SMR | Chapter 80

 ~Chapter 80~

“Oof! Ah, Duke Kailas—pardon me!”

An elderly gentleman who had bumped into Cedric bowed in apology.

‘I can’t even walk straight anymore, huh?’

Cedric swallowed dryly and gave the man a polite smile before continuing on his way, trying to keep his composure.

He was getting closer to the doorway that led out to the garden, his steps shaky and unsteady. That’s when something wrapped around his arm like a snake—slender and sudden.

He slowly turned his head to look.

It was a woman with black hair and pale skin. Her face was blurred in his vision, as if he were looking through fog. And yet, strangely enough, her red lips stood out vividly in the haze, as if painted there just for him.

He stared blankly as those lips moved, whispering softly.

“You don’t have to hold back.”

Hold back? From what?

His dazed thoughts were slow and sluggish, trying to catch up with her words. Then, as if reading his mind, she leaned closer and murmured again.

“I’ll make you feel good.”

Cedric didn’t even know what that meant anymore. His body already felt strange and heated. What more was there to offer?

“Come with me.”

She pulled at his arm—not roughly, but firmly. And even though her strength wasn’t forceful, Cedric didn’t resist. His body simply followed.

Strangely enough, she was leading him in the same direction he had already intended to go—the back garden of the Laurel estate.

Lights had been strung up along the pathways, but the deeper corners of the garden remained dim and shadowy. The barriers formed narrow walls that concealed the quiet murmurs of hidden couples, whispering secrets and sharing kisses under the cover of darkness.

‘Why was I heading here again?’

Cedric vaguely remembered wanting to reach the garden before she appeared, but now he couldn’t recall his original purpose. The soft pressure of her breasts against his arm seemed to be clouding his thoughts. The feel of her was… soft, strange, and slightly unreal.

She continued to stroke his forearm, her hand gliding up and down with a feathery touch. It should’ve made him run away. It should’ve repelled him.

Instead, a strange anticipation stirred in his chest.

“There’s a quiet spot just over here.”

She guided him with slow, seductive steps, and as they moved, a subtle rose scent drifted on the air.

Even in his fogged state, Cedric found that odd.

‘Isn’t it February? Why do I smell roses?’

His mind and body weren’t working together anymore. Though suspicions were murmured by his dulled logic, his feet kept stumbling forward.

He startled, his balance leaning forward. As he bent slightly, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“In the greenhouse, we can have some fun. No one will bother us there,” she whispered, her voice soft and gentle. “Come on now…”

Cedric couldn’t process her words. But somehow, his legs kept following her.

Or they would have.

Just before they reached the greenhouse, Cedric turned his head—and caught a glimpse of something: a swish of pink fabric disappearing behind a wall.

That moment of clarity cut through the fog like a blade.

“Let… go.”

He firmly removed her hand from his arm, eyes still fixed on the distant shape in pink.

“Cedric?”

The woman called his name, startled. But Cedric didn’t respond. He shoved her aside and dashed toward the direction where the pink vision had vanished. 

His movements were clumsy, his limbs heavy. He wasn’t sure if he was even walking properly anymore—but none of that mattered.

‘Don’t go. Wait for me.’

The desperate urge to catch up to that light, that fragile hope, was the only thing pushing him forward—deeper into the garden.

***

‘Did I wander too far?’

Harriet glanced around the darkening garden, a slight nervousness curling in her chest.

She had stepped outside for some air after her ‘mission’ to help restore Viviana’s reputation was mostly complete. She didn’t think she would be this far away from the ballroom.

Originally, she’d just wanted to sit for a while and relax. But one awkward romantic encounter after another had broken the silence she had been looking for.

Trying to avoid the muffled moans and stifled giggles of other couples, she’d unintentionally ended up deep in the garden.

‘Well… it’s peaceful here at least. A bit chilly, but bearable.’

She arrived at a small stone gazebo tucked away behind a wall and paused to listen carefully.

No suspicious sounds. No whispering couples.

Relieved, she let out a sigh and placed herself on the edge of the stone railing.

The Empire’s winters were milder than most. By early February, the winds began to soften, and the snow eased slightly. Still, it was cold enough to be unpleasant without proper covering.

She was thankful she’d brought a lace shawl, even if it wasn’t particularly warm—it was better than nothing.

‘I shouldn’t stay too long or I’ll freeze. Just a few minutes, and I’ll go back inside.’

She knew coming this far from the main hall might seem suspicious. But after nearly three hours of being on her best behavior—holding her posture perfectly, keeping her smile fixed, watching every move of her hands—Harriet needed a break. A moment to just breathe.

With a quick glance around to make sure she was alone, Harriet reached behind her back and untied the tight ribbon holding her dress together.

“Ack, finally. My back…”

She leaned against the stone pillar, sighing in relief. It was cold to the touch, but her muscles welcomed the support.

“Tomorrow… I’m not getting out of bed until lunch.”

She half laughed at the thought and muttered her own decision under her breath.

But her plans were interrupted by the faint sound of rustling footsteps—grass and leaves being crushed under someone’s shoes.

Harriet jumped to her feet.

The lights from the ballroom glowed faintly in the distance, but no one would hear her scream from here. Her heart thumped in her chest.

Run? Hide? She hadn’t decided yet when a voice called out gently from the shadows.

“Forgive me for startling you. Lady Harriet, isn’t it? I’m Tez Roark. Do you… remember me?”

Tez Roark?

Harriet scrambled through the dusty corners of her memory.

Ah, yes. During the days when Bella had been frequently attending masquerade balls, one man had shown up with a huge bouquet of roses—Tez Roark, the second son of Count Roark.

He was tall, handsome, and famously seductive. Women fell for him like petals in the wind.

He had gained a reputation as the “temptation of high society.” And Bella, naturally, had gained fame by rejecting him.

Harriet, on the other hand, had been mocked for pretending to be Bella and seducing him. That was the story that went around, anyway.

In truth, it had been Bella all along. However, it was the first time Tez had failed to win a woman. He had even proposed the idea of marriage—something no one expected from a man like him.

‘If only he’d been the first son of the Roark family, Bella would’ve revealed herself,’ Harriet thought bitterly.

If Bella had accepted, maybe Harriet wouldn’t have suffered so much afterward.

Looking at him now, Harriet felt a bitter taste in her mouth. She gave a forced smile.

“Yes… I remember. You’re the one who claimed we met at the masquerade.”

Tez smiled lightly and took a few steps closer.

“I’ve wanted to speak with you privately for some time. But the chance never came.”

“And why would you need to speak with me?”

“Because I owe you an apology,” he said, his voice tinged with regret.

“I know it’s too late, but I’m sorry. I should’ve said it was Bella, not you, who spent the night with me. I was angry at her for pretending not to know me, and I didn’t think about how much you’d suffer in her place.”

Harriet’s eyes widened.

“Wait. Are you saying… you already knew it was Bella? Even then?”

“How could I not?” Tez said softly. “A man remembers the woman he spent an intimate night with. Her scent, her voice, her gaze—they’re all different.”

Harriet was glad it was dark. If it were daylight, she might’ve burst into tears from how wide her eyes had gotten.

“You watched me lower my head and apologize to you… and said nothing?”

“I was a coward. I’m sorry.”

He bowed deeply, just as Harriet had once bowed to him in humiliation.

It made it hard to stay angry. But she couldn’t forgive him so easily either.

“…Fine. I’ll accept the apology. But don’t ask me to forgive you. Not now.”

“Of course. I only wanted to express my regret, not demand anything.”

Then he tilted his head slightly, his voice dropping into a whisper.

“But… if you ever wanted to get revenge on Bella—I’d be more than willing to help.”

Harriet narrowed her eyes.

The clouds above them parted slowly, letting in the pale light of the moon. She couldn’t see his expression clearly, but she could hear the implication in his voice.

Men who once chased Bella were never… entirely sane.

“You’re offering to help me get revenge on a woman you once loved. And I’m just supposed to believe that?”

“I was a victim too,” he said calmly. “Is it so strange for two victims to join hands?”

“A victim?” Harriet scoffed, unable to hold back a bitter laugh.

Yes, people were selfish by nature. But hearing him call himself a “victim” in front of her—the one who took the majority of the gossip—was almost insulting.

“There was a time when I believed that too. But now? You’re just another person who hurt me. So tell me, what exactly did Bella do to you that was so awful you consider yourself a victim?”

“That’s…”

He hesitated.

And in that silence, Harriet stared at him with cold, knowing eyes.

The game was changing—and she wasn’t going to be played again.