It was a rather aggressive statement to make towards one’s mother. The Duke, who had been silently observing the conversation between the Duchess and their son until now, set down his cutlery with a slight noise.

“Ricardo.”

“Yes, father.”

“Your mother did what any mother would naturally do.”

“You mean putting me in an ill-fitting dress and sending me alone into a vulgar banquet hall?”

The Duke’s face visibly hardened, but he just stared at Ricardo without saying a word.

My heart sank as I realized that his gaze held not anger, but loneliness. The candles on the table flickered precariously in the silence that followed, filled only with the sound of breathing.

As I poked at my food with my fork, I quietly called out to Ricardo.

“Young master.”

Thinking that no matter how much I loved you, I couldn’t take your side this time. It seemed clear that he was the notorious villain at this table.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’d like to clear it up.”

His cold gaze slowly turned towards me. I took a deep breath and carefully chose my words.

“I didn’t go to that banquet alone. Countess Korhena accompanied me. The reason I was alone when you saw me was that the Countess had briefly left my side to look for you.”

Fortunately, the seemingly irredeemable villain didn’t add anything to my calm explanation.

“It was also me who begged to go, not knowing how vulgar the banquet might be.”

As the Duchess tried to explain that it wasn’t him, the Duke gently held her arm to stop her.

“And this is the part you’ve misunderstood the most.”

Ricardo’s long eyes narrowed slightly, but otherwise his expression remained unchanged. To avoid being intimidated by his indifferent gaze, I straightened my back and squared my shoulders.

Then, meeting his eyes directly, I smiled. Trying to convey a silent pressure for him to close that hellfire mouth of his.

“That dress actually suited me very well.”

“…”

“Angela said so, and so did everyone else.”

Ricardo’s brow furrowed slightly.

“Who is Angela?”

“My maid.”

From across the table came a muffled sound of the Duke trying to suppress his laughter, but I raised my chin a little higher and spoke in the most ladylike manner I could muster.

“So from now on, I’ll take care of my own affairs. As you said, I’ll choose my own dresses, reflecting my own wishes.”

The notorious villain of the table, thankfully, didn’t add anything more while looking at me with an indescribably cold expression.

The meal continued quietly after that.

As the time passed when even the water in the glasses was tinted with the soft sunset light, the room grew a little darker. This made the soft lighting illuminating the table shine even brighter.

The deep red that covered the sky, as if painted with watercolors, reminded us that today was coming to a complete end.

Of course, that warm and gentle atmosphere did little to help this already frozen table.

As the meal was almost over, a cake topped with plenty of figs appeared as dessert. Ricardo’s forehead wrinkled slightly at the sight of it.

Sure enough, as soon as the dessert arrived, he subtly pushed his cake plate towards me. Though it was likely just because he didn’t want it in front of him, I sighed deeply and pulled the cake closer to me, then began to pick off the figs on top.

It was a kind of habit, as I later realized.

During my time at Count Pennel’s house, figs were not a common fruit. They were difficult to store, so we usually only ate dried ones occasionally.

On the rare occasions when we could eat fresh figs, Ricardo would give them to me. I liked them, and he didn’t.

Suddenly, as I was picking figs from the Duke of Rochester’s plate, I made eye contact with the Duchess.

There was an awkward silence for a moment. However, the Duke and Ricardo, seemingly unaware of the situation, pulled the fig-less cake towards themselves as if it were natural. I laughed awkwardly at their strikingly similar actions.

“Your tastes seem quite similar, Your Grace and young master. The young master doesn’t eat figs. He says they taste fishy.”

“…”

“Figs tasting fishy? How does that make sense? Ah, haha.”

I spoke and laughed to myself as if I’d made an amusing joke, then buried my face in my plate again.

“…What else?”

But the low voice that reached my ears made me look up involuntarily. The owner of that voice was none other than the Duke of Rochester.

“Pardon?”

“What else does he dislike?”

He was asking me with a genuinely curious face, having not spared a glance at Ricardo until now. What else does my son dislike, he was asking.

Though his attitude seemed casual, I could read the affection in his eyes.

In fact, I had completely ruled out the possibility that the Duke and Duchess had deliberately abandoned Ricardo in the duchy some time ago. Their eyes were not those of those who abandoned, but those who were abandoned. It didn’t make sense that I, who had been constantly abandoned in my childhood, wouldn’t know that.

I glanced at him, but he didn’t seem to be paying particular attention to what I was doing, so I carefully recalled his childhood.

‘What did Ricardo like?’

The answer came surprisingly easily, without needing to search my memories for long. After all, no one would know his childhood better than I did.

“He preferred gloomy weather to bright sunny days. That’s quite strange, isn’t it? Lesotia is generally cloudy. It’s a desert region, but that was a thousand years ago.”

Although no one responded, I could tell that for the first time, a proper conversation was taking place at this table. The Duke and Duchess were waiting for my next words with shining eyes.

“It only rains a lot in Lesotia for one month. During that time, the young master never stayed in his room. He would sit in front of the largest window on the first floor of the east wing, that is, the building where he stayed, and draw pictures.”

“Drawing…”

They wore the faces of ordinary parents hearing about their son for the first time.

With flushed expressions, like parents watching their first child take its first steps, they shared in the story of their son’s childhood that they had never heard from anyone before. A story from the past that even the person himself might not remember.

“He didn’t like fruits much. Especially grapes. But he did eat slightly unripe apples that were quite sour. It would have been good if he ate other things too, but he was so stubborn.”

The Duchess, who had widened her eyes in surprise, soon let out a slightly hollow laugh.

“I see. Figs, grapes, I always try to persuade him, but he never listens. The Duke as well.”

“Ah… that’s similar too.”

Just talking about it made me salivate, remembering the image of Ricardo eating apples.

Swallowing my saliva and moistening my lips, I continued carefully. Recalling our difficult childhood had been taboo for me as well. I chose my words carefully, as if searching for a whole apple among rotten ones.

“He preferred sitting in his room reading books to going out and being physically active. He mostly read history books. War history books, to be precise. Even when he did come outside, he would just watch me and my siblings play with slightly arrogant eyes.”

“…”

“But on the day he first picked up a sword, he defeated the family knight in just their second bout. And that was with one arm injured, putting him at a disadvantage.”

The Duke let out an impressed “Oh” as if truly amazed.

“In just two bouts?”

“Yes, and with his left hand at that.”

I extended my hand holding the knife and tilted my head slightly upwards, just as Ricardo had done back then. It was perhaps a bit frivolous for a formal dinner, but I thought what the Duke and Duchess wanted from me wasn’t the proper demeanor of a fine lady.

“At that time, he waved the wooden sword in front of me and said, ‘I’m ambidextrous. Does being ambidextrous need a reason?'”

I continued the story, clumsily imitating his childhood voice.

“Ha, that’s exactly how he is now.”

This time, the Duchess replied, glancing slightly at Ricardo.

“Yes, that’s why Harold, who was Ricardo’s opponent, was really surprised.”

“Harold?”

Ricardo, who had been silent until now, turned his head and smiled an indecipherable smile.

“Was he… a knight of the Pennel family? That Harold?”

“Ah, yes…”

“A knight, you say.”

“That’s right.”

The Duke and Duchess, who had been eagerly listening to the story until now, looked back and forth between Ricardo and me like audience members at a play. Ricardo, seemingly indifferent to their gaze, slowly spoke.

“But how are you still in touch with that knight?”

He leaned back leisurely, looking as if he had no intention of ending the conversation easily.

“Or is it not? Is it that the feelings from back then still linger, echoing inside you? So desperately.”

“It’s, it’s not like that.”

“No?”