The strongest lady in the world—shall we go now? I’ll take care of the unpleasant trash. My lady need only enjoy the party.”
“Master. Do you have something to say to the young lady?”
“No.”
Cis answered curtly.
Wendy was anxious. He kept glancing at Iryllin—was he about to reveal her mistake?
She regretted how she used to subtly look down on Cis.
Who would have thought Iryllin would grow close to him?
Even the Marquis and Marchioness, who treated him like something beneath notice despite being their own child, had recently begun watching his mood carefully.
Something must have happened for Cis to gain power.
“Or… do you need anything else?”
“I don’t.”
She was trying to curry favor now, but Cis paid her no attention.
All his focus seemed fixed on Iryllin and Bin.
“Your glass is empty! I’ll refill it—ah, there’s no water in the kettle either. Please wait a moment! I’ll refill it right away!”
It is the virtue of a competent attendant to fulfill needs before being ordered.
Seizing the opportunity, Wendy grabbed the kettle and hurried to the kitchen.
If she even prepared tea leaves, perhaps she would be seen as more useful. Humming to herself, she was choosing the leaves when—
“Hey.”
A strange man’s voice sounded behind her.
Wendy flinched and turned.
A man with snow-white hair and eerie violet eyes stood there.
‘I’ve never seen him before. Did he have ties to our masters…?’
She searched her memory but couldn’t think of anyone.
Yet for some reason, someone came to mind.
Though it had changed now, the Iryllin of the past used to call her that as well.
“…Yes?”
“Brew some tea.”
“Pardon?”
“Brew tea. Hurry. I’m dying of thirst.”
She had heard only one person attended the tea party who wasn’t on the guest list.
Wendy had been outside the entire time—there was no way she had missed a new arrival.
The man was dressed elegantly, but he looked strangely unwell, as though he hadn’t washed in days.
If so, he was likely an intruder disguised as a noble.
And yet—perhaps out of long habit as an attendant—her hands were already steeping the tea.
Even carefully adjusting it to the perfect temperature for immediate drinking.
“It’s done, right?”
By the time she came to her senses, the man had already snatched the teacup from her hand.
He gulped it down recklessly.
Then he hurled the cup to the floor.
Crash—!
Along with the shattering sound came a torrent of venomous words.
“This tastes disgusting! You call this trash tea? It’s been seven years and you still haven’t improved at all! What are you doing? Brew it again immediately!”
It seemed Bin had meant it when he said he would clean up the unpleasant trash. While I peacefully enjoyed the tea party, he whispered something to each of them.
I didn’t know what he said, but the troublesome guests quietly withdrew, watching his expression.
Idiots. Is now the time to only worry about Bin?
They committed rudeness against the very host of the party. They’ll likely suffer bad rumors for the rest of their lives.
“Did I do well?”
After driving everyone away, Bin asked with the expression of a puppy that had fetched a ball.
“Praise me.”
He even leaned his head toward me.
“Why should I?”
I answered with the utmost indifference.
What kind of feelings had I turned away with back then?
Why was he acting as though yesterday had never happened?
“Didn’t you hear what I said yesterday?”
“I did. You said you don’t love me.”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
Bin’s eyes curved softly as he smiled. Though it was late autumn, his voice carried the warmth of a spring breeze.
“To make you love me.”
It was my ears that heard the words, yet they brushed sweetly across my heart.
Once again, the desire to hold onto a passing breeze crept in.
“Did you think I’d be shocked anew because you don’t have feelings for me? You’re mistaken. I already knew.”
Knew? As if. He didn’t know anything.
I nearly spat it out, but I caught sight of my sister watching me from afar, her face full of concern, and steadied myself.
Cool composure returned to my voice.
“You think my heart will change just because you do this?”
“Yes.”
“Ha—on what grounds?”
“On myself. Even I didn’t know. That I would join a war just to find someone I once despised.”
…That surprised me too.
I never imagined my favorite character would be so obsessed with me that he would enlist in a war just to find me.
Nor did I imagine I would lose myself to such a madman.
“You thought I’d retreat just because you agreed to spar?”
“….”
“What should I do? I’m not someone who can be satisfied with just that.”
Just as I had wrapped my legs around his waist and pinned him down before, Bin lightly encircled my waist.
As his face drew closer, I turned away.
I had to struggle to keep my tone dry.
“And what more do you want?”
“You haven’t had dinner yet.”
“So if I have dinner with you, that’s enough?”
“Do you think so?”
Bin released the hand around my waist.
Then he exhaled softly, and his gaze cleared.
…As if he were forcibly suppressing surging desire.
“I don’t want to spar just once. Or dine together just once. I want it every day. I want being with me in everything to become your natural routine.”
“…That sounds like you want married life with me.”
“Why? Is that bad? We’re going to marry someday anyway.”
Yes. Very bad. That’s practically the same as saying you’ll kill your wife.
“It’s bad. So let’s break off the engagement.”
“No.”
“You won’t find me in the future you dream of. Go find someone else.”
For example, the Crown Prince.
Please. I’m begging you.
