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Chapter 4
The hand gripping the chair so tightly it might break trembled uncontrollably.
One of them—the young lady—had left the room some time ago, and the man leaning in as if to kiss her was a knight of the ducal house.
She didn’t know his name, but his face was familiar from passing encounters. There was no way she wouldn’t recognize him.
“What should I do? What should I…”
Of course, the best choice was to pretend she hadn’t seen anything at all.
Betty took a deep breath and composed her thoughts.
Yes. In this mansion, if something wasn’t her business, she had to pretend not to know and forget it.
Like the fact that the young lady, who was engaged to the Grand Duke, had a secret lover.
All she had to do was close her eyes and forget.
‘I saw nothing. I don’t know anything. I finished the letter early and returned to my room.’
Betty recited the mantra in her mind like a spell.
And the moment she sealed the envelope, she left Lady Sharute’s room as quickly as possible.
Having virtually spent the night with her eyes wide open, Betty quietly watched the young lady pick at her soup the next morning.
But Lady Sharute seemed completely unfazed.
“…Where’s Father and Brother?”
“Neither of them will be joining for breakfast.”
It was a common occurrence.
Since joining the household, Betty had rarely seen the Duke or the young master at the table with the young lady, outside of official events.
And when they did cross paths, the interactions were limited to short reprimands or instructions.
“Then I won’t eat either.”
Vivian Sharute stood up abruptly, her chair screeching across the floor.
No matter how much she tried to hide it, disappointment and loneliness were evident on her face.
“…Tell the head chef. I want to go on a picnic this afternoon.”
“Understood.”
It was an odd declaration.
But then Betty remembered: whenever the young lady went outside the mansion, one of the house knights accompanied her as escort.
‘Could it be the same knight from yesterday?’
Still, if the reason Lady Sharute clung to her lover was because of her father’s and brother’s coldness, there was one small silver lining.
She had completely forgotten about the letter to the Grand Duke.
“Do you think this dress suits me? Or maybe this one?”
“The weather’s nice today, so something bright might be good.”
The young lady soon began to hum, cheerfully preparing to go out.
And the letter? It was delivered as Betty had sealed it—without even a glance.
✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎
As the Grand Duke had warned, no reply came.
For reasons she didn’t quite understand, Betty felt strangely disappointed by the Grand Duke’s silence.
In the meantime, the summer ball came and went without incident.
Though the ruby ring was ignored, the diamond necklace—clearly a costly, custom-crafted piece—stood out among the Grand Duke’s gifts and was chosen for display.
It adorned the young lady’s neck on the day of the ball and drew everyone’s attention.
“Goodness, the Grand Duke must be truly devoted to the young lady.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to get married the moment he returns.”
The Duke subtly expressed his desire to hasten the marriage.
Lady Sharute’s face, which had worn a pleased smile all evening while admiring the dazzling diamond, briefly scrunched up at those words.
Only Betty noticed the fleeting grimace.
Meanwhile, the Emperor, who attended the ball, quietly summoned both Duke Sharute and the young lady.
Through the Emperor’s words, they learned why the Grand Duke hadn’t replied to the letter.
‘The Grand Duke was gravely injured. He’s mostly recovered now, so don’t worry, young lady.’
It had been classified information, hence the lack of communication. Though there was no need for concern anymore, they were advised not to speak of it openly.
Despite the secrecy, Betty found out for a very simple reason.
“He got hurt. Not too badly, though.”
Lady Sharute shared the news with Betty herself, during the carriage ride home from the ball.
“Is the only thing people ever want to talk to me about the Grand Duke? Whatever the topic, it always ends up being about him.”
She seemed irritated that everyone only wanted to discuss how perfect she was as a match for the Grand Duke. Her grumbling continued well into the next day.
When the complaints finally started to ease, Betty carefully broached the subject.
“My lady, wouldn’t it be proper to send a letter wishing him a swift recovery?”
It was something Betty never would have dared to say before.
But she truly worried for the Grand Duke, and for the first time, she took the initiative to write a letter herself.
“What’s the point? Didn’t His Majesty say it himself? That he’s recovering well?”
The young lady seemed especially moody. But Betty couldn’t shake the unease, so she tried once more.
“I just thought the Duke would want you to.”
“…Yeah, he probably would scold me if I didn’t. Better to get a compliment than a lecture. You’re right. Just jot something down, quickly.”
The young lady muttered with clear displeasure and left for a garden stroll, unable to sit still even for a moment.
‘Isn’t she being a bit careless?’
It was almost like Lady Sharute wanted someone to catch on to her actions.
Perhaps her yearning for affection blinded her to everything else.
“…The Grand Duke really is okay, isn’t he?”
Betty steadied her slightly trembling hand as she picked up the quill.
The Emperor had said it himself—the Grand Duke was fine.
That was the only reassurance she had.
“To His Grace, the Grand Duke Dayban,
I only just learned of your injury yesterday at the ball, through His Majesty.
I can’t tell you how shocked I was when I heard.
If you sent your gift while already injured, and I was here, blissfully unaware… I can hardly believe it.
You must have thought me such a foolish girl, babbling on without a clue. I’m truly sorry.
I sincerely hope you’ve recovered much by now, and that by the time this letter reaches you, you’ll be completely well again…”
“…What’s this?”
Half sitting up in bed, Ian Dayban scanned a report when a familiar seal caught his eye.
It was a letter from Lady Sharute.
“The young lady wrote to you, sir?”
“Seems like it.”
His reply to his aide, who was organizing reports nearby, was nonchalant.
But the hand opening the envelope carried a hint of urgency.
Ian’s aide, Cain, wore a strange expression.
He alone knew the Grand Duke had recently begun looking forward to letters from a certain someone—a not-so-secret secret.
“Looks like His Majesty informed the Sharute family of my injury.”
“Even if the marriage is inevitable, isn’t that a bit much?”
“Roy was making his wishes subtly but firmly known. That marrying the lady is still the best option to supplement my lacking bloodline and social standing.”
Publicly, Grand Duke Ian and Emperor Royd were considered a strictly military duo.
But in truth, they were more like close friends.
Back when Royd was still a prince, Ian had saved his life several times.
And once Royd took the throne, he wasted no time declaring Ian’s ducal status official the moment he returned from war with enough achievements.
‘Even if I give you my full support, I can’t build your foundations for you.’
Ian was an exceptional commander, true.
But no one man could uphold an entire ducal house.
Royd wanted the one person he trusted unconditionally to stand firm.
“At least the young lady seems like a good person. Based on her letters, I wouldn’t believe she’s the same icy woman we saw at the ball.”
“…Yeah.”
Ian ran his calloused hand across the smooth paper.
Unlike her usual tidy handwriting, this one was hastily scrawled.
Reading it made his heart stir.
He felt a pang of guilt—an emotion that showed faintly on his face, prompting a question.
“Is something wrong?”
“I must’ve frightened her. I feel bad.”
“Not as much as I was. That was the one battle I wasn’t at your side, and you come back wounded? I nearly died from shock.”
Cain seized the opportunity to launch into a stream of complaints.
“And you still haven’t apologized to me. Come to think of it, this might be the first time I’ve heard you say sorry.”
“Cain.”
Despite Ian’s stern tone, the long-time aide didn’t stop venting.
“…And lately, you’ve been all about the letters. You don’t even care about your poor aide anymore. You’ll wear the paper thin at this rate.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Oh, please. During sparring, you suddenly stop and smile—and it’s terrifying. I know the reason, but the others think you’ve come up with some sadistic new training regimen.”
“I didn’t realize training had become so easy that they had time to worry about my facial expressions. In that case, I can increase the workload.”
Faced with Ian’s calm but intense navy-blue gaze, Cain quickly raised both hands in mock surrender and stood.
“Oh no, my tea’s gone cold. I’ll just go fetch a fresh one…”
“Cain.”
“I really don’t want extra training! And by the way, no matter how much better you feel, no intense sparring yet!”
“…Sorry.”
Cain and Ian shared an old bond, as close as that of the Emperor and the Grand Duke. Ian meant to show that he understood Cain’s genuine concern.
Cain opened his mouth, then closed it again, several times, before slumping his shoulders and muttering,
“I don’t know what Lady Sharute’s been writing to you, but you’ve gotten soft.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No. It suits you. You need some softness in your life. I’ll stop bothering you now. Enjoy your letter.”
As soon as Cain left to fetch more tea, Ian returned his gaze to the letter, deep in thought.
Every letter the young lady sent seemed to capture a bright, vibrant person in ink.
That was why, even after putting them away in a box, he’d find himself pulling them out again to reread without realizing it.
“…I should end this war before the year is out.”
Unlike his men, who had families waiting for them, the end of war meant nothing more than the end of duty for Ian Dayban.
But now, for the first time, he found himself wishing for it to end.
He wanted to meet the warm, sincere person behind these letters—
And talk to her in person.
