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Chapter 52
A Ridiculous Rumor
It was obvious that the lofty excuse he’d given for keeping Nelly as his wife was nothing more than a cover.
Or perhaps it should be called an act—taking advantage of her kind heart. That fact alone made Grisha’s mood turn even more sour.
The hand stirring his spoon came to a slow stop. His cold blue eyes glimmered with a dangerous light.
“If he so desperately wants freedom… then I can give it to him.”
All he needed to do was take the title of Duke of Granite for himself.
And as for the way to achieve that…
“Did you hear that rumor?”
A woman’s voice broke through his thoughts. It came from a nearby table—not far from where Grisha sat.
Though her tone sounded as if she were whispering a secret, her voice was sharp and loud enough for everyone in the café to hear.
Grisha looked toward her without much interest.
Fanning herself lightly, the noblewoman spoke in a voice dripping with curiosity.
“They say Sir Cedar, the Swordmaster, is abusing his wife.”
Who’s abusing who?
It was so absurd that even Grisha, who didn’t particularly like Cedar, found his face twisting involuntarily.
Abuse? Hardly. He’s doting on her like she’s made of glass.
It had been a long time since Grisha had last seen Cedar, so he couldn’t claim to know him completely.
But even while he was studying at the Academy, rumors of the Swordmaster often reached his ears.
After all, Swordmasters were always the subject of fascination among mages.
They say his subordinates respect him, though it’s more admiration for his power than genuine affection. He’s not the type to inspire loyalty through personality.
A man who treated everyone with the same cold, businesslike detachment—
that was Cedar Granite.
Yet, when Grisha had personally seen Nelly and Cedar together, they had looked surprisingly sweet.
Nelly once told me she finds him annoying because he nags too much. That’s completely different from how others describe him.
There was only one reason a man would show such a different side of himself.
When he meets a woman he truly likes.
He clearly has feelings for her—so where does “abuse” even come from?
Once again, Grisha thought, You can’t believe a single word that comes from high society’s gossip.
He smirked wryly and took a sip of his espresso.
The rumor seemed popular enough, because the noblewomen’s chatter quickly gained momentum.
“They say poor Baron Fairyway asked after his sister’s well-being, and Sir Cedar publicly humiliated him!”
“Isn’t that baron’s sister his only remaining family? How terrible!”
“They said he married her out of love, even after she fell into a coma—but maybe that was a lie after all.”
“To be honest, when rumors of their marriage first spread, people were already suspicious. He’s a Swordmaster, and the young lady was a Grand Mage in a coma…”
“Now that things turned out like this, maybe the rumors weren’t so baseless.”
Within all their nonsense, a few details were surprisingly accurate.
Poor Baron Fairyway, indeed.
Grisha thought back to the beautiful woman who had shamelessly spoken of love, even after practically selling her sister off to Cedar in a contract marriage.
Nelly’s younger sister—Diana Fairyway.
So she’s the one spreading these rumors.
Apparently, she still wanted something from Cedar. Whatever her motive was, realizing that the false rumors had come from her only deepened Grisha’s disgust.
Come to think of it, Nelly only became my brother’s wife because of that woman in the first place.
At the time, he had simply brushed off her cold words, but if he had known that she had been the one to propose the contract marriage, he might have burned down the entire mansion with his magic.
As Grisha pressed down the anger rising in his chest, the man he had been waiting for finally arrived.
“Young Master Grisha.”
It was the retainer who had been leading the efforts to have him recognized as the next Duke.
“You’re here. It’s been a while.”
The man immediately knelt to pay his respects, but Grisha, who disliked drawing attention, stopped him and motioned for him to sit instead.
The retainer sat, eyes slightly wet, and spoke with emotion.
“I never imagined I’d meet you again here in the capital. To see you return as a mage—it brings me great joy. I’m sure the late madam would be proud.”
Becoming a mage was no easy feat.
But Grisha knew the man wasn’t congratulating him merely for that.
Since Cedar was a Swordmaster, it made sense for him, too, to become a mage—to compete on equal ground.
“The young master who fled from danger has returned on his own, now powerful enough to stand tall.” That’s what he must be thinking.
In other words, the reason Grisha had run away to the Academy in the first place was because his followers had failed to protect him.
That was also why, when he left the Academy, he hadn’t been driven solely by revenge or the desire to seize the Granite dukedom.
When Mother was poisoned, none of them could even uncover the truth.
Grisha simply hated everyone associated with the Granite family.
Carrying that bitterness, he said with faint sarcasm,
“‘The late madam,’ you say? Careful with your words. That woman is the duchess now.”
“Please, don’t say such things!”
The retainer flared up immediately—his main objection being that a lowborn maid could never rightfully be called duchess.
And yet, she already is.
Recalling Lady Brier, who had stood tall and unflinching before him back at the Granite estate, Grisha’s face darkened.
He asked, voice cold,
“How is my father’s condition?”
“He’s being looked after by maids who obey that woman’s every command. Ordinary retainers can’t even get close.”
“Even when I asked to see him, she refused.”
“What! Who else should be allowed to visit, if not his own son?”
Grisha bit his lip.
The truth was, no one knew the duke’s real condition.
Lady Brier had hidden him away completely, taking control of the entire household.
She’d even left Cedar untouched all this time—likely because she was so confident in her power.
The more he thought about it, the more it sickened him. But what grated on him most was Cedar’s marriage to Nelly.
He took the only thing I ever wanted—just like that.
And it wasn’t even as if Nelly loved him sincerely.
She was bound to him by some strange condition, trapped until she could “be free.”
If freedom is what she wants so badly… I’ll help her get it.
Grisha clenched his fist tightly, then asked in a serious tone,
“What do I need to do to become the Duke?”
“…So you’ve finally decided.”
The retainer’s face lit up in relief. He, too, had grown weary of Grisha’s years of indifference.
Grisha gave a small shrug.
“My brother wants to be free. I suppose it’s my duty to help him achieve that.”
The retainer quickly laid out the situation.
“The Imperial Court is already aware that His Grace the Duke is too ill to manage state affairs. So they’ve declared that if a successor marries and produces an heir, the title will be passed down.”
“In other words, nothing’s changed.”
The fastest way for Grisha to secure the dukedom was simple—
get married and have a child.
“I can introduce you to some suitable young ladies—”
But before the retainer could finish, Grisha interrupted him with a tilt of his chin toward the gossiping noblewomen.
“What do you make of that rumor?”
“…Pardon?”
The women were still chatting animatedly about Cedar.
Handsome, capable, and married to a comatose mage—Sir Cedar had always been a hot topic in the capital.
The retainer, after listening for a moment, quickly grasped what the rumor was about and nodded.
“You mean the one about Sir Cedar and his wife? I think it’s to our advantage. A man who mistreats his wife can hardly be seen as fit to lead a duchy.”
“I see.”
So if that rumor spread far enough, it might pressure Cedar into a divorce.
I hope they split up soon.
That thought had barely crossed his mind when the entire café suddenly grew quiet.
He looked up to see why—and frowned.
“Well, what a coincidence meeting you here,” said an all-too-familiar voice.
There stood a beautiful young woman, golden hair half-tied with a pink ribbon, eyes like gleaming rubies—confident and radiant.
Her presence alone stirred Grisha’s irritation.
With a heavy voice, he addressed her.
“Baron Fairyway.”
It was none other than Diana Fairyway, Nelly’s younger sister.
She smiled sweetly.
“It’s a pleasure, Lord Granite. I suppose I’m lucky—no one here seems to recognize you yet. I can’t believe I get to speak with you so easily.”
Grisha answered smoothly, with a polite smile.
“I’m not all that famous.”
“Not famous? The Granite family’s first mage in generations, the second son who might inherit the dukedom—if you’re not famous, who is?”
“Ahem.”
“Perhaps we should take this conversation elsewhere?”
The people who had been gossiping about Cedar moments earlier began coughing awkwardly and looking away. They had finally realized who Grisha Granite was.
As the nearby tables cleared out, Grisha glanced around indifferently, then gestured for his retainer to leave.
Before long, the café in the grand hotel had effectively become private—just Grisha and Diana remaining.
She might have spoken as though their meeting were a coincidence,
but the timing was far too perfect to believe that.
