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Chapter 09
“I’m back.”
Damia slowly opened the doors of the mansion, expecting no one to be there to greet her.
Given the Ponti family’s financial situation, they couldn’t pay their servants properly, so this was already a familiar occurrence.
“Damia, come over here.”
From the living room—where she had assumed no one would be—came the voice of Marquis Ponti.
Damia let out a small sigh and reluctantly took a few steps forward.
“Did you visit the Sarkis Duke’s residence?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
The image of the Young Duke coughing up blood flashed in her mind, but Damia deliberately answered calmly. She didn’t want her father to see her unsettled feelings.
“Judging from the marriage proposal he sent, it seems the Young Duke is quite fond of you.”
Marquis Ponti looked somewhat softened after seeing the marriage proposal sealed with the crest of the Duke of Sarkis’s family.
“I told you, we’re passionately in love.”
“I still find it hard to believe… but well, you are quite beautiful.”
“Yes, I’m so glad I inherited my mother’s looks.”
Unlike usual, the father, who would sharpen his words whenever the late marquise was mentioned, responded in a mild tone.
‘Does he want to ask me for something?’
Damia furrowed her brows, and Marquis Ponti cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Um… besides the gift to celebrate your engagement, did you receive anything else?”
“Excuse me?”
“Land, perhaps… or maybe financial assistance could be arranged.”
Damia’s eyes widened.
“I haven’t even had my debutante ball yet. It’ll be a long time before I officially marry.”
“Tch, who doesn’t know that?”
“Father, really… isn’t it a bit shameless to already make such demands?”
“The Young Duke cares for you so much that he pushed through this engagement despite the difference in status.”
The Marquis eyed Damia discreetly while licking his lips.
“You can see how sincere he is from the amount of money he spends.”
So it was money again. Just like in her previous life, her father remained shamelessly straightforward.
Damia couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Count Favron promised considerable financial support even before the wedding. So it makes sense for the Young Duke to show his goodwill as well…”
“Father!”
“Why raise your voice?”
“Isn’t this a little too much?”
“Damia, do you realize how much you’d lose if the Young Duke were to change his mind? A father worries about his daughter getting hurt, you should understand that.”
“You’re not worried about me, you’re worried that you might miss the chance to sell me at a higher price.”
“Damia, what kind of habit of speech is that?!”
Her father shouted, stung by the truth in her words.
“I don’t want to hear anymore. I trust the Young Duke.”
As long as that purple herb existed, the terminally ill Cassian couldn’t betray her. Any further conversation was pointless.
Just as Damia stood to return to her room—
“Butler, even if the Duchess of Sarkis allows the engagement, do you think she would really permit the marriage?”
“If you’re asking my opinion… I think it would be difficult.”
“Then there’s no immediate gain here. Count Favron would have been the better choice.”
“Actually, it is a bit of a difficult situation. Even juggling finances has its limits…”
“Tch. Is there no hope with Count Favron now?”
“Ah, fortunately, Count Favron…”
His voice was lowered, perhaps out of consideration for Damia, but the room was small, and she could hear everything.
“I can hear you, Father.”
Damia stopped abruptly, glaring at the two of them.
“I don’t care for anyone but the Young Duke of Sarkis, so don’t say anything that could cause trouble.”
Everything had become tiresome.
If she wanted to sever her previous life’s ill fate and start anew, it seemed the only option was to flee to the kingdom.
When she arrived at her small but cozy room, a letter was lying on her desk.
At that moment, the frown she had carried because of her father and the butler softened.
There was only one person who would send her letters at this time.
“Arcen?”
Damia quickly grabbed the envelope.
Seeing the familiar name on the front made her smile.
“It’s been so long.”
Arcen was the eldest son of Mr. Kadis, a commoner who had succeeded as a businessman, and Damia’s only childhood friend.
Being a noble girl yet as poor as a commoner, Damia had always been somewhat of an awkward presence among her peers.
‘Nobody played with me except kind Arcen.’
But as the Kadis family’s business expanded, they fled to the neighboring Kingdom of Rodion.
The day Arcen left, Damia was heartbroken, while Marquis Ponti seemed as delighted as if a painful tooth had been extracted.
He had always shuddered at the thought of a commoner mingling with a noble girl.
‘Father was anxious that I might insist on marrying Arcen later.’
For a man whose only possession was his fragile noble pride, a commoner son-in-law was a worse humiliation than dying of hunger.
Even though the Ponti family was on the brink of bankruptcy and Mr. Kadis was wealthier than most nobles.
‘Anyway, it was a needless worry. We were just friends.’
Perhaps Arcen had been unusually handsome for the village, making her father more particular.
Damia had always had a discerning eye from a young age.
‘When exactly did I lose contact with Arcen in my previous life?’
Including her past life, it had been so long ago it felt almost forgotten.
‘I’ll come to see you again, so wait. You must never forget me!’
That boy, like spring flowers, had worried for her even as they fled to the Kingdom of Rodion.
In her previous life, Arcen had inherited his father’s business and established himself steadily in Rodion.
‘Arcen has kept his childhood promise.’
He had truly come to meet Damia again as an adult.
The count wished to do business with the Kingdom of Rodion and cultivate connections with the successful businessman, Mr. Kadis.
And so, he invited his son, who happened to be visiting the empire, to the mansion.
‘The count had no idea we were childhood friends.’
In any case, the count maintained his persona as a devoted husband in front of Arcen.
But as soon as they were alone, he turned violently again.
Perhaps the memory had been so horrific that she had, despite swearing never to forget, already let the boy fade from her mind.
‘Wait.’
Damia paused as she cut open the envelope with a knife.
‘If it’s Arcen, maybe he could help with my exile.’
For moving to the kingdom, there seemed to be no stronger ally.
Perhaps Damia could even be of help to Arcen in return.
She had always been interested in the herbal business the Ponti family had long abandoned.
Her eyes began to sparkle.
A few days later, Cassian invited Damia to the Duke’s residence.
‘A boat ride on the lake… has the Young Duke’s condition improved a bit?’
While tilting her head in curiosity, a luxurious carriage arrived at the mansion.
“Young Duke! I didn’t expect you to be out here.”
Cassian was waiting alone for Damia at the entrance of what looked almost like a castle.
“Are you feeling any better? I was very worried.”
“I’m fine.”
It seemed to be no lie—his handsome face had regained its color, shining with health.
‘I lost sleep worrying about him…’
The boy before her seemed completely healthy, as if her concern had been unnecessary.
She had been anxious about possible side effects from the medicine, but it appeared to have been unfounded.
“Have you been wanting to see me these past few days too, Young Duke? Is that why you’re here?”
“No, I only came out to greet my fiancée. It’s just basic courtesy.”
His habitual boundary-setting remained unchanged, and everything was exactly as usual.
However…
‘Why do you keep avoiding my eyes?’
Cassian kept glancing not at her eyes, but at her fingertips, as if there was something he found difficult to say.
