As the low, cave-like voice reached her ears, a majestic sound of waves suddenly echoed from somewhere.

The sea? That can’t be.

She felt the lapping of water at her ankles as if walking along a wave-swept beach, and the sound of waves flooding her ears grew even louder.

A chill ran down her spine. Although she didn’t know whose voice it was, it was clear they were speaking to her.

Find what? As she inwardly asked back, trembling with a vague fear, the strange voice answered again.

That was the last of it. The crashing waves became so rough she could tell just by the sound, and soon a splitting tinnitus pierced her head.

In that moment, Merche awoke.

How long had she been lying there unconscious? By the time Merche woke up, the castle was already bustling with preparations for a banquet to welcome guests.

“They’re here to see the successor announcement. Yesterday, even the notorious closed-off candidate from Venenum came, I tell you.”

“Did you see him?”

“Only from a distance. He had very dark green hair and bright yellow eyes, and just looking at him gave me the creeps.”

Karin chattered noisily, deliberately, as she applied perfumed oil to Merche’s hair and combed it.

Ever since Merche had fallen gravely ill and barely recovered, Karin teared up at the mere sight of her.

Even now, she was probably swallowing back her tears as her stubbornly downcast eyes hovered somewhere around the hem of Merche’s skirt.

Then suddenly, Karin stopped and asked, trembling her eyelids, unable to hold back.

“…Miss. You’ve barely woken up, do you really have to attend the banquet?”

“The lord has commanded it. I must duly obey his orders.”

“That’s really too much for the lord to ask! We still don’t even know who… who did such a terrible thing to you with that poison, and he’s making you attend the banquet just to babysit the young master. Does that make any sense?!”

In the end, Merche comforted the weeping Karin.

It’s alright. I’m fine, don’t cry. At her unchangingly warm consolation, the crying grew twice as loud rather than quieting.

Embracing Karin, who was bawling with reddened eyes, Merche fell into silent thought.

Poisoning. The doctors said the reason she had collapsed that day, bleeding, was poisoning.

Who had fed her the poison?

-There is a man named Torben Carney, the lord’s brother.

After considering many possibilities, she recalled that voice.

The endlessly trembling voice of Mrs. Martin.

Torben Carney. The very man who had kidnapped Rude and abandoned him in a back alley, holding the greatest grudge against Genovefa.

For some reason, although she didn’t know why, she had a vague conviction that he was the culprit.

She had found Rude, whom Torben had desperately cast out, and brought him back to Lupinus Castle.

Perhaps that was why Torben wanted to kill Merche, who had done so?

“…Karin.”

“Hic. Yes, miss.”

“Is the lord still refusing my request for a private audience?”

“Yes… I went and asked him to convey your message again today, but he said he’s too busy with work.”

She had to tell him that Torben might try to harm Rude.

At least Genovefa needed to know that fact, but for days now, Genovefa had refused to see Merche.

What should she do? Repeatedly stroking Karin’s shoulders, Merche blinked.

-It’s yours.

-Don’t throw it away. Even if it rots and decays, keep it.

-……Merche. Don’t throw it away.

Although she had no choice but to return the laurel wreath Rude had gifted her, she wanted to prevent the misfortune that would inevitably befall his life, which had known only misfortune thus far, at least once.

Even if he had recently been harshly tormenting her with malice. That was no reason to turn a blind eye to harm befalling Rude.

Even if Rude bore ill will towards her, Merche bore no ill will towards Rude.

And that was all there was to it. Her desire to prevent his foreseen misfortune ended purely with that.

Before Merche could even depart for the banquet hall, Rude came to find her first.

Dressed in a luxurious, form-fitting formal attire that revealed the lines of his body, even a brief glance showed he looked like a noble aristocrat.

With a slightly haggard impression compared to before, Rude silently looked Merche up and down from head to toe.

“Well. At least it doesn’t seem like you’ll suddenly collapse bleeding like last time.”

“I apologize for not being able to finish the lesson that day, although it’s too late now.”

“Apologizing over every little thing. I’m sick and tired of you just saying sorry all the time now, Merche.”

“I will endeavor not to cause trouble as I did in the past, so please, I beg your generous forgiveness this once.”

“Enough. Don’t bring up that day anymore. I don’t even want to think about it.”

He held out his hand.

“Enter together with me when we enter the banquet hall.”

“…That cannot be. The lord has instructed me to enter before you, Rude.”

“I know, but I don’t want to go in holding hands with someone else, so just do as I say. It’s customary to have a partner each anyway.”

Partners are for official lovers or married couples, Merche indirectly refused again, expressing her rejection.

Then Rude let out an icy sneer and glared at her with his violet eyes that looked bluish for a moment.

“Why. You threw away my laurel wreath, and now you don’t even want to give me your hand?”

“……Rude.”

“Don’t provoke my foul temper any further and just put your hand up. Unless you want me to throw another fit in the banquet hall.”

Though he sneered with a sharp edge, Merche could tell.

She could tell he was deeply hurt by her returning the laurel wreath.

With no choice, she placed her hand on top of Rude’s. As if he had been waiting, his fingers tightly grasped her small hand without any gaps.

It felt suffocating, as if she had been handcuffed rather than holding hands.

As Rude escorted Merche into the banquet hall, those who had been laughing and chatting amongst themselves suddenly fell silent and stared at them.

Accustomed to this pressure, Merche was unperturbed, and Rude, who had no fear to begin with, paid no heed to the eyes that flocked to them.

“Rude. My son.”

Genovefa approached, arm in arm with Elizabeth.

He glanced at Merche in passing, then smiled amiably and spoke.

“There is someone I want to introduce to you. A connection that may be of help to you as well. Here, this is Karla, the successor candidate of Venenum.”

“Hello. I’m delighted to meet you like this, Lord Rude.”

From behind Genovefa and Elizabeth, a woman with deep green hair fluttering and thin eyes curved in a smile stepped out.

“My name is Karla Venenum. Originally, there was no need for me to come this early, but I hastened my steps especially this time. Just to see you a little sooner, Lord Rude.”

“……I am Rude Lupinus. You must be quite diligent, going out of your way to hurry your steps.”

How unnecessarily troublesome. Rude roughly reciprocated the greeting and swallowed his following words.

“Then, Lord Rude. If it’s not too presumptuous, may I request a dance?”

Karla grinned brightly, her eyes twinkling.

Her face brimming with confidence showed no hint of the thought that she might be refused, only bright anticipation overflowing.

However, no matter how much time passed, her partner did not extend his hand. Normally, he should have already said “certainly” and led her to the center of the hall by now.

As the corners of Karla’s mouth gradually crumbled, Rude tilted his head slightly and spoke.

“It seems you don’t see it. The partner standing right next to me.”

“…Pardon?”

“Here, the partner I escorted. Even if we dance, it would be proper etiquette to dance with my partner, wouldn’t it?”

She had never faced such a rude rejection before.

Karla trembled her lips with a flushed face and then nervously turned her eyes, finally seeing Merche.

“Gasp…!”

Oh, what a blunder. What a mistake to make! She hurriedly covered her mouth, but the flustered exclamation had already slipped out.

Karla furrowed her brow and tightly grasped the edge of her sleeve.

Why was such misfortune continuously befalling only her at this banquet!

At the banquet she had rushed to attend, she was rudely treated by the very protagonist from the start, and even encountered a terrifyingly beautiful woman she had never seen before in her life.

As if the gods Nilam and Nisha had suddenly poured down their blessings, the woman before her eyes was beautiful.

If her relatives in the family had seen her, they would probably already be drooling down to their chins.

As the startled Karla took a step back and stiffened, Genovefa, who had been watching with a smile, intervened again.

With a smiling face, he glared coldly at his son and skillfully brought up words to mediate between Karla and Rude.

“Oh my. It seems my son has offended you out of immaturity. That child is a distant relative of the family I took in. She merely acted as an escort and is not my son’s partner. Isn’t that right, Rude?”

If he didn’t agree, it seemed Genovefa would grab his neck and force him to nod, even by pressing down on it.

When Genovefa even glanced at Merche, Rude, with fire in his eyes, glared back at his father and slowly nodded.

“……Yes. I was ignorant and committed a discourtesy.”

What discourtesy? Karla avoided Rude’s eyes in fright.

He looked as if he would devour her with his gaze.

But Rude finally extended his hand. In a tone that was not at all pleased, he asked Karla to dance.

“Shall we go?”

“…Pardon? Go where?”

“Didn’t you request a dance? I’m saying let’s go have that dance, what else would it be?”

“……On second thought, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Then think again, or put your hand up here.”

It was practically a threat, albeit without cursing.

As the cowed Karla forcibly placed her hand, Rude grabbed that hand as if pulling and walked to the center of the hall.