Chapter 7
“What? A thrill?”
At the rather romantic remark from Patrick, laughter exploded from deeper within the room.
“A thrill, you say? Patrick, I didn’t take you for such a romantic! There’s no such thing between people engaged through family arrangements.”
“You guys just don’t understand. Being with that woman, Leticia, is like being with a perfectly crafted porcelain doll.”
Patrick let out a weary sigh and picked up another glass.
“She hardly speaks, always just quietly smiling no matter what’s going on. Sometimes, I even wonder if she’s really alive—it gives me the creeps.”
“Hey, isn’t that a bit harsh? What if your fiancée hears this?”
“Let her. Even if she did, she’d just smile like always, wouldn’t she?”
Clink.
Setting down his second emptied glass on the table, Patrick shrugged nonchalantly.
“I’m serious. Don’t believe me? Want to bet on it?”
“If you’re that confident, I don’t see why not.”
“…Pfft.”
Someone countered Patrick’s words, and for a moment, silence fell. Then Patrick shook his head.
“Forget it. Doesn’t seem like it’d be any fun anyway. Let’s drop this boring talk and get back to our card game.”
He quickly lost interest and returned his focus to the cards in his hand.
“…”
Leticia had been silently observing everything, standing just outside. She stepped toward where Patrick was, and as her hand pushed the slightly ajar door, it creaked loudly as it swung open, filling the hallway with the sound.
“…Leticia?”
Only moments earlier, he had been ridiculing her without hesitation. But now that Leticia was standing right there, Patrick’s expression was a sight to behold.
His eyes darted around nervously, wondering if she had overheard him, while his lips formed a feigned, cheerful smile.
Then came the frantic gestures—snuffing out a cigar, smoothing out his disheveled clothes.
In just a few steps toward her, Patrick performed a whole play of flustered actions.
“Uh… when did you get here, Leticia?”
“Just a moment ago. You said you had something urgent to attend to, but looks like you’ve been here for quite a while already, Patrick.”
“Ah… well.”
Leticia’s demeanor seemed no different than usual, and the startled look on Patrick’s face slowly faded. Before long, he was smiling again as if nothing had happened.
“Oh, I actually just arrived myself. If I had known you’d be here already, I would’ve gone to meet you at the gate. I’m sorry for making you come alone, Leticia.”
Despite claiming he’d just arrived, Patrick reeked of sweet champagne—who knew how long he’d really been drinking.
“You understand, right, Leticia?”
Calling her by her nickname with false warmth, Patrick watched her intently. Leticia, in turn, stared at him.
Honey-blonde hair casually swept to one side.
A pretty face that could have stepped out of an oil painting hanging in a temple.
Patrick was undeniably handsome—enough to turn heads wherever he went.
Though he was an illegitimate child and never fully acknowledged by Duke Godwin, his looks alone made people overlook those flaws.
Every noble lady, at one point or another, had secretly harbored feelings for Patrick.
Or perhaps “harboring” wasn’t the right word. “Actively infatuated” might be more accurate.
Especially considering the red lipstick smudged on the collar of his crisp white shirt.
“By the way, you look a little pale. Are you okay? Why don’t you come in and sit down for a bit…”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Leticia?”
Patrick reached out as if to affectionately touch her pale cheek, but Leticia subtly pulled away, making him awkwardly retract his arm.
“Mm…”
Then he reached for the dessert tray a servant was holding nearby.
The movement caused the lipstick stain to become even more visible—impossible to ignore.
Did he really not realize it was there? Or was he pretending not to know?
After a moment’s thought, Leticia came to a conclusion. Patrick definitely didn’t know the evidence of his affair was still on him.
…!
She confirmed it when he saw his reflection in the polished tray and hastily adjusted his clothes.
“Ahem! Hmph.”
Patrick shot a glare at his friends, as if blaming them for not telling him sooner, then turned back as if nothing had happened.
With his delicate hand—one that had probably never held a sword—he picked up a glass of pink champagne.
“Leticia, have a sip. It’ll refresh you.”
“You’re… offering this to me?”
“Huh? Of course! Who else would I give it to if not you?”
Patrick laughed joyfully, as if the answer were obvious.
His laughter was so natural and bright that even Leticia, who had just heard him mocking her, nearly believed it to be genuine.
If not for the champagne he was holding out to her, she might have actually believed it.
“Patrick.”
“Yes, Leticia?”
“This champagne—what’s it made of?”
“Uh… judging by the color, I’d say peach?”
“…And you want me to drink this?”
Swish.
Leticia let out a dry laugh as she watched him innocently swirl the glass.
“What’s wrong, Leticia? Don’t you like peaches? I thought you said you did… or am I mistaken?”
He was mistaken.
Leticia did not like peaches—could not like them.
The moment peach flesh touched her tongue, her throat would swell up instantly. It was impossible.
She had told him countless times.
He had even witnessed the near-disaster caused by the peach cake he gave her for her birthday.
Yet Patrick stood there with the expression of a blank canvas—as if he had no clue about her peach allergy.
Should I remind him again?
Leticia opened her mouth, ready to explain yet again, but closed it almost immediately.
There was no point anymore. It was all meaningless now.
“Leticia. Is it the fact that it’s royal cuisine that’s making you hesitate? Don’t worry—just try it. When else will you get to taste something this precious?”
With mock kindness hiding condescension, Patrick pushed the glass into her hand.
At that moment, a servant approached and handed Patrick a note.
“Sir Patrick. Someone asked me to deliver this to you…”
“To me? Who… Ah!”
Patrick looked puzzled at first, but then his expression brightened instantly.
But soon, he furrowed his brow, pretending to look apologetic.
“Leticia, I’m sorry. Something urgent just came up… I’m going to have to step out for a bit.”
“The first dance will begin soon, though.”
“Yeah… I know, but…”
Looking flustered, Patrick glanced around and then grabbed the nearest person, dragging him over to Leticia.
“Leticia, I’m really sorry—but how about dancing the first dance with my friend here? I’ll be back before the second piece starts. He’s a decent partner. Right, Greg?”
“Huh? Uh, yes! Lady Esta, would you honor me with the first dance? Haha!”
Greg gave an awkward laugh, startled by Patrick’s sharp elbow to the ribs. A piece of biscuit he’d been chewing fell into his champagne with a soft plop.
Fizz.
Bubbles formed between the doughy layers, quickly swallowing the crumbs.
“…All right. Go ahead.”
“…! Really?”
Patrick looked genuinely surprised when Leticia agreed so easily.
But only for a second—he wasted no time hurrying away, not sparing her a single glance.
And in his hand, the note he clutched bore a lipstick mark—identical to the one left on his neck.
Watching Patrick walk away without a hint of shame, Leticia turned to Greg, who was still chewing noisily.
“Sir Greg. Are you really planning to dance with me?”
“Well… Patrick asked me to, so I guess I should?”
Greg scratched his head with a thick hand, eyes shifting like a flounder.
He seemed to be eyeing the freshly refilled finger foods being set up nearby.
As his friends started approaching the table, Greg visibly flinched.
He looked nervous about missing out on his share—but he also felt obligated to dance.
His feet, planted firmly on the ground, swayed awkwardly side to side like he was waltzing already.
Feeling sorry for him, Leticia made the decision for him.
“You can go. I don’t need to dance.”
“Really? You should’ve said so sooner!”
Simple-minded as ever, Greg bolted straight to the table.
Having easily gotten rid of the nuisance, Leticia still held the glass of champagne Patrick had given her as she followed him into the banquet hall.
Then she climbed the central staircase to the second floor.
Soon after, the gentle music signaling the start of the first dance began to flow through the hall. As the tempo picked up and the noise faded into the melody…
A loud, horrified scream broke the harmony on the second-floor corridor.
“Aaack! Leticia! What the hell are you doing?! Are you crazy?!”
Patrick stood drenched in champagne.
