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Chapter 37
Cassian was growing increasingly restless.
He couldn’t get the image out of his mind of Damia writing a warm reply to someone he didn’t even know.
“No, I’m only here because I’m worried about Damia’s safety,” he told himself.
The door was half-open. Cassian cleared his throat softly, as if to announce his presence.
He had expected Romi to come out, but there was no answer.
Knock knock.
Even when he tried knocking directly, nothing happened.
“Damia.”
Calling her name yielded only silence. Standing there made his anxiety grow.
“Well, the door was open anyway.”
He hesitated briefly but eventually stepped inside.
The room was bathed in sunlight, making him squint as rays poured through the windows.
“No one’s here.”
The room reflected its owner perfectly: immaculate and orderly.
There was barely anything that could be called luggage, just extreme neatness.
It felt as though whoever stayed here had no intention of leaving any trace behind.
The thought gave him a strange feeling, but Cassian held himself back and turned to leave. After all, lingering in an unoccupied room would be impolite.
“What’s that?”
Something lay on the floor: a thin sheet of paper.
Cassian reached out instinctively. He couldn’t leave something that disrupted the perfect order untouched.
It was a letter. Half-filled, it looked like the final page.
Cassian had no intention of meddling in Damia’s private matters. He found other boys constantly interfering in their fiancées’ lives distasteful.
He placed the letter on the table and was about to turn away.
[…the promise we made…]
If the words in the letter hadn’t caught his eye…
[You’ve already forgotten the promise we made, and it was a little hard for me to admit that I was the only one serious about it.]
He really hadn’t intended to read it. Yet, perhaps due to his keen eyesight, the next line drew him in.
A promise? What promise?
Only he had been serious? What did that even mean?
Something about it felt unusual. His gaze slid down to the final line.
[With love,
Arsen.]
Love? Who was Arsen?
A stiffness ran up his neck.
He felt he shouldn’t read any further, but it was hard to look away.
[Be sure to visit Rodion, too.
Everything here is perfect except that you’re not here.]
The moment he read that line, Damia’s voice came clearly to mind.
‘A letter arrived from a friend who recently moved to the Kingdom of Rodion.’
Her only friend who had moved to Rodion.
He hadn’t paid much attention before, assuming it was probably a girl.
He never imagined that this childhood friend would be the calculating type to pour hidden feelings into a neat, disciplined handwriting.
Cassian’s fingers tightened around the letter.
A few days later, Damia hurried to catch up to Cassian as he headed to the training grounds.
“Young Viscount, wait!”
It seemed he was pretending not to hear, because his pace quickened.
“I know everything you heard!”
Finally, Cassian stopped. He slowly turned around, clearly reluctant.
“…What is it?”
Lately, Cassian had been openly avoiding Damia.
Meals together were less frequent, and days with just tea were rare.
Reading together in the study or walking in the garden had disappeared entirely.
Even when Damia offered to help with the flowerbeds, he had stubbornly clung to her side like a boy not usually so forward.
Even when the Duchess arranged meetings, Cassian found excuses to escape.
“So…”
Damia was out of breath from running, but she steadied herself and looked at him intently.
“Did you stop me from sending letters outside the ducal estate?”
“Yes. Problem?”
Could he really say that now!
Damia’s frustration boiled. She could tolerate him avoiding her recently, but she couldn’t accept such unfair interference.
“Why all of a sudden? At least give me a reason.”
“I caught another spy.”
“Wha—really?”
Cassian nodded.
“We’re tightening security. Someone could intercept letters and steal information.”
“But…”
“So, even if it’s inconvenient, I hope you cooperate.”
It seemed it wasn’t mere mischief; there was a reasonable explanation.
“And it’s not that you can’t send letters at all. Didn’t the butler tell you?”
“Huh?”
“After I check it, you can send them.”
Damia’s grip on the letter to Arsen tightened.
“Don’t misunderstand. It’s not about reading every word—it’s just a procedure to make sure there’s nothing sensitive for security reasons.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Do you think I want to read everyone’s letters?”
Cassian glanced at her hand and muttered,
“This is just a special circumstance. I have plenty of more important things to deal with.”
There was logic in what he said.
Yet she couldn’t shake the memory of him begging a few days ago to see Arsen’s letter.
“Sorry, Young Viscount. Since you’ve been avoiding me, I thought you were upset with me and even blocking letters.”
Cassian’s mouth snapped shut. He looked slightly embarrassed.
“If it’s for an official reason, you don’t need to review this one.”
“Why?”
“It’s a completely personal letter to my friend. There’s nothing important in it.”
Cassian’s eyebrows twitched slightly.
“A completely personal letter?”
“Yes.”
Since there was nothing suspicious, Damia stood confidently.
“Still, give it to me. I’ll check it and then you can send it.”
“That’s… a bit difficult.”
Cassian reached out, but Damia instinctively stepped back.
It was a letter to Arsen; she didn’t particularly want to show it.
“Why? Even if you think it’s harmless, it could be risky.”
“It’s truly a private letter. There’s nothing in it that anyone could object to.”
“Then why is it not okay for me to see it?”
Damia froze. She only moved her lips slightly, and he stepped closer.
“It’s to a friend? Which friend?”
“My childhood friend.”
“Ah, the only one?”
Cassian chuckled. He was now staring at Damia intently.
“The one who moved to Rodion?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Letters going abroad need extra caution. If you want to send it, give it here.”
It sounded reasonable.
Damia glanced at her hand holding the letter. Showing it would be fine; there was nothing to hide.
“Here.”
She finally placed the letter in Cassian’s palm.
“……”
It seemed Cassian was even more surprised.
“Really? You’re letting me see it?”
His voice was low and tense. His red eyes fixed on the envelope, trying to restrain his desire.
‘Is this really worth the conflict?’
Damia tilted her head in confusion.
“Alright.”
Cassian slowly closed and opened his eyes, then turned his head in refusal.
“Young Viscount?”
“If you’re that eager to send it, do as you like.”
“Huh?”
“But wait a few days. I need to tidy things up a bit first.”
He seemed strangely wounded.
“The person receiving the letter can wait that long too.”
Cassian left, leaving her with an inscrutable remark.
“Your skin is fair and smooth; any style would suit you perfectly.”
“I didn’t realize your features were so delicate, Miss, but taken individually, they’re quite striking!”
“You really look like a fairy!”
Damia was trapped in a flood of compliments that seemed never-ending.
Elena Sarkis had recently invited the most popular designer in the ducal estate.
Even the proudest nobles seemed to lower themselves in front of the Sarkis family.
“The little lady is truly beautiful.”
Elena smiled proudly at the continuous praise.
“Silver hair and purple eyes—no need for extravagant dresses or accessories!”
“Still, better to have more than not enough.”
Elena gestured.
“Bring everything. Don’t leave anything out.”
Cheers erupted from the staff in the wardrobe room.
Such a sudden onslaught of clothes!
‘Mother must have noticed already.’
Amid all the excitement, Damia bit her lip softly.
