Chapter 74 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫
✦ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟕𝟒 ✦
❝𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫❞
⟪ 𝑰𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒑𝒂𝒘𝒏𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈’𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. ⟫
𓆩⟡𓆪───────𖤐───────𓆩⟡𓆪
Edward, who had been observing the scandalous turn of events with undisguised amusement, finally opened his mouth.
With a flick of his fingers, he ordered an attendant to prepare a stretcher.
Watching Laura Hatzfeld being carried away—disheveled, broken, and humiliated—was, in its own ironic way, almost comical. But wasn’t this simply… karma served cold?
Just as the whispers faded and the garden began to settle, a servant approached Edward, whispering something into his ear.
His expression shifted instantly—his former boredom vanishing like mist under the sun.
“We’d best return to the ballroom,” he announced, voice tinged with renewed interest. “It appears that one of my personal guests has arrived. Unfortunately, the reveal of Eden Blanc will be delayed a bit.”
Disappointment flickered in the eyes of the nobles, but none dared object. One by one, they turned and walked back toward the ballroom, their spines straight, pretending their anticipation hadn’t just been dashed.
Edward, clearly no longer interested in the theatrics, did not pull me aside. And so, with Johannes by my side, I returned indoors.
⋆｡°✩
As we walked silently together, shoulder to shoulder, I hesitated—then glanced up at him.
“…Did you do it on purpose? For my sake?”
He tilted his head slightly. “Do what, exactly? I’m not following.”
His tone was maddeningly nonchalant.
I narrowed my eyes. He was pretending. He knew very well what I meant.
“That overly sweet demeanor toward Lady Hatzfeld. That performance.”
He chuckled, almost imperceptibly. “Well, yes. I suppose. She likely mistook me for a flirt or a careless rake.”
I frowned.
“You could’ve told me.”
My voice came out quieter than I expected. The words were faint, almost petulant.
“My wife said she wasn’t jealous. But I rather liked how she looked when she was,” he said with a faint smile.
His voice held a warmth that stirred something fluttery in my chest.
It was the kind of remark that lovers exchange in the early glow of courtship—intimate, teasing, disarming.
The chill of the evening air brushed my skin, but all I could feel was the heat rising in my ears.
‘No. Johannes is kind to everyone. That’s all. Even to Lady Hatzfeld. It was… just kindness.’
And yet, my chest felt strangely tight. Was it anger? No—something softer. A tremble, a warmth, a tremor of something unspoken.
“…Thank you,” I murmured.
“It was nothing. I should’ve done this sooner.”
After that, silence settled between us. A silence not cold—but uncertain, almost fragile.
We stepped back into the grand ballroom.
⋆｡°✩
There, beside Edward, stood a woman with an air so austere it nearly withered the petals on display.
Old Mrs. Russell.
The wife of the late Marquis Russell. A relic of nobility, wrapped in velvet and pride.
Her eyes turned to me—and sharpened instantly.
“…Old Mrs. Russell?”
My voice cracked slightly. I hadn’t expected her here. Neither, it seemed, had Johannes.
Edward’s face curved into a mischievous smile as he motioned for us to approach.
Memories I’d buried resurfaced in a storm. That cold gaze. That disdain. That silence.
She’d never liked me. A commoner. An outsider.
‘She’ll ignore me again. I know it.’
My heart sank. Edward clearly knew the tension. And he had summoned her intentionally.
To amuse himself.
Johannes’s expression twisted in displeasure.
“…Will it be all right?” I whispered.
His eyes flicked toward me—still surprised. Still unreadable.
“There are too many eyes tonight. She can’t treat you the way she used to,” he murmured.
As we drew near, Edward’s voice rang out with false cheer.
“I’ve brought the venerable Mrs. Russell. It’s been so long since this old castle was opened—I thought she’d enjoy a return to Heibenstein.”
He then turned to Johannes and leaned in, lowering his voice so that only we could hear.
“You wanted her approval, didn’t you? Sorry to break your heart—but she’ll never side with a man who marries a commoner.”
Johannes didn’t reply. He couldn’t—not here.
Edward’s eyes glittered.
“She loathes noble blood diluted with plebeian sentiment. But I suppose you already knew that.”
Mrs. Russell’s gaze lingered on me, as bitter and icy as ever.
Edward turned to me again.
“You two seem to have things to discuss. Duchess, shall we take a stroll?”
His tone was mocking. He knew exactly what he was doing.
I frowned involuntarily, then turned to Johannes, signaling with a glance.
He gave a small nod. We both knew I had to go.
And so I walked alongside Edward—toward the balcony and into the wind.
⋆｡°✩
Leaning against the railing, he spoke first.
“I wonder… what was Johannes thinking, leaving his wife in enemy territory like this?”
“I think you already know the answer,” I replied coldly. “And I doubt you mean what you’re saying.”
This was all his doing—handing over his own unsolved mess and watching it unravel in public. Yet here he was, feigning innocence.
Edward laughed softly.
“Oh, Duchess. Did I ever tell those noble ladies to isolate you? Perhaps you’re just imagining things.”
“You’re very skilled at twisting the narrative.”
Talking to Edward always felt like walking through fog—nothing ever direct. Nothing ever truly spoken.
He shrugged. “Fine, I’m caught. So, tell me. How’s your relationship with our dear Duke? Rumor says it’s… fragile.”
“That’s ridiculous. Didn’t you see how things played out tonight?”
“I did. Which only proves my point. One should trust what they see—not what others whisper.”
Then, as if the conversation had grown too serious for his liking, Edward began talking nonsense. About trivial things. The garden. The weather.
The gardener.
“Frederick Müller?” I echoed, startled.
The name had slipped from him so naturally. I shouldn’t have reacted.
But I did.
Edward’s eyes lit up. For the first time, he looked genuinely surprised.
“You know Frederick?”
Cornered, I gave a vague summary of our brief encounter.
Edward’s expression deepened with curiosity.
“Are you saying Frederick responded to you?”
“…Yes. I spoke first. He didn’t approach me.”
“But still… Duchess, are you sure it was my gardener? Frederick Müller?”
He chuckled to himself, bewildered.
Then… silence.
He narrowed his eyes and muttered something to himself—something I couldn’t hear.
A memory sparked.
‘That’s right. He looked like this the last time… when I mentioned my father.’
Perhaps… it was a good thing I ended up alone with him after all.
“…Let’s stop talking about Mr. Müller. Isn’t there something more important to discuss?” I asked gently, locking eyes with him.
He turned, gaze sharp as a blade.
“…You mean your father? Sergeant Prim?”
𓆩⟡𓆪───────✦───────𓆩⟡𓆪
✦ 𝓔𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝟕𝟒 ✦
𓆩⟡𓆪───────✦───────𓆩⟡𓆪
