Chapter 10: What It Means to Become Real

It was the final night of the ball. As Kaylon held Lyra’s hand to help her out of the carriage, he glanced at another carriage that had just arrived and murmured softly.

“House Fontpagneu.”

As if his words were a spell, Lyra, who had just stepped down, called to him quietly.

“Your Grace.”

Kaylon met her gaze silently, hearing the faint tremor in her voice. Though she appeared rather composed, it was easy to guess what she was thinking.

He studied the sea-green eyes that waited for his permission, then released her hand.

“Go in ahead.”

Then, as if making way for her, he entered the entrance hall with its spilling orange light, acknowledging the bows of those who lowered their heads to him.

Shortly after, the door of the carriage at the rear opened, and a woman with light brown hair piled in layers emerged. Lyra approached with measured steps so as not to appear too eager, and greeted her.

“Good evening, Lady.”

“Good evening, Miss Norris.”

After returning the greeting with a polite face, Marchioness Fontpagneu turned away as if there was nothing more to discuss. Lyra quickly moved to stop her.

“Could you spare a moment of your time?”

Blue eyes turned toward Lyra with curiosity.

“Do you have business with me?”

“I wanted to thank you.”

“Did I do something worthy of thanks?”

Her slightly androgynous yet elegant voice carried a genuine tone of puzzlement.

“I heard it was you who stopped the cricket match. It helped me when I was in difficulty. Thank you, Lady.”

After speaking deliberately and offering a gentle smile, Lyra saw the Marchioness Fontpagneu tilt her head slightly.

“If that’s the reason, then thanks are even less necessary. I wasn’t protecting you, but the honor of the ladies.”

“Even so, you remain my benefactor. Regardless of the reason, I wanted to express my gratitude, Lady.”

“Is that so?”

Those tranquil eyes examined Lyra’s face for a moment. Just as tension began to build from not being able to read her thoughts, Marchioness Fontpagneu gave a slight smile and turned away.

“I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

The noblewoman entering the hall with a soft farewell appeared no different than usual. Her manner was straightforward, without a trace of annoyance or sympathy.

Lyra watched the retreating back for a moment before releasing a held breath.

The Marchioness, though always smiling, had been reluctant to let Lyra near, keeping a firm wall between them throughout the ball. Whenever their eyes happened to meet, she would simply offer an enigmatic smile before turning away, as if Lyra were of no interest.

What did this dispassionate observer think of her? Could this brief conversation have moved the heart of a woman at the pinnacle of high society?

‘This is the last night.’

If she couldn’t turn the tide even today, her situation would remain the same going forward.

Taking a deep breath, Lyra stepped with heavy feet into the ballroom. Judging by the glances that briefly touched her before darting away, it seemed they were now intent on treating her as if she didn’t exist.

Her gaze naturally turned toward Davira Claudia. The faces of the chattering women all looked equally delighted. As was Davira Claudia, who smiled faintly upon seeing her.

Soon after, music announcing the start of the ball flowed through the room, and those who had been comfortably seated rose to the floor. Gentlemen requesting dances, ladies taking their hands with shy smiles.

If they had been a normal couple, perhaps she too would have taken the Duke’s hand and enjoyed the dance. But the reality?

Moistening her bitter mouth with her tongue, she walked toward the man watching her with cold eyes. Ever since he’d learned of the betting game she’d participated in, regardless of her intentions, he would occasionally give her such looks.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“…”

“I hope you remember our contract isn’t over yet.”

She could still feel the ache where he had grabbed her chin that time. Seeing his expression gradually soften for the benefit of onlookers, she walked beneath the chandelier’s brilliant light.

“Stay by my side tonight.”

That’s what he had said in the carriage earlier.

Likely he wanted to act the part of an affectionate lover on this final night, but perhaps due to a guilty conscience, it wasn’t easy to meet his eyes.

Of course, when he looked at her with such tender eyes as he did now, it was difficult in a different way.

As she steadied her trembling breath and was about to approach Kaylon, her steps halted at the sudden short scream that reached her ears.

‘…!’

Lyra gazed at the woman who rushed out the door, then met the piercing golden eyes.

She had been so startled by the moment that she failed to notice his gaze had been fixed solely on her from the beginning. With an opportunity that would never come again falling before her, it seemed she would have to disobey the Duke’s instruction to stay by his side.

Slightly lowering her head, Lyra didn’t see his subtly furrowing brow as she promptly headed toward the door where the woman had disappeared.

* * *

Cautious steps, yet eyes that met the gaze directly.

Between the efforts to appear composed, flickers of unstable turbulence betrayed themselves. 

He had barely managed to exercise patience with her slow approach, only for her attention to be diverted elsewhere, vanishing without a trace. As if the woman who was just a few steps away from being in his grasp had evaporated in an instant.

As unbearable irritation surged through him, his twisted feelings raised their head once again. Why was he so upset over that mere betting game?

Even though it was nothing more than women’s mischief, moreover something that had already been nullified, his agitation, once ignited, refused to settle.

Kaylon stared at the spot where she had been standing just moments ago, then turned his head. Toward another culprit testing his patience.

‘Cody Ferret.’

The way his eyes had been fixed on Lyra from the moment she entered the ballroom was quite grating. The way he drooled as if she were his possession, the thirsty gaze directed at something etched in his memory.

Something you could never understand unless you’ve tasted it yourself…

“Cody Ferret came running out of the forest. Although the young lady kept silent, so I let it go, she might have suffered some mistreatment. There were finger marks on her chin, like someone had pressed down hard.”

“Do you understand the implications of what you’re saying?”

“Come on, I’m not that clueless. Ahem! Anyway, I can understand the young lady’s feelings. No woman would be able to speak openly about such a frightening and shameful experience.”

“…”

“So what will you do now?”

In that moment, it was as if the thread holding his reason snapped, and the muscles in his jaw tensed.

‘I wonder. What would ease this feeling?’

Whispers of provocation continued to replay in his mind, and his searching gaze slowly scanned the surroundings. Finally making a decision, he quietly swallowed a twisted smile.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

As he turned after asking pardon from those conversing beside him, Count Kyle Bowler, who had been rattling on about important business matters related to oil drilling, hurriedly called out to stop him.

“Duke Lianton, where are you going? We’re just getting to the real point.”

Many were anxious to join the gathering that was meant for finding business partners. Nevertheless, Kaylon’s gaze remained fixed solely on Cody Ferret, as if he couldn’t hear Count Bowler’s words.

Kaylon continued walking. The even sound of his footsteps repeatedly disappeared beneath the laughter of people and the musical performance.

Finally, as his feigned leisurely steps brought him closer to the brown-haired man who had styled his hair excessively with pomade, he picked up a glass of red fruit wine from the tray of a passing servant.

Several scenarios rapidly formed in his mind. His loosely held glass angled as if it might rise at any moment.

His cold golden eyes slowly assessed the man whose back was turned to him, and the red liquid in the glass, which he twirled in his hand, swayed perilously close to the rim, threatening to spill.

The faces of the men who belatedly recognized his presence turned pale, and their eyes widened as if anticipating the impending disaster.

“D-Duke Lianton?”

Just as Kaylon’s lips curved up pleasingly, Cody Ferret, startled, turned around.

Thud!

“Ugh!”

“Ah…”

A small groan and a gasp flowed out in syncopation.

“Oh my.”