SMR | Chapter 105

~Chapter 105~ 

“Haah…! Ha, for god’s sake…!”

Cedric let out a stunned, breathless laugh.

He was flustered. Shocked. A little embarrassed. And yet—strangely overwhelmed. His heart was pounding like a war drum, thudding so hard it felt ready to burst.

Why? He didn’t know.

No—he did. Now he did.

‘I’m in love with that woman.’

It was a theory he’d dismissed over and over. But now, he couldn’t deny it.

How could I, when everything finally makes sense?

That kiss beneath the city gates. Chasing after her fluttering pink dress under the influence of a drug. His anger when she came back from the Angelique party. The jealousy whenever Tez Roark was involved.

All of it.

A soft laugh escaped, giving way to a genuine grin he couldn’t hold back.

He took one step, then another—slow at first. But soon he was sprinting, faster and faster, until Harriet’s retreating figure grew closer and closer—

“Ah!”

Harriet gasped.

She’d been walking with her head down, trying to push back the sting of humiliation and angry tears.

But suddenly, strong arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her into a firm embrace.

“W-What?!”

She couldn’t even scream. Her eyes went wide as she glanced sideways—and spotted golden hair resting on her shoulder.

She knew it was Cedric the moment she smelled his scent.

But why was the same man who had just raged at her now holding her like he couldn’t bear to let her go?

“W-What are you doing?! Your Grace? Duke?!”

She squirmed instinctively, but his arms were like iron bands—immovable.

Eventually, she gave up and slumped slightly. Only then did Cedric, his face still buried against her shoulder, murmur softly:

“Are you really alright?”

Harriet blinked, confused by the sudden change.

“I mean… I didn’t get much sleep, but I’m not so fragile I’ll fall apart over that.”

“There was a trace amount of Angelique in the welcome drinks on that ship. Did you know?”

“Oh… that. Yeah, I felt a bit weird after drinking it, but I’m fine now.”

He took a deep breath.

Then, in a quieter voice, he asked:

“Tez Roark…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Harriet frowned and filled in the silence herself.

“I found out he had an invitation, so I asked him to go with me. We barely interacted on board—and he only escorted me home after.”

“Really?”

“Why would I lie about that? …And also, you’re speaking very informally all of a sudden.”

A soft vibration rumbled through her shoulder—he was laughing again.

She recognized that low chuckle. He had laughed like that before… the day he hugged her at House Laurel.

Cedric finally lifted his head and stepped back, slipping off his jacket and gently wrapping it around her shoulders.

Then—without warning—he picked her up.

“Wha—?! Hey! Put me down!”

“You’re too soaked to walk properly.”

“Your coat is going to get wet too!”

“It’s already wet. A little more won’t change anything.”

He turned, carrying her toward the back entrance of the mansion, rather than the garden exit.

Harriet squirmed in embarrassment, but he held her firmly and didn’t let her go.

As soon as they reached the door, he called out to a startled maid.

“Prepare a bath in the guest room. Now.”

Harriet covered her face with both hands until the maid disappeared, her voice a tireless whisper.

“What are you doing?! If people start gossiping that Harriet Listerwell took a bath at the Duke of Kailas’ mansion…”

“No one will gossip. My servants are forbidden from speaking a word about anything they see or hear here.”

“And how do you know that? One of your servants might’ve been the one who stole your brooch.”

“A painfully fair point. But can I ask for a bit of leniency since we did find the culprit?”

He even sounded amused.

Harriet, thoroughly flustered and embarrassed, snapped:

“Why are you being like this?!”

“The weather may be warm, but the wind’s still cold. You’ll catch a fever walking around like that.”

“If you were that worried, maybe don’t throw priceless brooches into fountains!”

“How was I supposed to know you’d dive in after it?”

Their strange back-and-forth conversation continued as Cedric gently “carried” her to the guest room.

There, the maid helped undress her and prepare a warm bath. Afterwards, Harriet found a fresh, comfortable dress and new undergarments neatly laid out for her.

***

Cedric returned, freshly changed, and politely offered:

“I’ll escort you.”

Harriet tried to refuse, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Soon, she was in a carriage, on her way back to House Pellon—with Cedric at her side.

Just before she stepped down, Harriet turned to him, still visibly confused.

“You’re acting really strange today. When we first met, you basically called me a snake in human skin, and now you…”

“I apologize for that. I was wrong.”

Pinned to his collar was the very brooch she had risked so much to return.

He took her hand to help her down from the carriage and added, almost as an afterthought:

“I think I’ll start taking a page from your book from now on.”

“…What’s that supposed to mean?”

But he didn’t answer.

He simply looked at her—eyes warm with something unspoken—and climbed back into the carriage. It pulled away, leaving her stunned on the steps.

Inside the carriage, Cedric chuckled to himself.

“I think it’s time I start following my heart.”

That feeling he’d realized—among the crashing waters of the fountain—had finally set him free.

***

But Cedric wasn’t the only one shocked by the events of that day.

“What… the hell… just happened?”

Edgar hadn’t slept at all.

He was lying across his bed, still dizzy. He’d been about to settle in for a nap when he heard Cedric shouting—from outside his open window.

“…I’m asking you! How could you—!”

At first, he thought he’d misheard.

Cedric raising his voice at someone? Impossible.

Curiosity won over exhaustion, dragging him to the window.

He peeked out—and saw Cedric standing by the fountain, clearly arguing with someone.

“Oh? Miss Harriet?”

He’d been delighted to see her, assuming she’d come to return the brooch.

But then—Cedric’s voice sounded angry.

“That bastard. You should be thanking her, not—wait! What the hell?!”

Cedric had thrown something into the fountain.

And with his well-trained instinct, Edgar knew immediately: it was the brooch.

“You absolute lunatic! Why did you throw it?!”

He was just about to yell out when—

“OH MY GOD! WHAT IS SHE—?!”

Harriet jumped into the fountain.

She dove under, clearly searching for something, while Cedric stood shouting her name—about to jump in himself.

But thankfully—or unluckily—she found the brooch and climbed out first.

And then came the real shock.

After she handed the brooch back and told Cedric off, she turned to leave.

Edgar was just about to curse Cedric out when the man suddenly ran after her—and hugged her from behind.

Edgar almost shouted right then and there, completely forgetting he was supposed to be hiding.

“Holy hell…”

He watched Cedric pick her up, bridal-style, and carry her back into the mansion.

All Edgar could do was press both hands over his mouth and back away from the window.

He hadn’t slept since—and now he couldn’t stop grinning like an idiot.

The cold statue finally woke up to women… What the hell even happened down there?

Just as he was wrestling with the overwhelming mix of amusement and curiosity, a servant arrived to inform him that the Duke had returned.

He shot up and charged toward Cedric’s study like a man on a mission.

Throwing open the door, he struck a theatrical pose and sang out dramatically:

“So spring has finally come?!”

Cedric glared at him, face like frost.

“If you’re here to talk nonsense, get out.”

“You know, the way you carried her—there’s actually a term for that. They call it the ‘princess carry.’”

Edgar pretented the gesture with flair—only to be met by an ink bottle flying at his head.