CMEH 14

Chapter 14

Ariana knew better than to appear overly curious in this household.

If she wasn’t careful, Emily might tell others what she had learned.

So she chose her words with deliberate caution.

“Emily, could you bring up some morning tea?”

“Yes, I’ll prepare some breakfast tea right away!”

“No, um… could you check if the kitchen has any lemon tea? If not, it’s all right.”

“Of course!”

Cheerful as ever, Emily assumed it was simply a matter of personal preference and scurried off.

Before long, a steaming teapot arrived, fragrant and warm, resting neatly on the tray.

But as Ariana examined the tea, her brows gently furrowed.

‘This isn’t something Kenneth would choose.’

Cremisans usually preferred strong leaf tea with milk.

Fruity blends like this one, especially those made with southern fruits, were rare in the capital. Not only was the flavour unfamiliar, but this type of tea had only recently begun to be imported from Duvris.

Completely unaware of this, Emily beamed as she poured the steaming tea.

“The head chef said he brought it in recently. I didn’t even know tea like this existed until today, madam!”

“I see. That’s fortunate.”

Ariana replied with a light smile of her own. Thanks to Emily, her mood had lifted slightly, as the tea had confirmed one of her suspicions.

‘A guest from Duvris must be here.’

Unless a visit had been anticipated, there was no reason to stock tea that didn’t suit the master’s tastes.

During her time as duchess, the only person frequently mentioned in connection with business dealings relating to Duvris had been…

‘Marquis Damian Baptiste.’

The very man who held estates throughout the Louan region—the place Ariana had begun to consider as a possible escape.

In her previous life, they had exchanged little more than the occasional polite greeting.

Nevertheless, she clearly remembered him as a businessman who pursued commerce and the arts with equal passion.

‘In a setting like a banquet, though, it’s difficult to have a proper conversation with a man like him.’

If she wanted to make an impression, it would be far more natural — and advantageous — to meet him at the estate.

“I’ll be stepping out for a short walk this afternoon, Emily. Please help me prepare.”

“Yes, madam!”

Ariana turned her gaze to the window, eyes settling on the very spot where she had once dug into the earth and caused a scene upon returning to this life.

‘I should leave some flowers there on my walk.’

She would meet her baby Bibi again, without a doubt.

However, she couldn’t bear to show up empty-handed when she returned to the grave.

***

The Empire of Cremisa was bordered by foreign lands on one side and a narrow sea channel on the other.

Since ancient times, the empire had prospered through maritime trade, and its capital city, Lenthia, had naturally expanded towards a large port.

Unlike the beautiful southern coasts with their transparent turquoise waters, however, Lenthia’s shoreline had little to offer tourists. There was no charm here.

Nevertheless, the harbour buzzed with life, filled with the cries of gulls and the constant clamour of trade.

At that very moment, twenty-four-year-old Damian Baptiste was silently cursing all that noise.

In stark contrast to his pale platinum hair and steel-blue eyes, Damian — true to his Duvrisian heritage — was expressive, charming and handsome in a wily, irreverent sort of way. Draped in a light overcoat, his tall frame exuded casual elegance.

Unfortunately, none of that grace touched his face now.

He looked miserable.

“What a crappy morning. Feels like death.”

His long, elegant fingers raked through his silvery hair as he rubbed his temple and walked towards the car waiting near the docks.

Although Cremisan had become the continent’s common language, Damian and his entourage naturally spoke their native Duvrisian in private.

“Ugh, my head…”

“I warned you not to overdrink, didn’t I, my lord?”

The servant who had accompanied him from Duvris scolded him in a familiar and easy manner but handed him a hangover remedy with practised efficiency nonetheless.

Damian tossed it back with a groan.

“What else could I do on that damned ship but drink? They were the ones who kept pouring.”

“Well, after you crushed them at poker, getting you drunk was probably the only payback they had.”

Despite the heavy drinking, the servant wasn’t particularly worried that Damian would mess up the day’s agenda.

The Kingdom of Duvris had long been renowned for its high-quality craftsmanship, and the people of Cremisa had become enamoured of the luxury goods they couldn’t produce themselves.

Thanks to this fascination, the Clifford family — who had brokered the trade agreements — had naturally come to monopolise the channel of exchange.

Consequently, Damian had been in contact with Kenneth Clifford even before officially inheriting his family’s business.

But if anyone had asked whether that long-standing relationship had made them close on a personal level…

The answer would be a solid no.

‘Our personalities just don’t mesh.’

Kenneth had always been the quintessential Cremisan: unbearably upright to the point of being insufferable.

If the two had any similarities, perhaps it was their taste — and nothing more.

At last, the annex of the ducal estate came into view, where his business partner was waiting for him.

Following an assassination attempt, Kenneth had reinforced security to the extreme — there were guards at every turn, and a palpable tension hung in the air.

In the annex’s reception room, Kenneth greeted him with a polite smile.

But even then, a cold, shadow-like aura clung to him.

“It’s been a while.”

In truth, Kenneth wasn’t particularly fond of Damian Baptiste either.

‘He really is the embodiment of the typical Duvrisian.’

Duvrisians were famously loud and overly cheerful, quick to disguise excessive flirting as charm and constantly complaining about food.

Damian lived out those national stereotypes without a shred of shame.

Nevertheless, even if they had grown up on the same land, Kenneth doubted that they would ever have become close.

Besides, he hadn’t allowed himself to form any ‘friendly relations’ with anyone since the Aberdeen family.

“And then… there’s the tiara.”

Kenneth let out a bitter smile as he pictured the ornament carelessly tossed into his vault.

He regretted acquiring it in the first place, but even more than that, he regretted acquiring it through the Baptiste family.

Still, Damian was good at business. That, at least, made him worthy of an invitation to the annex.

He also had excellent access to information from Duvris.

By the time they had covered most of their business dealings, Damian stretched out his long limbs comfortably on the velvet-upholstered chair and remarked casually,

“So, Prince Andrew—or rather, deposed prince, right? It’s fair to call him that now, isn’t it? He’s clearly fallen from grace.”

“Call him whatever you like.”

“I hear they haven’t found a trace of him, even after searching every corner of Duvris. The royal family has been throwing everything they have into the search, almost as if they’re hoping you’ll be grateful.”

“……”

“At this point, don’t you think he might’ve defected to another country? There are still a few bloodlines from the Claude imperial house scattered across the continent.”

“No.”

Kenneth shook his head firmly.

The Claude imperial family’s network wasn’t all that different from the Clifford duchy’s own—and those distant relatives? They’d rather tip off Kenneth and try to cash in than protect a fallen prince.

‘There’s no way they’d all stay this quiet.’

So then… was the imperial family still covering it up? Deluding themselves?

But Kenneth knew every royal villa and estate worth hiding someone in.
He had mapped them all out—and quietly shut them down.

He had also, through subtle pressure, ensured that the young Second Prince, Cedric, would be officially named Crown Prince within the year.

‘Then the only possibility left…’

The fact that Andrew was still within the Empire, lurking in the shadows and kept alive by foolish loyalists who were too blind to realise that it was all over — was unbearable.

‘That wretched parasite!’

Damian gave a short, amused but distant laugh, as though he were talking about a story that didn’t concern him.

“But tell me, Duke Clifford. If you do find him, what then? Are you planning to k*ll him?”

“You do enjoy your dark humour. I’ll follow the law, of course. I’m not the ruler of this land.”

Kenneth turned his head away, a faint smile playing on his lips.

He seemed indifferent, almost bored.

‘Of course he should die.’

He had practically orchestrated the assassination of the Clifford family.

Then, like a coward, he fled, abandoning his loyal followers.

Someone like that deserved to die a painful and undignified death.

Kenneth swallowed the foul truth burning in his throat and recalled the small newspaper clipping that had been left lying on his desk.

In the photo, Andrew had his arm around Ariana’s waist.

His face gleamed with smug satisfaction and self-congratulation.

Kenneth could barely contain the urge to crush every feature on that face.

‘Before I k*ll him, I’ll tear off that left hand of his.’

Kenneth escorted his guest out of the annex, concealing his dark thoughts behind a mask of indifference.

Although it was still early for dinner, it was only proper, as the host, to accompany the guest to their quarters to rest before the evening meal.

He led the way along a short stone-paved path towards the guest wing.

Walking one step ahead, he glanced sideways towards the main house.

Ariana didn’t know about today’s schedule.

She never did.

From the day she arrived at the estate, Kenneth had made it perfectly clear:

“You only appear when I call for you. There’s no need to show up at any other time.”

He only wanted her to appear in places that he could control.

“Above all, I don’t want to introduce Ariana to Baptiste.”

He is hot-blooded and deeply romantic, prone to worshipping beautiful things.

For someone like Damian Baptiste, Ariana would be a dangerous temptation indeed.