TMBS 11💖

• CHAPTER 11: Addy’s Weakness

Just before entering the grand hall, the chamberlain had discreetly tipped off Grey about where his seat would be. Right up front—right next to the prince.

What a lavish seat to give a latecomer. It practically screamed, “Look at me, I’ve got a royal patron!” in front of all the clerks.

Grey gave a dry chuckle. Just before crossing the threshold into the banquet hall, he politely but firmly sent the chamberlain away. Then, with his usual unhurried gait, he walked past the main entrance and slipped in through a side door left slightly ajar.

Thankfully, he wasn’t too late. On stage, Nox was in the middle of delivering a report-cum-speech.

With his low voice listing the court’s key issues for the year, Nox’s presence was still at odds with typical nobility. Dark skin, a solid frame, sharply defined masculine features. He had a touch of the wild about him.

And yet—so solemn. So damn serious. That intensity of his was currently leaving the roomful of bureaucrats in a daze.

Fighting sleep, more like. Like they’d gone toe-to-toe with the Sandman. His lethality really was increasing by the day.

Grey let out a soft chuckle as he walked to the back of the hall, hands stuffed in his trouser pockets.

He’d grown so much. Before heading off to study abroad, he’d been just a scrawny little runt.

Nox Gregory.

A poor orphan his older brother, Hudson, had randomly brought home from the orphanage one day.

“Noblesse oblige is our duty, plain and simple. It’s your turn to uphold that duty by supporting your brother’s act of goodwill.”

The Duke of Valloneque had suddenly foisted this unexpected obligation on his youngest son studying abroad in Halloch, handing him a tiny fiefdom he’d never even asked for.

It was low—but what could he do? He was still his father, after all.

So, despite barely knowing the kid, Grey had ended up financing Nox’s academy education.

In hindsight, it hadn’t been such a bad duty to fulfill. Look at him now—he’d grown enough to become the Head Secretary of the Royal Court.

Grey quietly took a seat in a corner chair against the wall. There wasn’t much need to glance around—the hall was a disaster. A very quiet disaster.

At tables divided by department, the clerks were either twisting in their seats or nodding off entirely. A mystery who had partied all night and who hadn’t.

Then Grey spotted her—Adele Nora—diagonally across from him, eyes fixed on the stage.

While everyone else looked half-dead, she alone sat straight-backed. So very her.

Detached but diligent. A dull reddish-brown dress, long hair tied neatly in half, dark glasses glinting sharply.

At a glance, she seemed just as bored as the rest. But she was also the only one truly paying attention to Nox’s speech.

He’d sensed it in their earlier conversation—this woman took her work at court seriously. Maybe that’s why she gave her all, even in moments like this.

If that were the case, it was applause-worthy. Squaring off against someone like Nox? Impressive.

Grey leaned back into his chair, relaxing. And, in his own way, he focused too—not on Nox Gregory, but on Adele Nora.

How long had he been watching her? That thought crept in, and with it came a realization—his gaze had lingered on Adele Nora far longer than he’d intended.

And more curiously, during all that time, her eyes had stayed glued to the stage. More precisely, on Nox Gregory.

Grey slowly surveyed the room again. His gaze passed over the nodding clerks and landed once more on the stage.

Of course, Nox was still there—reading the prepared text in that same dry tone, his chiseled face impassive.

Grey’s eyes slid back to the woman with the dark glasses and neatly tied hair. She hadn’t changed. Still looking as disinterested as ever, but still listening intently.

Unlike the others, she wasn’t distracted—not even a little.

A strange feeling crept over Grey. Almost instinctive.

She’s not listening to the speech.

She’s watching him. Watching Nox Gregory. Pretending not to, but doing it relentlessly.

Why?

Was there something about Nox? Sure, he was good-looking. But was Adele the type to care about that?

Grey thought back to their first meeting—the dispassionate eyes behind dark lenses, the total lack of awe or embarrassment when she looked at him. Like she was counting the corners of a pebble on the ground and suddenly wondered, Why am I even doing this? before kicking it aside.

That same cold indifference…

Even when she pulled the rope from his ankle. Even when she scribbled in the ledger at Hawks House. Even in that narrow alley by the docks, right before she provoked him.

She’d looked at him like that—like he was a rock.

This Grey Roer Valloneque—just a rock to be kicked aside.

But Nox?

Why him?

Grey’s blue eyes narrowed slightly.

The speech ended. A few more followed, then the prince wrapped up with a closing address.

Once Nox stepped down from the stage, Adele’s eyes no longer stayed fixed on it. Like the others, she stretched, scribbled a few notes. Just going through the motions.

But occasionally, she glanced off to the side—where Nox sat, far from the prince’s table.

She tried to make it subtle, but Grey saw it clearly. She kept sneaking looks at him.

Why? Because the whole time, Grey had only been watching her.

A sly smile curved at the edge of Grey’s lips. He had a keen sense for things—almost animal-like. And when he had a hunch, he was usually right.

And those instincts almost always worked in his favor.

A soft laugh slipped between his red lips.

Gotcha. Addy’s weakness.

Grey was on his way out after a private conversation with the prince.

Once again, he declined the chamberlain’s offer to escort him. Instead, he wandered leisurely through the castle.

The innermost part of Karl Castle—the royal family’s private inner palace—was always tranquil. Like a historic garden from a classic painting.

Just outside, however, the splendor exploded. From the hallway into the central palace, everything gleamed with gaudy extravagance, showing off the current regime’s wealth.

Golden columns, intricate carvings—it was over the top.

Compared to the sleek national style of Halloch’s castles, this place felt like someone overdosing on gold leaf. Late to the game, Karl reveled in its southern privilege under the northern shield of Halloch. Bloated opulence, unaware it was a barrier to industrial and commercial progress.

Finally exiting the central palace, Grey headed for the castle gates where his carriage waited. Then, on impulse, he changed course.

Where was it again? The west wing, where the court clerks worked?

He’d played all over this castle with Prince Harold—Harry—as a kid, but hadn’t been past the central palace in years.

A few surprised maids and attendants blushed and bowed as he passed. Grey responded with casual charm. He was used to shy faces and admiring eyes.

“Excuse me, could you tell me how to get to the west wing?”

“Oh, yes! Just turn over there. If you’re unsure, I could show you—”

Another standard perk: excessive kindness.

“How kind of you. But it’s fine, I’m just enjoying a quiet stroll on my own.”

“Oh, of course. Enjoy your walk, sir.”

“Thank you, milady.”

When he gave them a wink and a smile, their lips trembled trying not to grin. Adorable.

To Grey, the world was always this kind. With easy confidence, he walked in the direction they’d pointed.

And it wasn’t even a lie—he really was enjoying this walk. Every step felt light, almost playful. Maybe it was the excitement of what was coming. Even the breeze felt refreshing.

Inside the west wing, Grey looked around. For a place where the country’s top minds worked, it was surprisingly shabby compared to the central palace. Not his problem, though.

He opened a door marked Treasury Department and walked in like he owned the place.

“Hey, Mensha.”

“Huh? Grey?!”

Mensha still looked half-dead from their all-night partying at Full Moon. His wide eyes were about the only thing awake.

“What brings you here?”

Grey almost glanced toward someone with black hair and glasses—but smiled instead.

“Came to hear Nox speak. Thought I’d drop by and see where my friend works.”

“Oh, right. Chief Secretary Nox.”

Most nobles in Karl knew by now that Nox had the backing of House Valloneque.

Mensha slowly got up and led Grey to a clean table. Grey spoke just a little louder than necessary.

“Even though I see him all the time at home, watching him command the room here was different. I get it now—this must be what parents feel like watching their kids grow up.”

“Seriously? You two aren’t even that far apart in age.”

“Maybe that’s why it feels even more precious—like a son I raised with love.”

Of course, he’d raised his voice for a reason—so a certain someone could hear it clearly.

With a sidelong glance, Grey saw the back of a neatly tied head of black hair. And below it, a small hand that had paused mid-note-taking.

God, this was exhilarating.

Grey reined in the rising thrill in his chest, slowly letting the satisfaction sink in.