~Chapter 10~
Floria silently turned her head away. Caspal also didn’t say anything more.
But his eyes slowly followed her gaze toward the window.
In truth, he wasn’t looking outside.
He was looking at her reflection in the glass.
Even though he had once confessed that he fell for her at first sight…
This was actually the first time he had seen her face clearly.
That “confession” had only been part of a carefully planned scheme.
Caspal had never truly been interested in anything before.
Not people, not living things—not even objects.
Even after becoming a duke, he never bought jewels or accessories for himself.
He just let his butler handle it all because it was a hassle.
Of course, that butler had gone overboard “for the duke’s dignity,” and now Caspal had a reputation for being overly extravagant.
But now… when Caspal looked into Floria’s eyes, something from long ago came to mind.
He remembered holding his mother’s hand as a child and passing by a jewelry shop.
There, he saw an emerald that was the only thing he ever wanted.
Floria’s eyes looked just like that emerald.
He slowly looked her over.
Her pale skin, small face, and slightly messy red hair—probably because of the time spent in that damp, dark prison.
She looked almost like a character from some ancient myth.
…I’m being ridiculous, he thought and closed his eyes.
He closed his eyes, deciding not to think any further.
Maybe it was because the results of his little “test” had been completely unexpected.
He’d tried to erase his thoughts by shutting his eyes—but it only made his mind more tangled.
Everything was going off-script.
Whenever he told someone about his painful childhood as a slave, their reaction always fell into one of two categories:
Pity or mockery.
That’s why he had told Floria. It was an experiment—
To see how she would react and plan his next move accordingly.
But her response?
She had joked about buying him for 20,000 shillings.
He couldn’t stop the quiet laugh that slipped out, and he had to cover his face to hide it.
***
Their carriage arrived in front of the temple.
Floria was exhausted. She refused any escort and jumped out by herself.
All she wanted now was to crawl into bed and sleep forever.
“Next time, let’s go on a real date.”
Caspal’s relaxed voice came from behind her, and she froze mid-step.
“…Wait, there’s going to be a next time?”
Why? Again?
She was ready to say no. Her eyes narrowed without her realizing it.
To be fair, standing next to someone so handsome was a rare and lucky experience.
But…
‘He’s unpredictable. Who knows what crazy thing he’ll say or do next?’
Her instincts were screaming.
Every time she met this man, something chaotic happened.
Who goes to a festival and gets kidnapped together?!
Sure, maybe Caspal had planned to find the slave auction…
But still, he got knocked out and kidnapped with her. That didn’t exactly inspire confidence.
She had no desire to see him again.
Caspal must’ve noticed her reaction, because his eyes drooped sadly.
He was getting better at faking expressions—this time, his downcast look was far more convincing than the awkward acting he’d done earlier in the prison.
“I heard that you get a whole week of vacation every time you meet with me. But… if you don’t want to, that’s a shame.”
His voice dropped into a sad, crawling whisper.
The door to his carriage began to slowly close.
“…I look forward to our next meeting, Duke!”
Floria immediately pledged her loyalty.
Well, she had survived being kidnapped. Surely she could survive a little more.
What could possibly be worse?
She quickly convinced herself.
It was just too good of an offer to refuse.
***
When Caspal returned to his mansion, he immediately noticed something strange.
The air felt heavy, and the staff greeted him with perfect discipline—
some of them were even sweating nervously.
‘Ah.’
Caspal smoothed his frown and kept walking.
The closer he got to his office on the second floor, the colder the air became.
Even his personal knight, who usually followed him in, stayed behind outside the door.
Caspal didn’t seem nervous at all.
Creeeeak—
As the office door closed behind him, a voice growled from the shadows:
“Why did you attack the slave auction? You knew it was under my control.”
Caspal’s eyes turned toward the voice.
Because of the curtains, the man sitting behind the desk was hidden in shadow.
Only his wrinkled hands resting on the desk were visible.
Caspal didn’t bother trying to see the man’s face. He looked up into empty space instead.
“I didn’t know.”
“……”
The cold reply made the man narrow his eyes sharply.
But no matter how many years he had watched this boy, Caspal never showed any emotion.
“Do you still go crazy every time you see slaves being sold? Was it really such a deep scar when I threw you away?”
“…No, sir.”
“With your mother’s lowly status, you should be grateful for even reaching your current position. So shameless…”
His words were clearly meant to hurt.
But Caspal didn’t even blink.
His eyes were still fixed on the air in front of him.
“Monster.”
The man whispered.
He had heard that Caspal acted charming and clever in public, but in truth, he was just an emotionless puppet.
The man raised his hand.
Despite his cruel words, his movements were slow and graceful.
Caspal calmly walked forward and knelt at his side—like he had done many times before.
The man lifted Caspal’s chin.
“Look at me.”
“…”
“Answer me.”
This time, the man’s voice changed.
It turned soft—almost gentle.
But at the same time, he slapped Caspal hard across the face.
Smack!
The sharp sound echoed in the room.
The rings on the man’s fingers cut into Caspal’s cheek, and blood rose to the surface.
Caspal didn’t flinch.
Instead, he answered just as the man demanded.
“Yes, Master.”
Smack!
The man slapped his other cheek too.
Only then did he finally smile in satisfaction.
“I told you. When we’re alone, you must call me Father.”
“…Yes, Father.”
The man had golden eyes, even brighter and clearer than Caspal’s. He didn’t care at all that his son’s blood was running down his pale face.
He just wiped his hands clean—smiling at the word “Father” as if it was the most important thing in the world.
Then he said,
“I heard the High Priest drugged Floria’s tea with a brainwashing potion, but it’s not working yet. Care to explain?”
“I think it’s better to become closer to her first. That’s why I keep visiting her.”
“…Good. I hope you’ll make progress next time. Don’t make your father angry again.”
“Yes… Father.”
Caspal could barely force the word out.
His eyes had long since drifted back to the empty air above.
But the man smiled even more at that distant look.
Then he gave a firm command:
“Oh, and don’t forget—tomorrow is Aster’s birthday.
She said she wants to visit her favorite cake shop, so make sure you go with her.
You must attend the party, too.”
He played with a golden teleportation device on the desk.
“Oh… you’re injured. I’ll send some healing potions.”
He sounded like he had just noticed the wounds on Caspal’s face—even though he had caused them himself.
With fake concern, he said his parting words and vanished in a flash of light.
The red and gold uniform he wore, along with the cape, marked him clearly—
He was the Emperor.
He didn’t wait for a response.
He just left with a satisfied expression.
The office went dark and quiet.
Still kneeling, Caspal slowly rose and sat in the emperor’s chair like nothing had happened.
Then—
“Ah.”
He touched his injured cheek.
Looking at the blood on his fingers, he smirked.
Because he remembered Floria—the one person who had made him laugh today.
Shortly after, dozens of crates of healing potions arrived at the mansion.
Caspal didn’t even glance at them.
