TDGHC Chapter 87

Chapter 87 – A Wrong Meeting

‘What can I even do?’

Loic’s shoulders slumped.

Even if he admitted his feelings, what could someone like him do? He wasn’t a proper husband, nor could he ever be a proper father. He was only living like a half-decent person because Annette stayed by his side. Once she left, he would fall apart again.

Their marriage was only a one-year contract. Already five months had passed.

Time was unfair—without her, it used to crawl unbearably slow, but now, with her near, it rushed forward too fast to grasp.

Loic thought carefully. He knew Annette had married him to escape her family. But she never explained why she had chosen one year as the contract length.

If they divorced, she would have to return to the Frais family.

“Actually, I chose one year for your sake as well, my lord.”

Did that mean—if he wanted—she might stay longer?

Hope flickered inside him. Maybe, if he negotiated well, she would extend the contract another year.

But what could he offer her that would be fair?

If she stayed in the north, his life would change completely. But for her, what good was there?

She didn’t even like jewelry or fine dresses. She found happiness in something as simple as strawberries.

Frustrated, Loic kicked at the ground.

We never should have agreed on one year. At least three… or five… or ten!

Maybe he should just beg her not to leave. She was too softhearted to refuse if he clung to her desperately.

And in the meantime, he could try again to find a way to break his curse. He had given up years ago, but now he had a reason to keep trying.

Though in truth, in ten years he hadn’t found even the slightest clue.

Just then, he sensed someone approaching. Loic quickly pulled his hood tighter.

“Your Grace?”

A silhouette appeared, walking up from the lakeside path. A noblewoman in an ornate dress. Jewels sewn into her hem tinkled as she walked.

“Oh my, it really is you, Duke!” she exclaimed, pressing her hands together as if delighted.

Loic instinctively stepped back behind a tree, wary of her approach.

“….”

He frowned.

The young lady tilted her head and smiled.
“I am Avoir Meisel. It’s been a long time, Your Grace.”

At the name Meisel, Loic’s brow darkened further.

Wasn’t she the one who had caused Annette to be hit with eggs? He had barely restrained himself from dragging her in front of Annette to apologize—only because Annette herself had stopped him.

He didn’t care whether she was a count’s daughter or even the emperor’s.

And “long time”? He didn’t even remember ever speaking with her.

She must mean that tea party…

Her familiarity was offensive.

“How did you recognize me?” Loic asked coldly.

This was the far, shadowy end of the marketplace. It couldn’t possibly be chance.

“How could I not recognize you?” she said softly.

“What?”

“Don’t you… remember me?”

She touched her cheek as if shy.

“Do I know you?” he asked, confused.

Her smile deepened as she stepped closer. Loic flinched and leaned back slightly. He didn’t want her nearer, but retreating would seem odd. She mistook his discomfort for shyness and giggled.

“The greenhouse,” she whispered.

“Greenhouse?”

“That’s where I first met you…”

Loic blinked. She must mean his mother’s greenhouse, long closed after her death. If she had been there, it was in his distant childhood.

But he couldn’t recall her.

And her heavy perfume made his stomach turn. He turned his head toward the marketplace, worried.

If Annette sees this… her mood will sour again.

Wanting to end this quickly, he nodded curtly.
“Perhaps I do remember. In any case, I’ll be going—”

“You do remember?”

Her eyes lit up strangely.

“I knew you would.”

“Wait!”

She closed the distance suddenly. Startled, Loic raised a hand to keep her back.
“Stay there.”

“But it’s so dark. Can you even see my face clearly?”

She leaned in stubbornly. As she tilted her head, something at her throat gleamed faintly yellow.

The instant Loic saw the glow, a wave of heat rushed through his body. His chest burned, his breath caught, sweat beaded at his back. His knees faltered.

“Your Grace? Are you alright?”

She reached for his arm.

No—don’t touch me!

“Your Grace!”

Her hand froze in mid-air.

Annette stood there, eyes wide. She rushed over and smacked Meisel’s hand away before it could touch him.

Meisel’s face flashed with surprise, then frustration and anger.

Annette stepped firmly between them, forcing Meisel to back away.

“Greet your duchess properly,” Annette said sharply.

“…Your Grace,” Meisel muttered, bowing stiffly.

“How dare you lay hands on the Duke,” Annette snapped.

“I wasn’t—I only thought he seemed unwell—”

“How bold of you, to touch a royal without leave.”

Meisel’s hand stung from the smack. She seethed inside. Such paranoia—over just a touch?

If Annette hadn’t been there, she wouldn’t have held back. But she couldn’t openly fight in front of the Duke.

Better to act pitiful. Men always wanted to protect fragile women.

She forced her voice to tremble.
“I only wished to pay my respects. Forgive me, Your Grace, I didn’t mean to upset you…”

“Yes, you upset me greatly,” Annette cut in coldly.

“And I thought you already knew my reputation well enough.”

“…Pardon?”

“Didn’t you once say you had heard plenty about me?”

Meisel blinked, uncertain. She glanced quickly at Loic, wondering what he thought. But Annette had pushed him behind her, his face hidden in shadow.

“I never tolerate anyone touching what’s mine,” Annette said icily.

Loic flinched behind her, his robe rustling.

“Not sly advances at my husband when my back is turned. Not ever.”

“Advances? That’s unfair! I was only—” Meisel protested, clutching her chest in a wounded act.

“If that’s true, then don’t ever approach him privately again. What business does a young lady like you have with the Duke?”

Annette didn’t stop.
“Not when I’m present, and even less when I’m not. Unless you want more suspicion.”

Moonlight fell across Loic’s face just then, and Meisel glimpsed his expression. His lips were pressed tight, his face tense.

Is he… embarrassed? she thought.

But before she could be sure, Annette’s cold glare pinned her.

“And why are you here at all? Did you even have an invitation?”

Meisel’s neck flushed red.

“I won’t ask how you snuck in,” Annette continued. “But remember my words. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Meisel whispered.

“Good. You’re said to be well-connected among the young ladies. Spread the word. The Duchess is very jealous. Anyone who flirts with the Duke will regret it.”

“….”

“Now go.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Meisel cast one last resentful glance at Loic.

The Duchess had just berated her mercilessly, yet the Duke said nothing. Not one word to defend her.

Not even a simple: Why bully an innocent lady?