Chapter 7
Lunaria and Frantes left their horses at the inn at the entrance of the village and walked together.
Though Frantes had set out boldly, on the way he had driven his horse quietly without saying much. Perhaps he thought that if he struck up conversation, it might burden Lunaria since he didn’t know how skilled she was at riding.
Emily had insisted several times that Lunaria must return to the Veila mansion before evening.
Emily worries too much.
Indeed, for an ordinary young lady of her age, just walking alongside a tall and handsome man from the capital would have been thrilling.
But not for me. Not then, and not now. To me, Frantes is merely Madame Mezen’s nephew. Nothing more, nothing less.
Since she knew that no feelings had blossomed between them in her past life, she was even more indifferent about it now. What remained in Lunaria was only a faint sense of gratitude toward Frantes.
She once wondered—what if she had married him?
At the moment of her death, she had entertained that foolish thought.
But having returned, she realized not marrying him had been a good decision.
Anyone who shared a life with Lunaria would only end up unhappy.
She had no intention of sharing Frantes’ life in this life either.
For his sake.
“Who taught you how to ride?” Frantes asked—the very same question as before.
“Miss Emily,” Lunaria replied—the same answer as before.
“You had a good teacher. I also…”
Frantes trailed off, a sly smile playing on his lips—the kind of smile he always wore before teasing someone.
“Emily never told you about her past, did she?”
“No. Not once.”
“Ah.”
A short silence fell.
“Aren’t you curious?”
“Everyone has their circumstances. I also have worries and matters I can’t speak about with others.
Ah, I don’t mean you were wrong to ask.”
“You’ve already scolded me plenty. Yes, I was wrong,” Frantes laughed.
“That’s not it, really.”
“Then what’s your worry, Lunaria? Something you can’t even tell a foreigner like me?
I’ll keep your secret. Say it—you’ll feel as light as air once it’s off your chest.”
Lunaria considered briefly how much she could tell him.
“I was betrothed as a child.”
“Yes.”
“And now, I’m wondering how to get properly cast aside.”
“…What?”
Frantes looked bewildered.
“Why do you want to be cast aside? Wouldn’t it protect your honor more if you demanded the annulment yourself?”
“No. I have to be the one cast off. Otherwise, he’ll never let go.”
Her fiancé had no real ability, only pride.
Even after Lunaria’s family fell into ruin, the engagement remained for a simple reason:
He didn’t want to admit that his choice had been a mistake.
So he would never end it just because Lunaria wished it.
She had to find a way to be discarded.
In her past life, she had desperately hidden her disgrace from Frantes,
and the wounds she suffered at the hands of her family and fiancé.
But in this life, she intended to confess everything.
What did it matter?
She had already exposed the very bottom of herself in her past life, leaving her pride behind there.
But now… he didn’t even ask why I want to annul it.
Normally, people would ask.
It became clear to her before arriving at the Veila mansion: Frantes had already investigated her.
What had he thought upon hearing the details?
That she was a fool? Or perhaps he pitied her?
“Then how about this method?”
Frantes smiled and looked her in the eye.
“Having an affair with the employer’s nephew.”
“That’s nonsense.”
Lunaria chuckled and dismissed the idea at once.
“You’re far from my type, Frantes. No one would believe it.”
Frantes froze in place.
Lunaria stepped into a fruit shop and greeted the owner brightly.
When Frantes didn’t follow, she turned back in puzzlement.
“Frantes?”
He quickly strode in, placed a hand against the wall, and leaned his handsome face close to hers.
Soft curls swayed over his forehead.
His breath nearly touched her skin.
Lunaria lowered her eyes for a moment, then boldly met the blue of his gaze.
“As you just said… I’m far from your type?”
“Yes. You are.”
She answered playfully and turned away to inspect the lemons the shopkeeper offered.
The owner glanced between Lunaria and the mysterious handsome man, his expression itching to gossip.
Once they stepped out, surely the entire town of Tilbury would be buzzing with rumors—
About the most unfortunate woman in the village and the enigmatic gentleman who seemed tied to her.
“Then what is your type, Lunaria?”
Frantes’ eyes sparked with blue fire.
He was always this competitive.
Whenever her fiancé raged at seeing them together, Frantes would go out of his way to speak more with Lunaria, right in front of him.
“Hmm…”
In her mind, the image of her fiancé appeared faintly, then dispersed like mist.
Once, she had thought him worth giving half her life to.
Now, even the faintest trace of feeling was gone.
“Someone who can take responsibility for me, for a lifetime.”
But she no longer expected such fortune.
Her previous life had already proven her fate could never be happiness.
She neither hoped nor imagined otherwise—because disappointment was too bitter.
“So, your fiancé wasn’t that sort of man?”
“No. That’s why I intend to discard him first.”
She picked out a glossy, large lemon from the pile, paid, and left the shop.
Lunaria then took Frantes to the most sophisticated café in Tilbury.
It was a new style from the capital, even boasting outdoor tables.
Having come all the way to the busy district with him, she wanted at least to treat him to a drink.
Strangely, though he was a wealthy duke’s son, she felt the urge to play host.
After all, their connection would end in just a few months.
Frantes looked at the café with a peculiar expression.
She could almost read his thoughts now, where before she hadn’t noticed.
“Surprising, isn’t it? That even this countryside has a café like this.”
“…Yes, it is.”
He nodded.
“The cherry black tea here is good—based on rosehip and hibiscus. I recommend it.”
It perfectly suited Frantes’ taste for sweet and refreshing things.
Lunaria checked the money in her purse.
…Oh?
After buying the lemon, almost nothing remained.
Usually Emily filled her purse generously for errands,
but today she had given her just enough for the lemon.
Was it because she worried Lunaria might be distracted by Frantes?
“Frantes, do you have any money on you?”
She had no choice but to boldly ask her guest for funds.
Frantes blinked a few times, then burst out laughing—something about it had struck him as hilarious.
Lunaria’s face turned faintly red.
“Of course I should be the one treating you. Should I order the entire menu? Anything you can’t eat?”
“No, that’s not what I meant…”
Now her neck flushed crimson.
“I’m just curious, that’s all. About how the food at a Tilbury café tastes.”
When the server came to take their order, Frantes requested two teas and every dessert available.
His lips kept curving into a smile.
“…Stop laughing.”
“Sorry, sorry. You’re too cute. I’ll stop now.”
When Lunaria lowered her head, Frantes tapped the table lightly.
She looked up to find him smiling brightly.
“What are you using the lemon for?”
“To bake a lemon cake for dinner. Madame Mezen loves it.”
Talking about familiar daily matters calmed her again.
“Aren’t your aunt and Emily scary? I grew up with them, but even now they’re frightening.
Did you see Randolph earlier? He practically crawled on the ground after meeting Emily.”
“They’re thoughtful and always kind. I respect them.”
“…Are we talking about the same people?”
Frantes gave a dry laugh.
But Lunaria’s answer was drowned out by a noisy group entering the café.
Frantes’ brows furrowed slightly.
Lunaria turned back without thinking, then quickly faced forward again.
How could I forget this?
Her chest pounded from the sudden encounter.
She couldn’t fully concentrate on Frantes’ words anymore.
A rowdy group of young men took seats noisily.
Noble youths detested by the people of Tilbury—no different from street thugs.
They pretended to discuss lofty studies and philosophy at cafés,
but in reality, they spent their afternoons plotting brothel visits, and their nights on gambling and drink.
She had forgotten this café was one of their usual haunts.
Among them sat Lunaria’s fiancé—
Jakoran Marmore.
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