INWY~39

Chapter 39

The Duke’s inspection had ended.

“Well, do you think they’ll want to come back because of excessive courtesy? I wouldn’t. Don’t grovel pointlessly to guests.”

Once the morning briefing was over, the Duke observed the staff training session. 

Then he tossed a curt evaluation at the resort’s manager.

Most days, he only watched in silence. 

Of course, there were times when he let loose barbed remarks, like today.

“Looking at you in those uniforms makes me want to fire the whole lot. Wrinkled shirts, crooked ties, loose shoelaces… a disgrace in every way.”

“I-I’m sorry, Your Grace. We’ll correct it immediately.”

“You’re no better, Manager. Straighten your name tag.”

As the manager shrank in mortification, Calis trailed after the Duke, silently mouthing stay strong.

The next stop was the resort’s restaurant. 

Dante personally sampled the dishes and wines meant for the guests.

“Does the head chef not inspect the ingredients? Building a resort by the sea should at least guarantee fresh seafood.”

“M-my apologies, Your Grace. I’ll have a new dish prepared at once, if you’ll just wait—”

“Oh, I’m sure spoiled guests will wait patiently. The stench is so strong that even white wine can’t mask it, and you expect me to call this food?”

Clicking his tongue in disgust, Dante dabbed his lips with a napkin and rose from his seat.

Calis sneaked a glance at the table, where plate after plate had been left with a single bite taken. 

He sighed inwardly. 

Mr. Hudson had warned him to make sure the Duke ate properly, but once again, the dishes had been abandoned.

To ease the despair of the trembling chef, Calis discreetly raised a fist in encouragement before hurrying after Dante.

Yes, the Duke was growing harsher by the day.

Calis watched his straight, unbending back with unease. 

The Duke used to go out frequently, both in the mornings and late at night. 

But now, he hadn’t stepped outside the resort once.

And not just for a day or two—nearly three weeks.

A week ago, the final construction on the resort had been completed without incident, aside from a minor hiccup.

Calis.

Yes, Your Grace!

If the furniture isn’t delivered this week, torch the ship the moment it docks.

…I’ll contact the port authority at once!

Luckily, the delayed ships arrived two days later, after a year of postponement, and the furniture was safely delivered three days after that. 

Suites and master rooms were finally furnished.

The grand opening of La Floriena was only days away.

Everything was ready. 

No major issues. 

By rights, the Duke should have been pleased.

But contrary to Calis’s expectations, Dante’s response was flat. 

Not even calm—dry, almost lifeless.

This morning, with the final safety inspection, all construction is now complete, Your Grace!

Good.

Congratulations, Your Grace! It’s been a long effort, and the resort is fully prepared. 

Surely you must be—

Out. You’re noisy.

That morning, Calis had been kicked out mid-report.

And that wasn’t the end of it. 

Another week had passed since then, and Dante’s temper only worsened with each day.

And the one suffering most wasn’t the staff, nor the workers whose contracts had ended.

It’s me. It’s all on me…!

Calis shut his eyes in despair before opening them again, swallowing down his rising frustration.

Morning, noon, night—every report meant facing those glacial golden eyes, sharp enough to cut him down where he stood. 

He could hardly breathe.

If only he’d go out again…

When Dante had gone on his mysterious outings, he’d still seemed aloof, but at least calmer, lighter somehow. 

Even with his usual air of ennui, his mood was noticeably gentler.

Calis never knew where he went or whom he met. 

He hadn’t dared to ask again—not after nearly losing his post the last time.

Your Grace, you haven’t been going out lately, have you?

Do I look like I’m here on holiday? 

Ah, right. 

To a slacker like you, I probably do. 

Remember this—any negligence on duty here is grounds for immediate dismissal.

Since then, Calis had kept his mouth shut.

But his curiosity was driving him mad. 

What had happened that day?

He remembered clearly: the Duke encountering a woman on the street. 

And less than an hour later, returning with his cheek swollen.

Fortunately, Dante had slipped in through the back entrance, so no one else had seen. 

But Calis knew instantly. 

He was hit by a woman.

Not the one from the street, though. 

No, it must have been someone else. 

But who? Who could dare strike the Duke of Venachert across the face?

“Calis.”

“Ah! Y-yes, Your Grace!”

Snapped out of his thoughts, Calis nearly walked into Dante’s broad back. 

Cold sweat broke out along his spine. 

Had he been caught daydreaming?

As he fretted, Dante spoke softly—so softly it was nearly a mutter. 

But Calis, tense and alert, caught every word.

“It would be better to tear this resort down.”

“…Pardon? Y-your Grace, what do you mean by that…?”

“At this rate, the opening will only ruin my reputation.”

Calis gaped. 

The chilling words left him with only one desperate resolve.

He had to find that woman. 

Otherwise, the Duke would destroy everything—and Calis would die of nerves before the grand opening ever arrived.

***

“Reina, clear the cups on the back table, please!”

The café was chaos. 

Customers had poured in since early morning, and Sharon dashed about serving, greeting, and cleaning, nearly collapsing from the rush.

Not that she minded. 

She threw herself into it almost willingly—for one reason only.

“Reina! Water’s spilling!”

“…Ah.”

Her partner just stood there, staring blankly even as hot water splashed over her hand.

She’s going to seriously hurt herself at this rate.

Sharon squeezed her eyes shut in frustration, then forced herself to focus. 

If she won’t pull it together, then I will.

She clenched her fists, fired herself up, and turned to clear the back tables in Reina’s stead.

Ding.

The bell above the door rang, and Riena’s head snapped up. 

But upon seeing who entered, her face returned to its blank, distant calm—as it had for over two weeks now.

Watching her every day, Sharon had realized the truth.

Reina was waiting for him. 

That mad Duke.

She didn’t know how or why, but it was obvious Reina longed for his return.

Yet since that day, Dante hadn’t appeared once. 

The thought gave Sharon a pounding headache.

They’d fought. 

She’d bet her brand-new evening dress on it.

“Take this order, please!”

“Coming!”

And maybe… maybe it was partly her fault, too.

Whatever the case, Sharon desperately wished they’d make up. 

This couldn’t go on.

“Reina, your hand—didn’t you burn it earlier? Are you all right?”

It was after closing, during cleanup, when Sharon finally asked. 

Riena gave no answer.

Circling her with growing frustration, Sharon let out a sharp sigh.

“Reina!”

“Yes? Oh… sorry. What did you say, Sharon?”

“Your hand. You spilled boiling water on it.”

Only then did Riena glance down. 

Her hand was red and swollen, yet she only answered dully.

“…It’s fine. I’ll put on ointment.”

Still in that strange, detached haze. 

Sharon’s sigh deepened. 

At this rate, Reina could collapse in the street and just stay there.

After a moment’s hesitation, Sharon finally spoke the question burning on her tongue.

“Reina… something happened with that mad Duke, didn’t it?”

“…No. Nothing.”

“I really wasn’t going to ask. But—well, Noel told me enough already…”

Enough? 

He’d told her everything. 

From his insane half-proposal the very first time they met, to the part where Reina slapped the Duke of all people. 

Every last detail.

At Sharon’s words, Riena’s head bowed low, her face clouded with guilt.

“No, no! I’m not blaming you! Compared to the Duke, Noel’s like cow fodder. I get it. And he did say some crazy things that day… But that’s not what I’m getting at.”

“…”

“Reina, remember? You didn’t come to work for three days afterward.”

It had been the morning after her day off. 

Riena had never missed a single shift before, so Sharon had instantly thought back to the day prior.

She remembered Reina’s troubled face. 

She had spent that whole day restless and worried.

And after work, she’d gone straight to Reina’s home.

The door was oddly unlocked. 

She’d pushed it open and hurried inside—

—and nearly fainted.

There, sprawled on the bed in her clothes from the day before, Riena burned with fever, her face flushed scarlet.