Ch. 10
TFNATPNEpisode 10 “How was the reading?” As soon as Schumieren stepped into his office, Jun approached him. Schumieren took off his jacket and sank into the sofa. The servant quickly brought water, which Schumieren downed in one gulp without pausing for breath. Ever since meeting Ariel, an unquenchable thirst lingered within him. “Didn’t enjoy yourself?” Jun asked as soon as Schumieren set the glass down with a thud. Schumieren turned his head slightly. “Not at all. I enjoyed it very much.” “Really?” His unexpected answer drew surprise, and Schumieren chuckled faintly, letting his head fall back against the sofa. Jun had hoped for him to say more, but Schumieren offered nothing. The reading was not an event he cared to remember. Eyes darting about, searching desperately for ways to exploit one another—it was the look of hyenas. Repulsive. Disgusting. What had caught Schumieren’s interest was Ariel. Not the Ariel who brazenly tried to seduce him, but the one who had flatly rejected Duke Blake’s offer of patronage. That image had lingered in his mind all the way home. Blake was, by all accounts, a superb patron. Not someone admirable as a person, but in terms of influence and power, there was no greater name to be tied to than that of a duke’s household. Moreover, the duke’s family had long maintained a tradition of patronage, which meant far fewer risks of unwanted scandals. Granted, Blake’s gaze on Ariel was anything but pure. But then, no man who offered her patronage would likely be pure in his intentions. Ariel stirred primal instincts. Her beauty was not merely surface-deep. When she looked up with those pale, almost translucent eyes, one could not help but imagine the tears that might fall—how breathtaking, how pitiful they might be. How devastatingly beautiful. Or heartbreakingly tragic. “Damn.” The thought turned crude, and with a curse, Schumieren stood abruptly, shaking it off. “What’s wrong, my lord?” From the desk where he was sorting papers, Jun looked up in alarm. “Find out more about Ariel. And get me two tickets to the races tomorrow.” “The races? But you’ve never cared for those.” Jun had already expected Schumieren might someday order an investigation into Ariel, but the mention of the races caught him off guard. “I’ll be going.” The only reason was Ariel. Schumieren could almost hear her voice still. ‘Duke Blake can’t give me what I want. Neither can His Majesty. Only you, my lord, can. So let’s make a wager. If I lose, I’ll step aside without complaint.’ He wanted to know what it was she wanted. But the darkened hallway was not the place to ask, so he hadn’t. In the end, he had made a promise with her. To satisfy his curiosity, he would have to meet her again. Her confident proposal of a wager also intrigued him. ‘If I win three times, you must become my patron.’ ‘The terms don’t favor you, Miss Ariel.’ ‘I know. But I’m certain I won’t lose.’ Schumieren, who found the very system of patronage distasteful, welcomed such conditions. He had agreed without hesitation. The first wager she proposed: predicting the winner of a horse race. “Have tomorrow’s race list prepared by morning.” “You’re taking this seriously?” “If I’m going, I may as well win.” Few knew, but Schumieren’s competitive streak was ferocious—almost savage. Jun, who served him closely, knew this well. If Schumieren set his mind on winning, then win he would. Jun expected nothing less this time. By early morning, Middleton Racetrack was already bustling. Horse racing was the kingdom’s only legalized form of entertainment and gambling. It often caused trouble, but neither the magistrates nor the king himself cared. For that reason, Schumieren had always disliked it. To think he was here, watching fools scream themselves hoarse over galloping animals. A bitter taste filled his mouth, his expression hardening naturally. “Have you chosen your horse, my lord?” But the moment Ariel appeared, his features softened into that faint, signature smile of his. He turned toward her. “I intend to bet on Horse Number Three. And you, Miss Ariel?” “Number Three is a fine choice. The jockey’s excellent, and they’ve worked together for three years. Their record’s been steadily rising, with multiple wins. Their start is incredibly fast.” Ariel explained perfectly the same reasons Schumieren had chosen the horse after reviewing reports that morning. “Will you choose the same horse? Then our wager wouldn’t stand.” The rule of today’s bet was to pick the winner. Choosing the same horse would nullify it. “I know, my lord. That’s why I’ve chosen Number Five—Jeti.” “Jeti?” It was the very horse Schumieren had dismissed outright. To be exact, he hadn’t even considered it. Efficiency was everything to him. He had only studied Jun’s summaries of the horses with a real chance of winning. He had skimmed Jeti’s entry, but the details were sparse, and the first line was damning enough: Frequent conflicts with jockey. In racing, harmony between horse and jockey was crucial. Without it, victory was impossible, sometimes even completion doubtful. By that measure, Jeti’s odds were nonexistent. ‘I thought she was clever… Perhaps not.’ Disappointment flickered through Schumieren. ‘If she loses this first round, the rest won’t even matter. That’ll save me the trouble of rearranging my schedule.’ He offered his arm to her with little interest now. Regardless of his opinion, escorting her was the gentleman’s duty. “Shall we?” Ariel flinched slightly before resting her hand on his arm. A faint blush spread across her cheeks. Schumieren’s eyes flashed. His cooled curiosity rekindled instantly. At the reading, she had acted as though the whole world’s men knelt at her feet—yet now she blushed shyly. What was her real face? He concealed his intrigue as he guided her to the reserved box seats. Ariel kept glancing around as they walked briskly. “There are so many people here.” “Your first time?” She nodded bashfully—an unexpected answer. “I thought you came often.” “In truth, I don’t like it.” She admitted candidly. Ariel had chosen the races for the wager only because she knew the outcome for certain, and because it was the quickest way to determine victory. She remembered it vividly, from her past life—because the newspapers had made such a sensation of it. Schumieren, unaware of this, had assumed she was knowledgeable or even fond of racing. But no, apparently not. ‘Always full of surprises.’ He glanced at her lightly as they reached their box. “There’s our seat.” He gestured ahead. The box resembled one from an opera house, affording them privacy while still overlooking the entire track. “These must have been difficult to reserve…” Ariel murmured under her breath. Regardless of their personal feelings, racing was immensely popular. Without advance booking, tickets were nearly impossible to secure—especially exclusive box seats favored by nobles. “It wasn’t difficult for me. Don’t trouble yourself about it.” Schumieren’s words carried the gentle consideration so unique to him. Few noblemen spoke this way. Most preferred to boast, “Look how great I am!”—like Duke Blake. “Please, sit.” He guided her to the cushioned chair. A small table with refreshments stood behind them, a long sofa nearby. From here, the oval track was spread out in full view. “Perfect timing.” No sooner had they sat than the crowd erupted, the announcer beginning the day’s introduction. Ariel clutched her betting slip tightly. ‘I’ll win.’ Even knowing the result, her palms were damp with sweat. Schumieren, relaxed with a drink in hand, watched only her. The race itself did not matter to him. Even when the starting gun fired, even as the horses thundered forward, his eyes never left Ariel. The way she bit her lip nervously. The veins bulging on her clenched hands. And finally— “I won! Jeti won, my lord!” Her ecstatic cry as she threw herself into his arms. Her soft body pressing against his made Schumieren stiffen, frozen. He had lost. Not only the wager, but something more dangerous besides. Next
August 16, 2025
