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Chapter 8
“What did you say?!”
“Oh my goodness, my lady!”
The two women shouted in shock. Calliope calmly continued her explanation.
“Looks like the commoner woman he sweet-talked into dating got pregnant, and he dumped her as soon as that happened. He didn’t even acknowledge the illegitimate child.”
“What a piece of trash—too foul to even burn!”
Agnes snapped her quill pen in her fury. Sylvia muttered darkly.
“He’s a waste of air.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Calliope agreed bluntly.
“I don’t know how Grandfather found out something even Agnes couldn’t dig up, but I haven’t seen him that angry in a long time.”
“Of course he’s furious! That scumbag tried to hide such a filthy past and marry you! I’m sure he’ll be paying dearly for it.”
“Looks like he’s already making moves. I think he plans to hold not only the man accountable, but his whole family.”
“It’s actually fortunate we found out now. If you’d gone out with someone like that, not only would it have been a huge waste of time, but the Count’s reputation would’ve been in ruins too.”
Agnes spoke as she drew a big red X across the twelfth suitor’s profile.
“If we take this as a lesson, we’ll find someone much better next time—”
But suddenly, her words cut off, and her face went rigid.
‘Wait a second… how many candidates are even left?’
Agnes scrambled to grab the stack of remaining suitor documents.
She began flipping through them one by one.
Only a few profiles had survived the onslaught of red ink.
‘And even those have their own issues…’
Agnes squinted at the endless list of disqualifications she’d written in her notebook.
After mentally striking out a few more names, she was left with just one document.
‘Oh no.’
Agnes silently cried out when she saw whose profile it was.
‘Dear heavens, was my offering last month not enough? Why must You test me like this?’
Just then, while she was in the depths of despair, Calliope’s voice reached her ears.
“Agnes, I think it’s best we meet the next candidate as soon as possible.”
Agnes’s eyes wavered as she looked down at the noble name printed on the final profile.
It was that document—the one she had kept pushing to the bottom of the pile.
Because, considering their history, it was completely absurd.
Thanks to a string of recent events, the relationship between the two had practically imploded.
‘No—scratch that. It has imploded.’
But still, Agnes hesitated.
‘Still… there’s no other man who fits the criteria this well.’
She hadn’t burned it immediately, hoping maybe, just maybe…
Her animal-like instinct as the “Mad Dog of Verdi” had kicked in.
‘No doubt about it.’
This man could definitely pass Archibald Verdi’s exacting standards.
Agnes swallowed hard.
She knew she shouldn’t. But when she thought about all the other failed candidates, her eyes kept drifting toward the forbidden option.
‘Let’s just do it. It’s easier to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission, right? Besides, it’s all for the Count’s sake…’
In the end, Agnes gave in to temptation.
Forcing a smile, she looked toward her oblivious employer and replied awkwardly.
“Yes, Countess. I’ll arrange the meeting right away.”
✦✦✦
And so, the day of the thirteenth matchmaking meeting arrived.
Calliope arrived at the designated tea house and took a moment to compose herself.
Ding! The door opened with a pleasant chime, revealing an interior decorated with elegant sculptures.
Beyond the counter, a partition obscured the view of the tables.
‘That must be him.’
A faint shadow of a person appeared behind the semi-opaque curtain.
With her sharp observational skills, Calliope scanned the silhouette of the man.
‘Out of all the men I’ve seen, this silhouette might be the best-looking yet.’
Impressed, Calliope stepped inside. The quiet space echoed with the sound of her expensive heels clicking on the floor.
Just then, the shadow behind the partition stretched taller.
‘Whoa. He’s really tall.’
He was clearly a large man. Even just his silhouette conveyed broad shoulders and a solid frame.
Who could he be? A small spark of hope ignited in her heart.
Maybe—just maybe—this time, the man might pass her grandfather’s impossibly high standards.
‘No. Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’ve been disappointed twelve times already.’
A large hand reached out and drew the partition aside.
Reflexively, Calliope began her greeting.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Calliope Verdi—”
She wore her brightest smile—only for her face to twist into a grimace the moment she saw who it was.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me…’
Agnes had promised this time would be different. That she could get her hopes up.
Calliope had thought it was strange that Agnes couldn’t meet her eyes.
She trembled with betrayal.
“This time it’s for real, I swear. Above all, they say he’s very handsome.”
“The last guy looked fine too, though?”
“But this one’s a swordsman. He’s in great shape! According to the reports, he’s got amazing pecs and thick thighs and could keep you very satisfied day and night—”
“Agnes.”
“Apologies. I got a little carried away.”
To be fair, if we were judging by criteria alone, Agnes hadn’t been wrong. The issue was:
‘It just had to be this guy.’
The sunlight streaming in through the windows glinted off his hair, dark as the night sky. His flawless skin gleamed as usual.
A face many would consider divinely beautiful—except for the woman sitting across from him.
To put it bluntly…
‘I hate him.’
She couldn’t stand the sight of him.
“Lerazier.”
The man whose name she called smiled slyly, his golden eyes gleaming like a fox.
He was the 7th Prince of the Empire, the so-called masterpiece of the Arenfreed Imperial Family.
And Calliope Verdi’s most detested enemy.
Lerazier Dion Arenfreed.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Instead of answering, he stretched his lips into an infuriatingly lazy grin.
Something’s definitely off. Calliope rolled her eyes.
‘Don’t tell me he’s here to get revenge for that incident?’
Her brilliant mind began whirring, replaying the events of their graduation ceremony a month ago.
The memory of what should’ve been the luckiest day of her life.
Calliope, now in a foul mood, muttered under her breath.
“Knew it. Bad omens before a big event mean you’re cursed.”
She barely moved her lips, but it was enough for Lerazier’s sharp ears to pick it up.
“Don’t blame me, Calliope Verdi. It’s not my fault the Marquess wants a perfect grandson-in-law.”
“Did I say it was?”
Calliope feigned ignorance, but inside, she winced.
‘I forgot this playboy is a Sword Master.’
Lerazier was one of the few on the continent who had reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship—and at the youngest recorded age.
It was foolish to judge him by normal human standards.
If she let her guard down, he would tear her apart at the seams. So Calliope chose to act confidently.
She strutted over and sat across from him, staring him straight in the eye.
“Alright. Start talking. Why are you here?”
Polite language had long since gone out the window.
Lerazier tilted his annoyingly pretty face and flashed that insufferable smile.
“I missed you.”
Her brow twitched at the absurd line.
‘What the hell is wrong with him?’
Did he eat something weird?
She frowned, confused. Meanwhile, Lerazier’s grin only deepened.
He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table.
“Coming here was worth it after all.”
In that moment, the distance she’d carefully maintained between them was cut down drastically.
Seriously, it was such a waste of good looks.
If only the Creator had worked as hard on his personality as on that face.
“You said, ‘it was a pleasure never seeing you again,’ remember?”
“…”
“…”
“And yet, here we are.”
Calliope’s eyebrow twitched violently.
