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chapter 04
There were many things people called Dylan.
The heretic of high society. The Midas touch whose every investment turned to gold. A foul-tempered workaholic.
But among all those descriptions, there was one that suited him best:
A man of principles who would never change, even if his neck were broken.
Dylan had once been so poor that even when he was sick enough to lose consciousness, he couldn’t afford to visit a doctor.
The reason he achieved such tremendous success at such a young age wasn’t simply because he worked hard, nor because luck favored his ventures.
Dylan had principles. He had a goal.
That goal was the driving force that kept him alive, the reason he threw himself into work so obsessively that people called him insane.
And from Noel’s perspective, that goal was marriage.
The Lisburn Estate Dylan purchased for his future marriage had been designed from the beginning with two people in mind.
“Make the interior cream-colored throughout. Women like bright things.”
“Decorate the gardens as lavishly as possible. I want her to be able to host garden parties whenever she likes.”
Three full-time gardeners were employed at Lisburn Estate, and an elaborate marble fountain stood in the center of the grounds.
Even nobles who owned forests bordering their estates rarely maintained their properties to such an extravagant degree.
Until recently, Dylan had never directly spoken about marriage or a future spouse. Perhaps the only exception had been when he purchased the villa.
Even then, Noel was the only one who heard those remarks.
Yet everyone close to Dylan knew he was planning to marry.
Anyone who spent even a single day observing his life couldn’t miss it.
Every future he envisioned included his marriage.
His desire for it was almost abnormal.
Noel knew that everything Dylan did—working endlessly like an inexhaustible wellspring, purchasing a noble identity, desperately seeking entry into high society—was all for one purpose:
Marriage.
I never imagined the woman was Daphne Whitewood, though…
Noel recalled the night of the Whitewood banquet.
He had been organizing documents when Dylan returned much earlier than expected.
“You’re back early, sir. I thought you’d return after midnight…”
“…Sir?”
What Noel saw then was a face he had never seen before.
All the savagery Dylan normally concealed beneath a veneer of manners blazed across his features like a wildfire.
The despair and fury twisting his face were so intense that Noel couldn’t even begin to fathom their depths.
“By tomorrow morning, bring me a way to crush the Primrose family.”
After snarling the order as though he might strangle Noel on the spot, Dylan slammed the door behind him.
The next morning, when Noel entered with paperwork, he first had to clear away several whiskey bottles rolling across the floor.
Yet despite drinking himself into oblivion, Dylan completed every item on his schedule.
Even the newly added task of pressuring the Primrose family to withdraw the proposal.
Because for a workaholic and a man of principles, neglecting work was unacceptable under any circumstances.
Sometimes Noel wondered if principles and goals were the only things that truly moved Dylan.
Whether that was a good thing was another question entirely.
While Noel was lost in thought, Dylan had already tied a fresh necktie and clicked his tongue irritably.
“Honestly, I didn’t think they’d still be holding out after I cut off their investment funds. The Primroses can’t be pleased about marrying me either.”
“They’re still an aristocratic family,” Noel replied. “Changing their position so easily would damage their dignity.”
“Then I’ll give them a bigger problem to worry about. Contact the western landowners.”
The Primrose territory lay in the west.
No matter how active they were in the capital, their roots remained there.
For now, Dylan had merely blocked their business investments.
But if neighboring landowners began turning against them, the Primroses truly would have nowhere left to stand.
The problem was that such actions could easily make enemies of other noble families.
The aristocracy wouldn’t look kindly upon a mere businessman shaking an established house like Primrose.
“Wouldn’t it be better to wait a little longer?” Noel suggested. “It hasn’t even been a week yet.”
“I don’t intend to waste that much time. If I can’t resolve this within a week, that’s the real problem.”
As he expertly tightened his tie, Dylan raised an eyebrow and growled at Noel.
“This is entirely your fault, Noel. You should’ve found out beforehand that Evelyn Primrose was insane.”
“Hey! That’s not fair!” Noel protested immediately.
The responsibility had landed squarely on him.
He had been the one who prepared profiles on all the key attendees of the Whitewood banquet for Dylan, and he’d been suffering for it ever since.
But what exactly was he supposed to have done?
Everything he’d written had been true!
“No matter who you ask, they’ll tell you the same thing! She’s quiet, gentle, and well-behaved! She hasn’t even had an argument with anyone before!”
“Don’t make me laugh. That woman was out of her mind. If she’s really as quiet and gentle as you say, then why did she charge straight at me?”
“That… I don’t know…”
Unable to answer, Noel wilted.
Dylan scowled.
Just remembering the proposal soured his mood again.
“Forget it. The ones who look the most harmless usually have the craziest minds.”
He recalled those violet eyes fixed on him.
They had looked almost enchanted.
Their trembling and longing had been completely exposed.
In any case, she clearly wasn’t in her right mind.
If the circumstances had been even slightly different, Dylan would have been convinced she’d taken some kind of questionable drug.
But once he learned who she was, everything seemed absurdly simple.
“I can already guess what happened. She was probably jealous of Daphne Whitewood. So she picked the most attention-grabbing man she could find and used me to steal the spotlight.”
To Dylan, the explanation was obvious.
If a stranger bought land, people merely felt envy.
But if a friend bought it, they’d be sick with jealousy.
Wasn’t that human nature?
Daphne was cheerful, charming, and beloved by everyone.
Evelyn, on the other hand, was quiet, timid, and reserved.
Since they were complete opposites, it wasn’t surprising if Evelyn envied Daphne.
“That’s how people in high society think. If they can’t have something, they either steal it or make sure no one else can have it either.”
For a moment, the familiar contempt appeared on Dylan’s face before fading away.
He hated the current stalemate.
The only thing he’d demanded after seizing control of the Primrose family’s financial lifeline was simple:
Withdraw the proposal.
And have Evelyn personally explain the misunderstanding to Daphne.
No matter how little either side wanted the marriage, Dylan was already entangled in a scandal with Evelyn.
In this state, approaching Daphne would be impossible.
Only if Evelyn herself explained that everything had been a misunderstanding could Daphne’s misconceptions be completely cleared away.
And yet she’s still holding out.
Why?
Could that insane woman genuinely want to marry him?
Feeling irritated, Dylan pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips.
“Noel, how much time until my next appointment?”
“Not much. Considering travel time, we should leave in about twenty minutes.”
“Then before we go—”
He was about to ask for the documents requiring his approval.
At that moment, there was a knock on the door.
“Excuse me, sir. You have a visitor.”
“Send them away. I don’t have any appointments.”
“Well… the thing is…”
The employee looked extremely troubled.
After a moment’s hesitation, he added:
“The visitor claims to be Evelyn Primrose.”
A brief silence filled the room.
Should I send her away?
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