TDAF 37

Chapter 37

It wasn’t often that Viktor Dampfelt visited the royal palace. So the moment word spread of his arrival, the entire court buzzed with excitement. The most flustered among them were the royal ladies in the middle of their tea party.

“Viktor’s here.”

“Really?”

“What’s he wearing? Still handsome as ever?”

“What good is handsome? He’s our cousin.”

“What’s wrong with cousins marrying in the royal family? Besides, it’s not like you grew up together. Viktor was raised outside the palace.”

Abandoning their tea party, they all headed to the reception room.

The special reception room was reserved only for the current king and queen, the crown prince, and the crown prince’s son, the crown grand prince. All other nobles had to use the regular reception rooms.

Viktor Dampfelt had been summoned by Crown Grand Prince Yuli Iren, who now lounged in a chair placed directly opposite the entrance.

When Viktor appeared beyond the door, Yuli Iren sneered.

“Oh, Viktor.”

Standing at the door, Viktor placed a hand over his chest, bowed deeply, and remained where he was.

“Not coming in?” the crown prince’s son asked, watching him from afar.

Only after Yuli Iren gestured did Viktor step forward.

By Yuli’s side were royals gathered to watch the scene. The women, hiding behind their fans, whispered among themselves.

“He’s a cousin, and divorced at that. Not much of a husband candidate…”

“But with looks like that, the story changes.”

“And he’s a hero, too.”

Their eyes, sticky with desire, roamed over Viktor. Yuli Iren joked to them:

“You shouldn’t show such lust with the man standing right in front of you. He’ll feel uncomfortable.”

Viktor replied coolly,

“I don’t mind. It’s not like the ladies can force me by strength, after all.”

Smiling as if to show he’d meant it lightly, he glanced at the women, who giggled behind their fans. Yuli twisted his lips into a smile, though his displeasure was plain.

Then Viktor’s gaze shifted briefly to Nina Hunter, seated at Yuli’s side. The glance was short, but it left a scar in Nina’s heart.

When Viktor had vanished with the pirate ship and months passed, Nina believed he was dead. In that time, she accepted the advances of Crown Grand Prince Yuli Iren and became his lover.

“You were the one who was late! The one at fault is the latecomer—why are you angry at me?!”

When she had faced Viktor after his return, she had shouted to mask her shame at betraying him. Viktor only gave a bitter laugh and turned away.

Nina knew he wasn’t the kind of man to hold her back. Anyone who knew Viktor Dampfelt would have expected as much.

Yet sometimes she thought—if Viktor had broken expectations then, if he had stopped her—she would have given him a love worthy of being remembered in history, no matter who her current partner might be.

High society was rife with rumors about Viktor Dampfelt these days. It was widely known that on the day of his divorce, when Scarlett Crimson handed him the papers, Viktor signed without a single question.

Of course. That’s exactly like Viktor Dampfelt.

A man who would let even his wife go as calmly as a lover—this was precisely the Viktor she knew.

After parting ways with Nina, Viktor had seemed to marry another woman almost out of spite. But now, unlike before, he didn’t rush into another relationship after his divorce, which puzzled people.

Perhaps, as rumors claimed, he felt nothing for Scarlett Crimson and so had no anger at the divorce. Or perhaps, unlike with Nina Hunter, he could not forget his ex-wife and was remaining chaste for her sake.

Who was it, truly, that the hero of the seas, Viktor Dampfelt, loved?

Society was eager to know.

Viktor kept his eyes fixed on Yuli Iren, who had yet to give him any real instruction. He already knew that Yuli had summoned him only to flaunt his power—to show off his status by commanding even Viktor’s presence.

But that did not mean Viktor Dampfelt was a man Yuli could belittle or toy with. For that reason, Yuli felt compelled to offer some form of compensation.

Pulling Nina’s hand to his lips, Yuli kissed it and said to Viktor,

“My fiancée will soon be hosting a charity event.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Graciously, she intends to invite Lady Marina as well.”

At that, Viktor’s gaze flicked again toward Nina.

Yuli continued,

“If you have anything to auction, bring it. Surely two ladies will have unused belongings lying around. Ah—aren’t you also in litigation with your father? Must be lonely.”

At this, Nina lightly tapped Yuli’s arm.

“Yuli.”

“He is imprisoned, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Viktor answered flatly.

The greatest reason Marina had gone mad was her exclusion from high society. As the king’s cherished daughter, nobles had once vied to lavish her with gifts, just for her presence. Even now, if she regained her senses, Marina would eagerly devour gossip magazines. If she learned that Nina Hunter, the most celebrated socialite of the time, was inviting her, she would be overjoyed.

One of the most sensational revelations the royal police had made last year was that Viktor Dampfelt had personally committed his mother to an asylum. Yet soon after, when news broke that Marina Dampfelt had tried to kill her own son, public opinion flipped, and sympathy even grew for Viktor.

Sympathy toward a powerful man—Yuli considered it one of the most dangerous emotions. Those who won it could be unpredictable.

So he intended to shatter that sympathy, using Marina Dampfelt. The moment she acted outside the bounds of society, sympathy would turn to disgust. And if Marina disgraced herself in public, Viktor’s name would be tarnished along with hers. This was Yuli’s poisoned “compensation.”

Nina asked,

“You’ll come, won’t you, Viktor?”

“I can’t refuse an invitation from you.”

At his reply, the royal ladies giggled behind their fans. Pleased with his scheme, Yuli smiled smugly.

Moments later, Viktor left the reception room.

In the corridor, Blight waited, already aware that the crown prince’s son had only summoned Viktor as entertainment. He worried how Viktor might feel, though his master’s expression, as always, betrayed no sign of disturbance.

Viktor told him,

“Send a letter to Scarlett. Ask her to choose an item for the charity auction.”

“Yes, young master.”

Blight bowed and departed first to deliver the message.

Viktor paused, looking around the Salantie palace that he knew inside and out—thanks to his mother drilling every detail into his mind like indoctrination.

The splendor of the palace now seemed hollow to him, almost laughably meaningless. Watching young nobles wandering about, hunting for partners, he questioned whether such behavior could truly be called “noble.”

He longed to ask his mother what she had ever seen in this place. Did she truly prefer being a minor player in this gaudy, decrepit stage to being mistress of the powerful Dampfelt family her son had secured?

If only, even for a brief moment, she could return to her senses. Then she could finally make a true judgment of what was worth valuing.

Scarlett received the letter that Blight himself had carefully written and sent by servant. The neat folds, measured by ruler, bore traces of his mild compulsiveness. The letter requested her help in choosing an item from the Dampfelt estate to be auctioned at Nina Hunter’s charity party.

[It is too difficult for us to decide what might be appropriate for the auction. We would be grateful if you could come to the Dampfelt house and assist us.]

Indeed, one could not simply present any trinket at a party hosted by someone of Nina Hunter’s social stature. Auction items quickly became the talk of society and reflected on the hosting family’s reputation.

“I suppose I’ll have to go.”

Scarlett muttered so, then sighed deeply, unwilling though she was.

December and January were the busiest months for society events, charity parties included. Winter marked the start of the season, and ironically, nobles used the pretext of supplying firewood for distant regions as yet another reason to host gatherings.

Even the people of Seventh Street held charity events. Scarlett had been worrying about what to contribute for those. Having just opened her shop, she was stretched thin—maintaining the clock shop and paying Andrei’s wages left little to spare.

If she went to organize the charity items, she could perhaps bring back some leftover blankets, or old grain from Viktor’s table—things not good enough for him but valuable enough for Seventh Street.

Resolving herself, she put on her coat and told Andrei,

“I’m going to the Dampfelt estate. They asked me to help choose items for the charity event.”

“Does the boss really have to go herself?”

“If there’s anything useful, I’ll bring some back too. You know Seventh Street holds charity events as well.”

“…What?”

Andrei gave his usual scornful look at the world.

“You’re donating to a charity event? Not receiving?”

“What do you mean? Why would someone with a shop this big be receiving charity?”

“This isn’t a big shop. Please drop the word ‘big.’”

“….”

“And those clothes you’re wearing, boss. These days, even nuns wouldn’t dress like that.”

Scarlett pouted at his continued nitpicking.

“…I’ll do the work after I get back. I’m the boss, so giving myself a day off is my choice. Today, I’m giving myself leave.”

“Sure, if you say so.”

Still looking unconvinced, Andrei answered begrudgingly.