🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 48
“Having trouble sleeping, Young Viscount?”
Walking down the corridor in frustration, Cassian came face-to-face with Arsen, the very source of his irritation.
“I’m enjoying myself, thanks to your invitation.”
A smooth face in guest pajamas, glossy brown hair.
Cassian’s eyebrows twitched at how carefree Arsen looked—so different from the sullen expression he’d worn earlier.
“What do you want to say?”
“I just wanted to thank you properly.”
“Forget it.”
“I’m sincere, so it’s disappointing, Young Viscount.”
A polite smile graced his handsome face, but to Cassian it felt entirely fake.
“There is one more thing that surprised me about coming here.”
“What’s that?”
“Damia’s attitude. Honestly, when she suddenly got engaged, I thought she might have fallen in love at first sight.”
Arsen smiled faintly. The expression reminded him strangely of Damia, which made Cassian’s stomach twist.
“You noticed that exactly. Why?”
“Well… surprisingly, it doesn’t seem like that at all.”
Even rumors suggested that even the Queen of Rodion favored his father’s trading company.
Could this explain why, despite being of common birth, he acted so unhesitatingly?
“Seems like your eyesight is poor.”
“I was really surprised. Even with such a perfect fiancé in front of her, Damia’s attention is entirely elsewhere.”
“What nonsense.”
“Yet she doesn’t seem to genuinely believe or wait for her future as a Duchess.”
Cassian clenched his fists tightly. That was because he couldn’t promise her a future—he was running out of time.
“Then I got curious why Damia got engaged to you, Young Viscount.”
“……”
“Was it because you needed her?”
Arsen didn’t seem to realize the nature of the arrangement between them.
He assumed Cassian liked Damia and had hastily pushed the engagement forward.
But his observation was oddly accurate.
Between Damia and Cassian, the one who needed the other more desperately was the one with limited time—Cassian.
Whether because of the medicine, physical contact, or…
“Or… what?”
Cassian bit his lip tightly. Thinking too deeply was dangerous.
“Perhaps she’s just cautious because you’re such an impressive person.”
Damia said it so naturally, as if Cassian was far too valuable to waste on jealousy.
She pretended to be harmless in front of Damia, but revealed her sharpness in front of Cassian.
Her nerve was extraordinary—usually, it would have been the other way around.
“Anyway, thank you for looking after my precious friend while I was away.”
That audacious thank-you stirred anger in Cassian’s chest.
He had a feeling he would come to intensely dislike that brat.
Damia sat at the tea table in the rear garden of the Ducal Residence, tilting her cup.
Since Cassian had tidied it up, the space had become serene.
“Did you call for me, Miss?”
A burly man with a hood approached. Her father was out, and Romi had sent the servants away, leaving them alone.
“Welcome, Luke.”
Having spent years together, their bond had grown strong. Damia spared no effort in rewarding him, and Luke did anything she commanded.
“No one’s around, so you can show your face.”
“Yes, understood.”
Luke slowly removed his worn hood and cloak.
His burnt, scarred skin had become smooth, with no traces of stubble.
His clothes under the cloak were of fine fabric, and even his shoes gleamed.
Two years ago, he had looked like someone freshly emerged from an abandoned mine. Now, he looked not only neat but wealthy.
“Wow, I’m really proud of myself.”
“Thanks to you, Miss.”
Damia had invested part of the profits from her herbal business to improve Luke’s appearance.
“People trust me more than I expected, just like you said.”
Recently, Luke had been attending secret gatherings of men under the alias “L.”
Thanks to Damia’s memories, L had gained a reputation as a discerning investor. His refined appearance reinforced that trust.
“Even Count Pavron seems to trust my words completely.”
Damia’s violet eyes sparkled.
“When he heard that funding might stop due to a lack of money, Count Pavron personally gathered investors.”
Perhaps because Cassian had cut off a few funding sources, Count Pavron’s attention was narrow, making him easily swayed by Luke.
“Keep stirring the pot. I’m thinking about when to strike and pull back.”
“Miss, honestly, I’m intrigued. Is it true there’s no gold in the Ortiga Mountains?”
“Hm, I’m glad it sounded convincing to you, Luke.”
“No, I mean it. There are even rumors of placer gold in nearby streams.”
Even in her previous life, Count Pavron had partly believed this investment, so it was understandable Luke was tempted.
But back then, Pavron had at least some rationality left.
Noticing suspicious details at the last moment, he had quietly made a way out.
And he had shoved Lord Fonti into the trap. Her father had gambled everything in a reckless investment and gone bankrupt.
“Even the old maps mark it as the Golden Cliffs, right?”
“Oh, you mean that map?”
“I did stir up some rumors per your instructions, but that map was genuinely ancient.”
“Right. That one’s real.”
“Yet there’s no gold there?”
Damia smiled wryly.
“Luke, just because it’s golden doesn’t mean it’s really gold.”
“But….”
Her father had lost everything in that investment in his previous life and fell ill, dying soon after. Damia remembered it vividly.
There was no gold in the Ortiga Mountains. From afar, it looked more golden than pure gold, but in reality, it was worthless fools’ gold—pyrite piled up.
“Yes, Miss, I’ll believe you.”
Two years ago, Luke had been badly injured by a wolf-type monster. No treatment could completely remove the lingering magical energy, and he might eventually have needed to amputate his arm.
It was essentially a death sentence for a mercenary, but thanks to Damia’s ointment, he survived. His comrades had survived similarly.
Since then, Luke had been almost absolutely loyal to Damia.
“I haven’t found any clues regarding your mother yet. I’m sorry.”
Damia trusted him enough to assign even personal matters to him.
“It’s okay. I didn’t expect it to be easy.”
“I still feel guilty.”
“I know you’re working hard alone. You have to act discreetly, so it’s hard to attach anyone else to the task.”
The former steward of the Ducal Residence had told her that her mother held grudges. Since hearing that, Damia had investigated her mother consistently, but still found nothing.
At first, she thought it was because her mother wasn’t the wife of an important figure and had little family support.
But the deeper she dug, the stranger it seemed. It was as if someone had deliberately erased all traces—she could find no information.
“Perhaps it’s about time I take action myself.”
“Eh? You, Miss, personally?”
“Yes. Why are you so surprised?”
Luke blinked, as if he couldn’t believe it.
“You don’t usually like public activities.”
He understood her concern, but Damia had already made up her mind.
At fifteen, she was fairly tall, and thanks to her past life’s experience, she could easily act like a noblewoman.
Her youthful face was no problem if she wore a mask.
“Just act like a noblewoman from Rodion. That’s why I asked for the fake identification recently.”
Damia rolled her teacup with her fingertips.
“Did you think I had claimed all the things I made so far were from Rodion? Now the real owner will pretend to appear in the Empire.”
Luke let out a short sigh. He seemed to realize there was no stopping Damia.
“I plan to use this identity later. I might even go to Rodion for real someday.”
“Are you serious, Miss?”
“Yes. Romi said it’s a perfect plan.”
“Please, take care of yourself. Please,”
His eyes showed the concern of someone who genuinely regarded her like a younger sister.
If Cassian claimed he treated Damia like a sister, he could learn a thing or two from Luke.
