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Chapter 10
“…Could you please let go of me now?”
“No. You’ll run away.”
“I’m wearing a dress. How am I supposed to run?”
“You did fine last time.”
“That wasn’t me.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Ian cut her off without hesitation.
His right hand still gripped the back of Rovellin’s collar tightly.
Because of that, she looked less like she was wearing clothes and more like she was stuffed inside them—an absurd sight.
‘Please, this is humiliating!’
People were snickering nearby, and Rovellin felt like she wanted to dig a hole and disappear.
In the end, she had no choice but to try another tactic.
“Ow—ow, ow!”
“What now?”
“I think I twisted my leg! Ah, it hurts! I can’t run like this anyway!”
“…You’re really something.”
Perhaps finding her effort pitiful, Ian finally let go.
Rovellin, who had practically been half-lifted until now, finally stood properly on her own feet.
“If you run again this time, I’ll really cut your head off.”
“…Y-yes, Your Highness.”
He had clearly seen through her escape attempt again.
And somehow, it felt like he actually meant it this time.
So Rovellin gave up on running.
“…So why did you bring me here?”
“To interrogate you.”
“Pardon?”
“No matter how I think about it, you’re the woman from that day.”
He was persistent. Unbelievably so.
Rovellin narrowed her eyes.
‘Go ahead and ask a hundred times. I’m denying it to my grave.’
While she was making that firm decision, Ian was already walking into a coffeehouse.
“Why are we going in there?”
“I told you. Interrogation.”
“With coffee? That’s kind of—”
“Then we can continue in the Crown Prince’s Palace dungeon instead.”
“I was born to drink coffee.”
Rovellin immediately changed her tone and walked ahead.
Ian followed, the corner of his lips faintly lifted.
“Rovellin Dines.”
As soon as their coffee arrived, Ian spoke with a serious expression.
Rovellin stiffened slightly at her full name.
But what followed was absurd.
“Call me an asshole.”
“…Pardon?”
“Swear at me.”
Rovellin stared at him, speechless.
‘Is this man insane?’
She glanced around nervously and lowered her voice.
“…Do you perhaps have some… unusual preferences you’re trying to explore?”
“I don’t look like I’m joking, do I?”
Ian was dead serious.
And then Rovellin remembered something Cornelia had once said.
“Apparently that lady called His Highness an asshole.”
Oh no. That’s what this is about.
Rovellin’s back broke out in cold sweat, but she kept her composure.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! There’s no evidence—”
“The back.”
“…Pardon?”
“The day of the accident. I saw your back running toward Lady Bennet. That confirmed it—you’re the same woman.”
What? He remembered that?
Rovellin felt like her escape routes were closing in.
But she had prepared for this.
“That day I left the banquet early. If you want, I can show you the dress I wore. Ask anyone who attended.”
There were plenty of white dresses.
She just needed to show something similar and people would accept it.
“Hm.”
Ian simply swirled his coffee, unconcerned.
After a pause, he spoke again.
“Who took you home?”
“Pardon? I-I went alone…”
“Really? Not very popular with gentlemen, are you? Other ladies all had escorts.”
“W-what does that have to do with—”
She started to stand—
“Miss Rovellin?”
A new voice cut in.
A woman with green hair and sharp eyes stood beside them.
“Lady Preston. It’s been a while.”
Rovellin greeted her coldly.
Natalie Preston—a woman who, in the original story, constantly harassed the heroine out of jealousy over Brian.
Even now, she clearly disliked Rovellin and Cornelia.
‘But she never dares touch Cornelia, only me.’
Of course she called her “Miss Rovellin” so condescendingly.
Natalie smirked.
“Well, well, what a coincidence. And this gentleman is…?”
She glanced at Ian, then quickly lost interest.
Just another insignificant man sitting with Rovellin, apparently.
“Oh, he’s—”
“He’s a count from Newarie! Business matters!”
Rovellin quickly cut in before Ian could speak.
The last thing she needed was rumors about tea with the Crown Prince.
“Hoh, business?”
Natalie’s eyes lit up.
“So the rights to the Aethills timber distribution are basically ours now. What else are you even trying to grab at this point?”
“G-grab at?”
“Maybe I should help you so Lord Dines doesn’t waste his time again.”
Her laughter was sharp and mocking.
She went on bragging about dresses her father had bought her from a famous boutique.
It was obvious she had come just to flaunt and provoke Rovellin.
‘Okay, okay, I get it, now please leave.’
Just as Rovellin was about to defuse the situation—
“It’s hard to listen to this nonsense.”
Ian cut in coldly.
Rovellin froze.
‘What are you doing?!’
She tried desperately to signal him to stop.
But Ian had no intention of staying silent.
“If your father bought you dresses, you should be grateful at home instead of screaming in public. Or did he forget to educate you properly along with the dresses, Lady ‘Miss’ Preston?”
Natalie’s eyes welled up instantly.
Even so, Ian looked at her with complete indifference.
‘Wow. He’s really terrible at social skills.’
Normally a gentleman would overlook such rudeness, but Ian showed no mercy.
Natalie stormed out in humiliation.
The entire café was now staring.
‘Damn it… I didn’t want attention.’
Rovellin panicked—but Ian didn’t care.
In fact, he looked slightly irritated.
“Why don’t you ever defend yourself?”
“Huh?”
“People insult you like that, and you just take it.”
“…I’m a peaceful person. I don’t like fighting.”
I’m just trying to set up Cornelia and Brian peacefully and live quietly…
She swallowed the rest of the sentence.
“I find that hard to believe, considering how well you talk back to me.”
Ian muttered, sipping his now-cold coffee.
Then he changed the subject.
“…That Daphne boutique.”
“Huh? Oh, you mean Dafni?”
“That place. Is it really that famous?”
“It’s the most popular boutique in the kingdom.”
Rovellin shrugged.
Even noble daughters had reservations booked years in advance.
Even she, a simple viscount’s daughter, could barely dream of it.
“I see.”
Ian murmured.
“Why are you asking?”
“That green-haired woman wouldn’t shut up about it. I was curious.”
“…Lady Preston has green hair.”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“….”
Rovellin gave up trying to understand him.
It was already late afternoon.
“Let’s go back.”
Ian seemed to have forgotten the interrogation entirely.
Rovellin followed him with relief.
Praying—fervently—that she would never end up in a situation like this again.
A few days later.
Early in the morning, the maid Sera burst into Rovellin’s room in a panic.
“Miss! You need to come out immediately!”
