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CHAPTER 35
“Then is it true that that common woman is indeed Duke Cayenne’s mistress?”
“Not just a mistress—it seems she’s a courtesan. To be brought to such a party….”
“But wasn’t that girl the adopted daughter of Madame Cyrilleze? How could she be both the Duke’s mistress and her adopted daughter?”
“They’re not blood-related anyway. Growing up together could easily lead to affection.”
The nobles stared at Dité, their eyes brimming with suspicion.
As if to confirm their doubts, Dité rose gracefully, calm and unhurried despite being the center of attention. Even though she had been exposed as a commoner amidst a hall full of nobles, she appeared completely unfazed, as if she had a secret weapon.
She truly looked as if she had come to the party at Cayenne’s side.
“My goodness…”
The guests were stunned, unable to recover from the shock.
The Duke of Wintel, on the verge of marriage, openly mingling with a mistress at such an event?
Of course, some nobles had lovers outside their marriages—usually commoners. But a commoner, no matter what, could never become a true member of the noble house.
But the issue here was who the noble in question was.
It was Duke Cayenne.
The Monster of the Battlefield, the Sword of the North. A man who had never spared a glance for the countless noble ladies who had tried to catch his eye.
“I thought the Duke had no interest in women… What is happening here?”
“Shh. Everyone, quiet. What we see behind masks stays behind masks. That’s the unspoken rule of such gatherings.”
“Yes, of course. We must all hold our tongues.”
Just then, Dité began to leave the hall, presumably to change her wine-soaked dress. The nobles reluctantly averted their gazes from her retreating figure.
By now, everyone believed it to be fact: Dité was Cayenne’s mistress and had attended the masquerade with him.
It was a lie.
But once everyone believed it, it became the truth.
At that very moment, Cayenne stood in the study of Wintel Castle.
A cold draft blew through the room. Candlelight flickered in his pitch-black eyes.
“My lord, the report has arrived,” said his aide, Valdefram, bowing.
Cayenne gestured briefly, signaling him to continue.
“It seems we’ve found the right one. They’re alive, as expected.”
“I thought so. That one doesn’t die so easily.”
“Shall we continue the pursuit?”
“Yes. But make sure it’s done discreetly this time. No slip-ups.”
“Understood.”
Valdefram then burned the coded report in the candle flame. The sudden flare of fire hissed like a growl.
“You’ve done well. Go rest,” Cayenne said.
“Yes, my lord…”
Just as Valdefram reached for the doorknob, he hesitated.
“Forgive my boldness, my lord…” he said, turning back to meet Cayenne’s cold gaze.
“If they keep slipping through our fingers, someone must be helping them.”
“Indeed.”
“Perhaps… an insider?”
“I already know.”
Cayenne’s answer cut through the air like a blade—sharp and absolute. Whatever Valdefram knew, Cayenne had long since figured it out.
In fact, he probably knew far more.
Valdefram left the study with a quiet sigh. Though he was Cayenne’s right hand, even he didn’t know the full extent of the Duke’s thoughts or plans.
‘Just how far ahead is he seeing?’
Valdefram could only hope that Cayenne would successfully exact his revenge—and afterward, perhaps find some peace.
Just as Madame Cyrilleze wished for Cayenne’s peace of mind, so too did Valdefram, who deeply respected the Duke and served him with unwavering loyalty.
‘Peace, huh…’
As he walked down the corridor, a thought suddenly crossed his mind.
He recalled a vase recently placed in the Duke’s study—a simple, round vessel filled with still water, from which a single water lily bloomed.
Sometimes, Cayenne would silently gaze at it.
‘The Duke always clears away distractions to maintain focus in his study, and yet he suddenly brings in a vase…’
For some reason, Valdefram couldn’t forget the look in Cayenne’s eyes as he stared at that flower.
Normally cold and merciless, his eyes softened ever so slightly when gazing at the bloom.
Just a little.
Barely noticeable.
But undeniably gentle.
Though Cayenne himself didn’t seem to realize it.
‘That water lily… it was a gift from Lady Etisha, wasn’t it?’
Valdefram thought of Etisha.
From the “Heart of the Angel” incident to the unexpected gift in the study, something had shifted since she entered Cayenne’s life.
‘Wait… could it be…?’
He narrowed his eyes, then shook his head with a smirk.
‘No. That’s impossible. Duke Cayenne is a man consumed by revenge. Marriage is merely a pretense. If he were truly in love, the signs would be more obvious.’
Too early to tell. He’d need to watch a bit longer.
‘But if… if the Duke really did fall for Lady Etisha…?’
Valdefram chuckled at the image in his mind:
Cayenne blushing at Etisha.
Cayenne looking at her with tear-filled eyes.
Cayenne, confessing his love passionately…
“…Hmm.”
Yeah, no chance.
‘If that happens, I’ll change my name to Dog.’
Looks like Valdefram might be barking soon.
Back in the study, Cayenne stared out the window.
The night was pitch black, the moon dim. Midnight had long passed.
Silently, he cleared his desk—a habit of his whenever finishing his work.
Then he opened a drawer made of teak wood.
Valdefram thought the water lily was the only personal item Cayenne kept in his study. But there was something else.
Inside the drawer, wrapped in velvet, was a small, round orb.
When Cayenne lightly tapped it, a familiar voice and image emerged—Etisha’s.
[“Happy birthday, Duke Cayenne. I hope this year brings you happiness. Thank you, always.”]
Cayenne watched the projection for a moment, then abruptly closed the drawer halfway through.
What was he doing?
He frowned.
He felt uncomfortable. Annoyed, even.
Etisha’s voice continued to play inside the drawer, then faded away.
Cayenne turned and left.
It was late. Time to return to the bedroom.
The quiet corridor. The familiar solitude.
He carried a small lamp as he made his way to the master bedroom on the third floor.
Upon entering, he heard only soft, steady breathing—Etisha was already asleep.
He placed the lamp on the bedside table and began to undress.
Off came the jacket, then his cufflinks and shirt, revealing his upper body.
As he lay on the bed, his eyes drifted to Etisha’s bare shoulder.
Her pink hair flowed gently down it.
He had never paid attention to her body before, but now his gaze lingered.
“……”
She wore a white chemise, her back turned to him.
‘One of the straps has slipped off.’
So that’s why his eyes had wandered.
He reached toward her rounded shoulder—to pull the strap back up.
But oddly, his hand couldn’t move any closer.
“…?”
Was he hesitating?
He suddenly felt like he shouldn’t touch her so casually.
Strange.
Last time, although unintended, he had torn her dress—yet now, just fixing a strap made him pause.
Cayenne pulled back his hand and clenched his fist.
He was bothered by the slipped strap, yet couldn’t bring himself to touch her.
‘I must be tired. Getting distracted by nonsense.’
Instead of touching her, he pulled the blanket up to her neck.
Now her shoulder and strap were out of sight.
No more distractions.
He lay down beside her and closed his eyes.
He could hear her soft, rhythmic breathing—by now, a familiar sound.
Ever since Etisha arrived in the North, he had always slept beside her.
But in a year, when she dies…
Cayenne shifted in bed.
Pointless thoughts. Useless worries.
That night, Cayenne couldn’t sleep until late into the morning.
Marquis Hexion had been right.
Dité giggled as she opened box after box of gifts piled in her room.
“Dresses, jewels, shoes… All of these are mine?!”
They were from people who had attended the masquerade—trying to get on her good side as Cayenne’s supposed mistress.
Dité shoved the dress she got from Countess Montmad into the back of her closet and hummed as she laid out the others.
Each one was dazzling and beautiful.
She loved them all.
‘The madam’s gifts are always too plain and modest…’
She had no idea that all these lavish items combined didn’t match the value of even one of Madame Cyrilleze’s gifts. That true elegance came from restraint, not flash.
Having grown up a commoner without noble education, Dité simply thought anything sparkly was high-class.
“Hehe… so pretty…!”
She twirled around the room, trying on dress after dress.
‘If I wear these, people will think I’m truly loved by Cayenne, right?’
Countess Montmad was on her side. So were the other nobles.
Beaming with joy, Dité laughed aloud.
Just then, someone knocked on her door.
