Chapter 34
Still, she couldn’t help feeling uneasy. Just as Cecilia’s fingers cautiously brushed the edge of the letter, ready to unfold it—
Knock knock. The sound broke her concentration.
“Your Grace, shall I help you look if you haven’t found it yet?”
It was Evie’s voice.
“No, I’ve found it.”
Cecilia quickly responded, slipping the edge of the letter into the jacket pocket so that only a small corner peeked out. Given how easily it had fallen out, it was unlikely it had ever been carefully hidden.
“I’ve already organized the contents we need for the report. There were a few thoughts I had after our recent visit to Lanner Island.”
With a calm smile, Cecilia handed Curtis his jacket. He slipped it on, then pushed the protruding letter deeper into the inner pocket.
“Good. I’ll read it and let you know if anything needs adjustment.”
His actions were fluid, natural. Cecilia watched it all and said nothing—her expression unchanged as she saw her father out.
“Cecilia.”
Just as she turned at the front door, Eden dismissed the servants and quietly called out to her. Cecilia looked up, meeting his gaze as he studied her face closely.
“What is it?”
“You seem upset.”
Eden’s brows drew slightly together as he spoke.
“Ah…”
Was it that obvious? Cecilia raised a hand to touch her own face.
“There’s truly nothing between me and Illina Nova.”
Eden abruptly blurted his denial. Cecilia blinked, startled by the unexpected explanation. Did he really think she might suspect something between them?
It seemed ridiculous. But when she caught the faint unease in Eden’s eyes, she realized—yes, he did believe that.
“Cecilia.”
A quiet laugh escaped her lips as she lowered her head. Eden tilted his head slightly, like a dog reading its master’s mood, straining to see her expression.
“Is it truly just a misunderstanding?”
She asked with her eyes downcast, her voice neutral. Eden clasped her hand, assuring her it was all a misunderstanding—that he had no interest in Illina whatsoever.
“I’ve heard the servants say they think Your Grace has taken a liking to Illina. I’m not blind; I can see that much.”
Cecilia’s tone was deliberately cold. Her half-lowered eyes made her look like a wife hurt by her husband’s infidelity.
“You praised her beauty, escorted her on the way to the dining hall… Those aren’t things a man does without interest.”
“Cecilia, that’s…”
Eden began, frowning.
“I know. Illina is far more attractive than I am. Who would be drawn to someone as dull as me?”
Cecilia cutting him off wasn’t a surprise. Nor was it particularly offensive. But her words, so self-deprecating, were something he couldn’t let stand.
“Who told you that?”
His voice was soft and kind—but with a chilling undertone. Cecilia lifted her gaze and met his eyes.
“No one. It’s just how I feel.”
Which meant, Eden was angry.
“Your instincts are terrible, Cecilia.”
He sighed, low and deep. Cecilia’s eyes widened in shock.
“That’s harsh.”
“It’s true.”
Eden replied evenly, lifting her face gently with both hands. Her green eyes, glittering like jewels, met his with an uncertain light.
“I showed Illina favor to gauge her intentions—and to see how you’d react.”
“……”
“To see if you’d be jealous.”
He felt embarrassed even saying it aloud, but better that than watching her spiral deeper into doubt.
“…Why?”
“I wanted to know if you truly meant it when you said you loved me.”
Cecilia flinched, startled. She thought she’d hidden it well—but Eden must have sensed her inner hesitation all along. She realized now what a grave mistake that had been.
“Of course it’s true. Of course I was jealous. Just as you couldn’t reveal it, neither could I.”
And so Cecilia, with her most radiant smile, whispered a lie in the softest voice.
Eden smiled in return—his smile as beautiful as her false confession.
“Who’s there?”
It was still far too early for visitors. Yet someone had come to the residence where Count Nova was staying. The steward, eyes still heavy with sleep, looked up in surprise at the man standing before him.
“I come by order of His Highness the Crown Prince. Open the gate.”
“…Pardon?”
Who? The steward blinked rapidly, trying to clear his foggy vision. The man before him sighed, reached into his robe, and produced something.
“Gasp!”
The steward jolted fully awake. What the man held out was a royal access writ, bearing the Crown Prince’s seal. Though called a “request,” it was, in effect, a command—one that could not be refused.
“P-Please, come in. I’ll inform the Count immediately. He’s… currently asleep…”
This had never happened before. Not even Duke Rain had arrived unannounced like this.
“No.”
“Pardon? Aren’t you here to see the Count?”
“Take me directly to his study.”
The steward was baffled. Why ask for the study, rather than the lord of the house himself? But he didn’t understand the meaning of the Crown Prince’s seal, nor what this man truly represented.
“The study is… the Count’s private domain…”
“Do you believe a mere Count stands above His Highness the Crown Prince?”
The man threw back the hood of his robe, revealing a long scar down one side of his face, his tone laced with authority. The steward flinched under the man’s chilling gaze and quickly shook his head.
Count Nova, of course, held power—but it was nothing compared to the authority of the Crown Prince. Besides, when your life is in the hands of the man standing before you, the Count’s rank hardly mattered.
“P-Please, this way. You—escort him to the study, now!”
The steward had no idea who this man truly was, but his piercing stare and cutting presence made it impossible to deny him. Hastily, the steward opened the doors wide to receive him.
“This way, please.”
As the man turned, the steward finally noticed there was someone else behind him. The first man’s massive frame had blocked his view, but now he realized—there were more.
“What in the world…?”
Even so, how had he missed such large men entirely? He had never in his life seen someone so towering, so solid.
The steward blinked in disbelief. Beyond the two men entering the house, soldiers were now encircling the estate. Not a small number either. He watched them, heart pounding, as they ascended the stairs.
He was just a lowly servant with no real knowledge—but something felt terribly, irreversibly wrong. Should he run now? His mind raced.
“P-perhaps I’ll just… step outside for a moment…”
Yes. Escape was the only answer. The steward tried to slip quietly toward the door, but before he could, the stern-faced man blocked his path.
“I-I need to visit the market. The Count asked me personally…”
He muttered, nearly groveling. But the man didn’t move.
“By order of His Highness the Crown Prince, as of this moment, not even a rat may enter or leave this estate.”
Clang. The man struck the floor with the sheath of his sword. The steward flinched and stumbled backward. At last, his slow mind recognized the insignia emblazoned on the sheath—the royal crest of House Wyatt.
“Even if it concerns Count Nova or his direct kin.”
Soldiers who moved only by royal decree—an elite force composed solely of the Crown’s finest. The Royal Guard.
“Move aside!”
A sharp voice rang out behind the soldiers.
It was Illina, the young mistress of the house—the very one who had vexed the steward daily for years. Even with decades of experience serving others, she was not someone easily appeased.
“This is my house! Why won’t you let me through? I need to see my father, now!”
Her shrill cries stirred the sleeping estate. One by one, lights began flickering on in the windows.
“Are you Illina Nova?”
The dawn, and with it, the low voice of the man, broke the morning stillness.
“…Yes, I am. And who are you?”
Somehow, it felt… too late.
