INWY~34

Chapter 34

“You’ve returned, Your Grace.”

“Yes. Thank you for holding down the fort these past few days.”

Hudson greeted the Duke with his usual respectful demeanor as Dante stepped back into the palace. 

It had only been a little over two weeks, yet somehow it felt as if months had passed.

“Has anything happened here while I was away?”

At Dante’s question, Hudson paused for the briefest of moments before replying.

“No, Your Grace. Other than what I reported via telegram, there were no particular issues.”

Dante gave a small nod. 

So the Crown Prince’s intrusion had been the biggest problem.

As usual, Dante dismissed his attendants and retainers before heading to his office with only Hudson in tow. 

That was when Hudson suddenly asked,

“Are you leaving again?”

“I have to. I’ll be departing right away.”

Dante had gone straight from Florian to Arbern, but by the time he arrived, it was already late at night. 

He’d spent just one night at a hotel before heading to the royal palace at dawn.

And the moment his conversation with the Crown Prince had ended, Dante hadn’t hesitated—he returned immediately to Behern Palace. 

In truth, he’d spent two full days doing nothing but traveling.

He probably hasn’t had any real rest. 

Hudson looked at him with concern as he cautiously asked,

“Why not rest at the palace for the night and leave tomorrow morning instead?”

“No. I’ll feel more at ease if I leave now.”

Hudson tilted his head, puzzled by the response. 

Feel more at ease? 

Had he been entrusted with some important task?

Still, once Dante made a decision, there was no changing it. 

Hudson, who knew that better than anyone, didn’t press him further.

Instead, as always, he checked in on the Duke’s condition.

“Your Grace, have you been sleeping well lately?”

“Yes.”

The answer came without hesitation, but Hudson still examined Dante carefully, as if to check whether he was lying.

There wasn’t much difference in his appearance compared to before he’d left for Florian.

“Your Grace, as I always say…”

“Eat regularly. Get enough sleep.”

Dante finished the sentence for him, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“So even at thirty-one, I still look like a ten-year-old in the eyes of Lady Margaret and you, do I?”

“I apologize. It’s just that you throw yourself into your work so much—it’s hard not to worry…”

“I didn’t say that to demand an apology.”

Striding into his office, Dante seated himself at his desk with practiced ease. 

The surface was clean and organized, with only a few palace reports stacked neatly to the side.

As expected.

Though official documents still arrived regularly from Behern Palace, Hudson had been forwarding them all to Florian under a different name.

“This is all?”

“Yes. These are three days’ worth. We send internal reports once a week.”

Nodding, Dante picked up the documents and rose from his seat. 

Seeing that nothing required his immediate attention, it was time to return to Florian.

“I’ll read them on the way. Put them in the car.”

“Yes, sir.”

The journey to Florian would take the better part of a day. 

Even if he left now, he wouldn’t arrive until late at night. 

By then, the café would certainly be closed.

As Dante stepped out to change clothes, Hudson cast a sidelong glance toward him—then blinked, stunned.

He’s smiling…

Hudson quickly blinked again, just to be sure. 

But there was no mistake.

The Duke was smiling.

***

“Why isn’t he coming today?”

Sharon let out a sigh, sounding both disappointed and annoyed. 

Riena glanced toward the window seat where Dante usually sat but didn’t answer—just gave a small shake of her head.

It had been two days since the Duke said he wouldn’t be coming. 

And indeed, for two days straight, he hadn’t set foot in the café—a place he used to visit every single day.

Come to think of it… a palace attendant had come to the café once, hadn’t they? 

If they hadn’t hired someone new, that attendant had to be from the royal household—and would definitely recognize her face.

Which meant… that time he shielded her with his body—was it to hide her from the attendant?

Is that why he’s not coming? 

To keep my presence a secret…?

Riena, lost in thought, suddenly snapped out of it and shook her head hard.

She didn’t want to care. 

What he was doing, what he was thinking—it shouldn’t matter.

As Riena carefully wiped the clean teacups with a dry cloth, Sharon watched her in silence. 

Then, with a sudden gasp, she spoke up.

“Oh—wait! You took off your bandages! Is your wrist okay now?”

Her eyes wide with concern, Sharon pointed to Riena’s wrist.

“Ah… yes. I guess I overreacted at the time. It healed pretty quickly.”

Her wrist was smooth and unblemished—not a trace of redness or bruising. 

Maybe thanks to the ointment, there wasn’t even a scar.

Yes… that ointment.

He had applied it so carefully, so gently…

The memory surfaced before she could stop it, and Riena stiffened.

Shaking her head, she rubbed her wrist firmly, as if trying to scrub away the lingering sensation.

Noticing the subtle change in her expression, Sharon tilted her head curiously.

“Hmm? Rena, are you hot? Your face looks a little red. I guess it is basically summer at this point.”

She picked up the menu and began fanning Riena with exaggerated gestures.

Still fanning, Sharon suddenly peeked up at her with a sly smile.

“Hey, Rena~ Wanna get lunch with me tomorrow? Something delicious?”

“Lunch?”

Riena paused, just as she was untying her apron.

“Yeah! We’ve got the day off, remember? And sure, the town’s small, but this isn’t the only café around.”

Sharon smiled brightly, practically bouncing in place. 

Her enthusiasm was contagious.

“…Alright. Let’s go. See you tomorrow.”

“Yay! Okay, Rena! See you tomorrow, then! I’m heading out first!”

With a cheerful wave, Sharon skipped out of the café.

Riena waved back slowly, her hand lowering only after Sharon disappeared from view.

She tidied up the last few things, turned off the lights, and locked the door behind her.

And just for a second, she caught her own reflection in the glass.

A pale face.

Not a trace of a smile.

It hit her, then—her reality. She didn’t have much time left. 

She’d come here to spend the rest of her short life quietly, in peace.

How much time do I have left?

She tried to count, but the numbers blurred.

The fear of an unchangeable end pressed down on her chest.

She had come here to leave everything behind… and yet she’d created new attachments. 

It was laughable.

She should’ve stayed distant. 

Shouldn’t have let herself care.

She’d thought she’d kept a safe distance—but somehow, without realizing it, she’d drawn close to everyone. 

Too close.

And even worse… even he, the man she thought she’d escaped from, had found her again.

The weight of reality settled over her like lead. 

Her breathing grew shallow.

Her hand slipped weakly from the doorknob.

“Riena.”

A calm voice, soft yet strangely breathless, came from behind her.

She snapped out of her thoughts, spinning around in surprise.

“What’s with that face again?”

Familiar. 

His face, his voice—he stood there looking down at her, a slight crease in his brow, his bangs falling gently over his eyes.

Her stomach twisted.

Again?

Still staring at him, Riena barely moved her lips.

“…What do you mean, ‘what’s with that face’?”

“I asked you first.”

“What…?”

It happened so fast.

A gentle tug on her arm—and suddenly, he stepped in closer. 

Much closer.

“…!”

“Tell me.”

She didn’t even have time to react.

His face was right there, close enough for her reflection to shimmer faintly in his golden eyes.

In those eyes, she saw herself—pale, frightened, frozen in place.

Dante looked directly at her, and asked again.

“So why do you look like that?”

Each word he spoke brushed her face with his breath. 

Unconsciously, she swallowed hard and darted her eyes away.

But his gaze—sharp, focused, unrelenting—refused to let go.

Trying to escape, Riena lowered her head and mumbled,

“…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Your Grace. My face is perfectly normal.”

“Stubbornness only works when the timing’s right, Riena. Denial won’t help when you’ve already been caught.”

That tone—like he knew