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Chapter 31
“Miss, it’s absolutely beautiful!”
Marie seemed to have already fallen for the Duke of Cameon, whom she had never even met.
“It looks like Duke Cameon really likes you, miss. Such a gorgeous dress! It feels like a dream!”
If only it really were a dream.
Dorothy’s face—someone who had already been handed the date of her social death—didn’t relax even as Marie opened the gift box sent from the House of Cameon.
Dorothy stared gloomily at the pale sky-blue, voluminous dress. It was no wonder Marie was making such a fuss. It really was beautiful.
Layered over the light blue fabric was organza of the same tone, pleated delicately—perfectly to Dorothy’s taste. She didn’t usually favor full dresses, and yet… this one was just too pretty.
Touching the dress with a somber expression, Dorothy wondered where it had been tailored. As far as she knew, the Duke of Cameon had no interest in fashion. Maybe he had better aesthetic sense than expected.
“Miss, isn’t this mask gorgeous too? And the necklace—and the shoes!”
The Duke of Cameon.
In Dorothy’s mind, the man newly registered as a complete lunatic turned out to be astonishingly generous. She’d heard from Robes that only a dress would be sent, but once the wrapping was removed, there was a sapphire necklace that clearly matched the dress, sky-blue crystal shoes as if dyed to match, and even an ornate mask.
“Would you like to try it on now? Just to check if anything needs adjusting!”
Why should I wear something sent by the man who caused my impending social suicide?! she thought, but—
“…Shall I?”
Clothes weren’t guilty of anything, after all. And this blue dress seemed to be insisting she try it on.
“Yes! It’ll look amazing on you!”
Marie chimed in excitedly, and in the end Dorothy nodded with a gloomy face. Marie hurriedly called over the other maids, who began helping Dorothy into the dress—legs in, arms through.
And astonishingly, the beautiful dress fit Dorothy perfectly.
“It’s perfect!”
“It fits you exactly!”
Marie and the other maids exclaimed one after another. Dorothy felt the same. Reflected in the mirror, she looked… flawless.
“It’s really… so beautiful.”
A blue dress with not a millimeter of error, as if it had finally found its rightful owner. What was with this perfect color, as though it had been dyed by soaking it in Dorothy’s blue eyes?
Even the soft rustling of the full skirt brushing against her legs felt wonderfully pleasant. If she danced in this dress, she felt like she could dance beautifully, fluttering like a butterfly.
Suddenly, Dorothy felt her throat tighten.
No! I can’t!
I can’t turn such a beautiful dress into burial clothes!
Bang, bang.
“Mr. Vitus! Are you in there?”
Returning to Papam Street took courage, but Dorothy was past the point of caring.
If her life was on the line, ignoring the Duke of Cameon’s invitation and getting on the bad side of Marchioness Moven, or getting unlucky and mugged in Papam Street—either way, the danger level felt about the same.
So what if it was?
Dorothy’s misfortune had essentially begun the moment Norobin Moven joined her so-called harem, and again the moment she was attacked by an assassin in the mountains of Serin Province.
“Mr. Vitus! It’s me.”
“Which bastard is it—if you break the door, you’re paying fo—Dorothy?”
After several knocks, the door opened. Vitus, wearing a fierce expression as if he were about to beat whoever had been knocking, froze mid-sentence.
“How did you end up here, Lady Dorothy Sailor…?”
“I have a favor to ask!”
“…A favor? From me?”
Vitus looked at Dorothy, clearly flustered and troubled.
“Well then… please, come in first.”
With a determined face, Dorothy followed him inside. The pink extravaganza of the office was unchanged, but it seemed Vitus had been busy—piles of documents were scattered around his desk.
Come to think of it, his complexion looked much worse than the last time she’d seen him.
“You’re very busy, aren’t you?”
“Ah… yes, unfortunately.”
Vitus answered briefly, rubbing his face.
“We’ve never held the Duke of Cameon’s birthday party on such a grand scale before, so it’s not easy. And given the timing, he could have shown some restraint.”
Dorothy felt a sense of camaraderie at that.
“I think so too!”
“…?”
Vitus stared at her in disbelief. Everyone else might think that—but you? He remembered the duke’s explicit order not to tell Dorothy the truth.
“This really isn’t like Duke Cameon.”
Dorothy voiced her dissatisfaction bluntly.
“Well… that’s true.”
Vitus agreed, even though the person presumed to be the cause of this “un-Duke-like” behavior was the very woman standing in front of him.
“But what brings you here today?”
“Oh—do you happen to know where Mr. Lyle is?”
“Y-you mean… Lord Lyle?”
“Yes.”
Vitus studied Dorothy quietly, trying to read her intentions.
“When I thought about it, I realized I don’t actually know where Lyle is staying.”
At the ducal residence, obviously.
To be honest, Vitus couldn’t understand Dorothy at all.
How could she not know?
The Duke of Cameon wasn’t hiding his face—he was practically chasing her in broad daylight. How could she miss it?
The only plausible explanation was that Dorothy Sailor had incorrect information regarding the duke’s whereabouts. Most of what she knew was accurate—except for that one crucial point.
And honestly, it was fortunate that part hadn’t been uncovered. With assassins constantly targeting the duke, revealing his exact location would have been a serious security risk. Still—how could she not recognize that face? Was there another man in the capital as handsome as the duke?
One look should’ve been enough.
“Since you’re Mr. Lyle’s colleague, I thought you might know where he’s staying. Do you?”
“I do. He said he’d stop by here today as well.”
“Oh? Really? When?”
Dorothy’s face lit up.
“He just said sometime in the afternoon.”
“That’s wonderful!”
Was it really? Vitus felt a sense of dread at the sparkle in Dorothy’s eyes. What was this bad feeling?
“I’m sorry, Mr. Vitus, but could I wait here for a bit? I’ll stay very quiet. I won’t interfere with your work at all. I need to apologize to Mr. Lyle—and there’s something I want to ask him, too.”
“A… favor?”
“I think I misunderstood Mr. Lyle before.”
“A misunderstanding?”
“Yes. From the moment we first met, he kept saying he was close to Duke Cameon, that he knew him well, and I thought it was all lies. At first, I even wondered if he was some kind of human trafficker… But seeing things now, it seems it was all true.”
“I-is that so…?”
“Yes. I was immature. If I’d known things would turn out like this, I would’ve trusted him more.”
Vitus tried hard to ignore his ominous premonition, but the gleam in Dorothy’s eyes showed no sign of fading.
“But it’s okay.”
Dorothy smiled brightly.
“Since Mr. Lyle is close to the duke—and since I have a special relationship with Mr. Lyle.”
“…?”
“Everything will work out!”
Cold sweat ran down Vitus’s back. A shiver ran through his spine. He had no idea what that young lady was thinking, but his instincts were screaming.
I’m dead. The duke is going to kill me.
Lyle arrived at Vitus’s office in the late afternoon. Preparing such a large-scale party hosted by the ducal house—especially a masquerade—had involved endless complications.
He let Vitus complain as much as he liked because he knew how hard he’d been working.
“Oh! You’re here!”
Dorothy sprang up from the sofa and walked cheerfully toward Lyle.
“Miss Dorothy?”
Lyle was surprised to see her, but he soon asked in a gentle voice,
“What brings you here?”
Vitus was sweating profusely, anxiously watching the duke’s reaction.
“I came to apologize to Mr. Lyle. Turns out the Duke of Cameon really did throw a grand birthday party, just like you said. He even invited me.”
Dorothy grumbled.
“I heard you received a dress,”
“Oh, you heard? Yes. I did. A full set—from head to toe.”
“Did you like it?”
At Lyle’s question, Dorothy slightly furrowed her brows.
“…Hmm. A little… No, honestly, it really was beautiful. I’ve never seen a dress so insistently begging to be worn. It made me wonder where on earth it was ordered from.”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
Lyle smiled softly. Dorothy still looked dissatisfied, though.
“Still, did you really come all this way just to apologize?”
“To apologize—and to ask a favor, maybe? Mr. Lyle, you said you’re close to the duke. But still, you and I are more special, right? We’ve each owed the other our lives.”
Lyle nodded.
“Yes. That’s true.”
“Because I trust you, I’m telling you this.”
Dorothy took a short, deep breath, then spoke with a resolute expression.
“I actually… don’t like the duke at all!”
