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Chapter : 118
“If you ever decide to meet my demands, contact me then.”
Lysithea’s tone turned cold again as she left the side room.
Her request was simple: since he looked exhausted, she just wanted him to reduce attendance at unimportant social gatherings.
It seemed she had heard about Diarmuid showing his face here and there.
Perhaps because these social activities weren’t motivated by anything constructive but rather by a narrow-minded whim, he felt a strange sense of discomfort, as if his own feet itched to move away.
“I’ll think about it.”
Having already achieved all the results he wanted, he was merely measuring the right time to step back.
“Then.”
Lysithea nodded once curtly and turned away without a proper farewell.
It was frustrating not to even share a proper goodbye, let alone a hug or handshake.
Still, he could at least leave a request with her bodyguard.
“Ryan, please take care of the Duchess.”
“Of course! Who am I, if not Sir Ryan Dilton, the knight Her Grace trusts most? Just leave her in my hands!”
Ryan patted his chest with an overly proud smile, clearly pleased with himself.
Watching him, Lysithea’s expression was one of mixed feelings.
“Sir Ryan, that’s enough. Go.”
“No, Your Grace! If the person I’m protecting leaves first…! You must come with me!”
Unable to endure Ryan’s fussing any longer, Lysithea left first, and Ryan hastily followed.
At that moment, Diarmuid, standing there watching the two of them leave, was approached by the staff member who had guided them to the side room.
“Your Grace… I have something to tell you…”
The staff member spoke with unusual caution. Seeing the pale, anxious expression, Diarmuid immediately pulled out a checkbook and scribbled a signature.
“Oh, the interior is a mess. Our conversation got a bit heated, and I caused trouble.”
How could anyone casually drive a decorative sword half a span into a game table during a conversation?
The staff member braced themselves, determined not to be hypnotized by Diarmuid’s calm, soothing voice.
“If this isn’t enough, send the bill to the Ducal Residence. I’ll make sure it’s processed promptly.”
Taking the check Diarmuid handed over, the staff member disappeared at a speed that made it hard to believe someone could walk that fast.
It was clear they were determined to spread the story of what they had witnessed as quickly as possible.
Thanks to Lysithea’s little incident, rumors of discord between the Duke and Duchess would only intensify.
Diarmuid left the chess club, pondering whether to return to the Ducal Residence or stop by and choose a few books to spend a lonely evening with.
A short, frail woman passed by, her arms overflowing with printed papers, but tripped over a stone and fell hard.
The scattered papers littered the well-kept streets of the upper commercial district.
A few sheets even fell at Diarmuid’s feet.
Without much thought, he bent down to gather the scattered papers.
“Are you hurt here?”
The woman hurriedly picked up the papers from the ground, stepping closer to take the ones he handed over.
“Long time no see, little angel.”
Diarmuid’s crimson eyes widened in surprise at the affectionate title, one he hadn’t heard since his mother was alive.
“…Who?”
“You’ve been looking for me.”
The woman lifted her head to meet his gaze.
From her deep green eyes, he recalled the face of someone he had seen long ago.
Diarmuid unconsciously murmured a name.
“Dora?”
The name that had been Diane Woods’ most precious gift—the one that had imprinted the existence of Lor on Rueira.
“….”
Even hearing her name, the woman silently continued gathering the scattered papers without any reaction.
“Dora… you’re alive?”
Even while investigating her whereabouts, he hadn’t dared to hope that she was truly alive.
He felt guilty even wishing for Dora’s survival.
After picking up all the papers, Dora stood, forcing a bitter smile.
“Yes. Unfortunately…”
If Diarmuid had lived his life as if continuing the existence of someone long dead, then Dora, stripped of everything that day, had been little more than a corpse herself.
“You haven’t died yet.”
Living, yet not really living.
Her once-proud name had been erased from the world as if it never existed, and her once-bright soul had long since lost its light.
Yet she had managed to survive, stubbornly clinging to this tenacious life.
What meaning could such an empty life hold?
“I’m glad you’re alive, Dora.”
The little angel she had been in childhood had grown unchanged and kind, but Dora could not easily accept such warm words.
Dora should have died that day.
No, she should never have been born.
Her existence could never have been a gift.
Even those who loved her had all been swallowed up by her, leaving only a deep abyss.
“Joel, weren’t you going to attend the Howard family’s banquet today?”
Returning home, Lilian saw Joel in the mansion and tilted her head curiously.
Joel, about to open a letter from First Princess Florence, instinctively frowned at the tone that annoyed him just by hearing it.
“That’s changed.”
“What do you mean by ‘changed’?”
Lilian’s eyes sparkled with interest at his curt reply.
It seemed she almost enjoyed his discomfort.
“Something else came up.”
“But you said it was a must-attend event. You even seemed ready…”
Lilian scanned him from head to toe, murmuring suspiciously.
“It’s an urgent matter.”
Joel shook the unopened letter from Princess Florence in his hand.
“Oh, come on. How can you tell if it’s urgent when you haven’t even opened the seal?”
Lilian laughed, having spotted the letter’s seal with sharp eyes.
‘When did that girl even see this?’
Joel, cheeks red, fidgeted as if trying to escape from her.
But Lilian chased him relentlessly, chattering on.
“Oh, were you snubbed? Again?”
Although her voice sounded like laughter, Joel decided to dismiss it as a misunderstanding.
“I wasn’t snubbed. I said something else came up.”
“Eh, so you were snubbed.”
“I told you, I wasn’t.”
Clenching his teeth, Joel spoke each word carefully.
“Why? Did Duke Cassius send a flower basket to the Howards?”
At the mention of a flower basket, Joel’s patience snapped, and he gritted his teeth.
Though Duke Cassius had ended his seclusion after marriage, he remained an enigmatic figure.
Apart from a few longtime acquaintances, he ignored all correspondence and invitations.
Recently, however, Duke Cassius had started appearing at social gatherings.
The heir of Rueira, who had long been secluded, was a topic of fascination, and Duke Cassius was stunningly handsome.
It was said jokingly that hosts suffered trying to get invitations for guests hoping to see him in person.
By this point, the success of any banquet seemed to hinge on whether Duke Cassius attended.
The problem was that the size, purpose, and acquaintances of the gatherings he attended were unpredictable.
This eternal mystery of the Empire’s social scene was unexpectedly resolved.
One day, Duke Cassius, deciding not to attend a banquet, sent a flower basket from his garden as an apology.
The host, receiving the thoughtful gift, didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
People became curious about the reason for his absence and began investigating thoroughly.
They examined the banquet’s purpose, decorations, and menu, and only then discovered the reason:
The only change between the time Duke Cassius had initially decided to attend and the moment he sent his apologies was that Joel Spencer had decided to attend late.
Only then did people recall that Duke Cassius and Joel Spencer had once been engaged.
In the narrow aristocratic society, openly avoiding a particular person like this was unusual.
Those who invited both Duke Cassius and Joel simultaneously all received flower baskets.
It became evident that Duke Cassius genuinely avoided Joel Spencer.
Despite his fame, some still chose Joel due to personal interests.
However, the Duke’s flower baskets became a trend.
At every banquet Joel attended, a flower basket from the Duke was placed alongside him.
Joel could not bear the glance toward himself and the flower basket set side by side.
Upon hearing that another basket had arrived at the Howards’ today, Joel was outraged.
Better not to attend at all than become a spectacle.
“Joel, did you hear?”
Lilian chattered endlessly.
“People are calling Duke Cassius the flower of the social circle? Are they all crazy?”
It began when someone attended a banquet expecting a flower basket for Duke Cassius, only to see someone even more beautiful than the flowers and praised them instead.
Flattery has its limits.
They were shameless people, calling a person a flower without shame.
“Isn’t Duke Cassius childish too? He seems so jealous. Honestly, I think he’s not normal.”
Joel agreed with the assessment that he wasn’t normal, but he didn’t want to hear anything right now.
Arriving in front of his room, Joel opened his mouth to send Lilian away.
“Lilian, enough─.”
“If the flowers are scattered so freely, won’t some eventually fall into the Duke’s garden? Then Joel, you’ll finally have somewhere to go! Your grandfather’s still alive too!”
Joel furrowed his brows, glaring at Lilian.
Her words implied that he wouldn’t go anywhere until the flowers fell into the Duke’s garden, and without his grandfather’s influence, he was insignificant.
Although foolish and naive, whenever she targeted his weaknesses so precisely, he couldn’t help but feel suspicious.
