INWY~32

Chapter 32

“Good morning, Miss Sharon.”

Jingle.

Riena pushed open the café door, already unlocked, and stepped inside. 

Sharon, busy with preparations for the day’s opening, looked up at her with a bright smile.

“Welcome, Miss Riena! You’re a little late today, aren’t you?”

“Ah… yes. I’m really sorry. I stayed up too late last night finishing some things, and in the end… I overslept.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie—she had dozed off after returning home, though it had only been for two hours at most.

“Oh, come on! I left early yesterday, remember? And Miss Riena, just how hard did you clean? Do you know how shocked I was when I came in this morning? Everything was sparkling—absolutely gleaming! I almost wondered if I should even touch anything.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

Riena let out a small, bashful laugh. 

Sharon had that way of turning a single word into three—one of her most charming traits.

Her endless brightness felt curious, even endearing. 

Perhaps that was why Sharon seemed more like a younger sister than anything else. 

That feeling in itself was strange to Riena.

More than that, Sharon was the one who had reminded her—taught her—that she was still capable of growing attached to someone again. 

That made Riena cherish her all the more.

“I’ll help you finish the preparations. Let’s do it together.”

“No, no! I’m almost done—oh? Wait, Miss Riena, what happened to your arm?”

Sharon, laughing and waving her hands, suddenly froze. 

Her eyes widened in surprise.

Ah.

Riena let out a faint sigh and forced a sheepish smile. 

She pulled her bandaged left hand behind her back and made light of it.

“Oh, this? I just hit my wrist hard while cleaning. It only swelled a little, that’s all.”

“Lies! You wouldn’t bandage it up just for a little swelling. You didn’t break anything, did you?”

At that, Riena faltered.

She looked down at her wrapped wrist in silence, then muttered absently.

“…Ah, you’re right. For something so small… this is a bit much, isn’t it?”

“What?”

Riena gave a faint, hollow laugh as she shook her bandaged wrist.

***

By noon, the sun blazed down, hotter than one would expect even for summer.

The workers, and even Calis—who had been following the Grand Duke to explain the facilities and the progress of construction—had long since stripped off their jackets.

But amidst them all, only the Grand Duke of Benachert remained in his impeccable three-piece suit. 

Even in heat fierce enough to draw sweat from everyone else, not a single drop glistened on his skin, nor did a single word of complaint leave his lips.

One of the inspectors, glancing curiously at him, finally spoke.

“Your Grace… it seems you would adapt well to Florian. Summer comes early here compared to other places. It’s already sweltering today, and yet you don’t seem bothered at all.”

“This much is still bearable.”

“I see… Ah, speaking of the heat—perhaps once it grows warmer, Your Grace should try a swim in the sea? It’s quite different from rivers or lakes.”

“Mm. Another time, perhaps.”

Dante tilted his head and smiled faintly.

Had his butler Hudson heard this exchange, he would have been utterly scandalized. 

For in truth, Dante loathed water. 

A lesser-known fact about the Grand Duke of Benachert.

But the inspector and Calis, ignorant of this, only brightened at his answer. 

After a brief digression about swimming, they soon returned to the matter at hand.

“Then that concludes the safety inspection.”

“Yes, Your Grace. We’ll just need to run through everything once more after completion, then follow up every couple of months.”

At last, the long inspection came to an end. 

The inspector held out his checklist, which Calis quickly accepted on Dante’s behalf.

“You’ve done well.”

With a polite smile, Dante extended his hand for a handshake.

The inspector’s eyes widened, startled. 

He hadn’t expected the Grand Duke himself to offer such courtesy. 

Flustered, he quickly clasped both hands around Dante’s.

It was, in truth, no small matter. 

Most high-ranking nobles would never dream of shaking hands with a commoner.

Flushed with a mix of awe and gratitude, the inspector bowed deeply.

After spending the entire morning on the inspection, Dante returned to the master room of the annex. 

At once, he began removing his suit piece by piece.

Even if it wasn’t obvious, the fine fabric had collected dust from the construction site, and his meticulous nature would not allow him to tolerate it.

“Calis. From the next schedule onward, you’ll attend in my place and simply report the results to me.”

“…Pardon? Where are you going, Your Grace? Back to that café, perhaps?”

Calis tilted his head, puzzled at the sudden change.

“…And why should that concern you?”

Dante paused mid-motion, half out of his vest, and turned sharply toward him. 

His voice cut with quiet steel, enough to make Calis flinch and bow at once.

“My apologies. It’s only that… you’ve been frequenting it of late.”

“…I’ll be making a brief trip to the capital.”

“Today, Your Grace?”

Dante gave a short nod as he finished removing his vest.

The reason, of course, was yesterday’s visit from Crown Prince Reichert.

Though the fool was gullible enough to believe Hudson’s excuse that Dante had gone to Rahelrn to meet investors, such a lie would only hold for a time.

He would need to present himself in the capital soon, lest suspicion grow. 

And since he had already declared that he would travel there personally, any delay would only breed further doubt.

Loosening his tie, Dante spoke again.

“Tell the knight to have the car ready.”

“Yes, Your Grace!”

Finally grasping that this was in response to the telegram, Calis straightened quickly, ready to dash off.

“And another thing.”

“…Yes?”

Dante, unbuttoning his shirt, lifted his gaze.

His cool, sharp stare froze Calis in place.

“While I’m gone, don’t leave the resort grounds. Work from one of the vacant guest rooms if you must.”

Calis blinked, momentarily dumbfounded, then stammered.

“…That time I went to the café during work hours, it was only to find you because of the telegram! Truly, Your Grace—I usually don’t step a single foot outside the resort.”

His voice rose with frustration. 

In truth, he often felt chained there already, toiling like a slave.

Dante’s eyes narrowed. 

His head tilted slightly.

“Good. Don’t even dream of it.”

“…It really is the truth, Your Grace.”

But Calis’s frustration only curdled into dread.

He had seen the Duke’s merciless discipline before, but this… this warning carried a new, sharper edge. 

A threat of punishment if caught even once.

Why is he even bringing this up now? Did I slip somehow?

The unease gnawed at him until he finally left the room, muttering his grievances.

Once Calis was gone, Dante bathed quickly, then stepped into the dressing room.

Casting off his thick white robe, he sprayed his favored cologne and scanned the neatly arranged shirts. 

He selected one and began to dress, piece by piece, until his new suit was flawlessly in place.

At the elevator, he glanced at his wristwatch—and frowned.

He was twenty minutes behind schedule.

The entire routine—bathing, cologne, tailoring his suit, grooming his hair—was something he had performed daily for decades. 

It was a matter of habit, almost instinct, never prone to delay.

The meaning was clear.

His once-absolute routine had faltered. 

The order of his days, so long unbroken, had slipped from his grasp.

A surge of irritation rose within him. 

Even as he entered the waiting car, his expression remained dark.

Sensing his foul mood, the driver wisely held his tongue. 

Surely the sudden summons to the capital was the cause. 

Best not to provoke him further.

The car remained silent for a long time.

At last, Dante leaned back, arms folded, fingers tapping his armrest. 

Then, in a low voice, he spoke.

“May I ask you something?”

The driver flinched at the sudden question.

The air inside the car seemed to shift.

“Yes, Your Grace. If it’s something I can answer…”

“If you’ve performed the same routine all your life, and suddenly it takes longer than usual… what would that mean?”

The driver’s shoulders loosened slightly. Such a simple question.

He thought a moment, then glanced into the mirror.

“…I’d say it means you had worries on your mind. Too many thoughts.”

“Too many thoughts?”

“Yes, Your Grace. When one’s head is cluttered, meals take longer, chores are slower, and before you realize it, time has flown by. Often, you don’t even notice you’ve been thinking so much.”

“And if you’re unaware of the thoughts themselves?”

“Then I’d say it’s something weighing heavily, enough to rise unconsciously. In that case, the best way is simple—don’t force yourself to dwell or suppress it. Let it pass naturally.”

The driver risked another glance in the mirror.

Dante’s face, though pensive, had softened slightly.

His golden eyes, cool and reflective, turned toward the window.

Something weighing on me… enough to rise unconsciously.

A faint smile tugged at his lips, cold and crooked.

Could that truly explain it—that his flawless daily order had collapsed, all because of something so trivial?

If it was something that mattered enough to disturb him, then perhaps… perhaps it was best to remove it altogether.

In his sunlit gaze, a chill began to take hold.