No Evil Lady in the World (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 10

Cloff nodded exaggeratedly, as if he understood without needing to hear more, and patted Sediloi’s back encouragingly.

“His Majesty would probably develop a nervous disorder without you. Don’t you think so yourself?”

Sediloi glanced back at Cloff.

“You sometimes go too far with your words, Cloff. His Majesty is guiding state affairs more wisely than any previous king who has ruled El Bleuen.”

Cloff giggled lightly in a frivolous tone.

“Well, jokes clearly don’t land with you. That’s exactly why I like you. Shall we take a stroll through the summer garden, arm in arm with the man I adore?”

As soon as he said it, Cloff really did loop his arm playfully through Sediloi’s. His mischievousness, unusually strong since childhood, remained unchanged. Sediloi let out an exasperated chuckle but didn’t shake Cloff off, instead going along with his antics.

Cloff spoke again.

“Isn’t it tiresome traveling back and forth between your duchy and El Bleuen? You’re summoned every few days without fail. At this rate, you might as well get yourself a townhouse in the capital. Or has His Majesty not yet asked you to reside in the royal palace?”

Sediloi remained silent for a moment, lost in thought. Truth be told, Cloff was right. King Elmerat had long been subtly pressuring him to stay at the royal palace.

[Nobles who wish to stay in the palace for even a day or two are as numerous as stars. Some go to absurd lengths just to secure an attic room under the roof—Sediloi, do you really think I’d ask you to stay in such a place?]

Just a few days ago, King Elmerat had hinted as much, subtly yet unmistakably. From the king’s perspective, it was only natural—having an indispensable talent for governance so close at hand brought him great peace of mind.

Sediloi finally spoke.

“I understand what His Majesty desires, but for now, I have no intention of doing so.”

Cloff twitched his cheeks, clearly baffled, then suddenly jabbed Sediloi’s side as if struck by a thought.

“Is it because of your daughter?”

Sediloi’s gaze flickered briefly over Cloff’s profile.

“What about Ariante?”

“No, I mean—your insistence on staying in the duchy. Could it possibly be because of your daughter…?”

“That could be one reason.”

A look of frustration briefly crossed Cloff’s face. Sediloi noticed it but deliberately ignored it, pretending not to see.

“Sediloi, are you really going to leave Ariante as she is? Think about what lies ahead…”

Sediloi wrapped his arm tightly around Cloff’s shoulders—so tightly it nearly choked him—causing Cloff to let out a comical “Ack!”

“Look here, Cloff. Isn’t this the summer garden you’ve been so eager to see? The hydrangeas are blooming beautifully. Don’t you agree?”

“You really…! Fine, fine. What else can I possibly say?”

Stubborn as a mule, Cloff grumbled.

The garden, where summer flowers like hydrangeas bloomed splendidly, was filled with strolling visitors. Dresses made of gauzy fabric layered like pastry seemed to be this year’s fashion.

As several noblewomen passed by, Cloff remarked,

“Hmm, this year’s popular perfume is orange—along with peony, lotus, and even a hint of cocoa bean.”

Sediloi looked down at him with a faint smile.

“Are you a bloodhound?”

“Well, my lineage isn’t exactly pristine, is it?”

Cloff retorted with sarcasm, though Sediloi’s expression darkened.

“Can’t you stop belittling your own family like that?”

“Belittling? I’m merely stating facts. A perfumer who traded his wife for a meager title and instantly climbed the social ladder—that’s my grandfather, isn’t it? I’m just telling it as it is. And what’s the first virtue of a perfumer? An excellent sense of smell, of course.”

Sediloi frowned slightly but held his tongue, knowing Cloff’s nature well. He understood that engaging him further would only invite unnecessarily sharp remarks.

Cloff’s family had, in truth, been perfumers for generations. They first gained fame during his great-grandfather’s time, when a perfume blending honey, jasmine, and desert roses—found only in the western regions—swept through the capital city of El Bleuen.

That fragrance, named “Sweet Dream of the Desert,” became so wildly popular that it was said every noblewoman’s vanity, whether in the capital or the provinces, held at least one bottle.

However, his son—Cloff’s grandfather—failed to create another trend as powerful as his father’s.

More shrewd businessman than master craftsman, he excelled at charming the nobles who frequented his home with eloquent words, eventually securing an audience with the king to present a new creation.

Cloff, lightly brushing a delicate hydrangea petal with his finger, said,

“But that cunning old man brought his wife along to the royal audience. He must’ve known her beauty far exceeded what he deserved.”

Sediloi cleared his throat uncomfortably.

The king of that time fell for Cloff’s grandmother at first sight and took her as his mistress.

Though the affair stirred various complications, he swiftly silenced all public controversy—however superficially—by instantly elevating Cloff’s grandfather, who had been merely a perfumer, to the rank of marquis.

After a brief silence, Sediloi spoke.

“No matter how the title was obtained, haven’t both your father and you done your utmost for El Bleuen and His Majesty ever since? It’s all in the past—must you keep mocking yourself every chance you get just to feel better?”

Cloff’s shoulders bounced with the exaggerated mirth of a court jester.

“Of course I’ll do my best. Beyond the title, my love for His Majesty and El Bleuen is genuine. But Sediloi—you’re a truly good friend, yet you’ll never fully understand me. Never.”

Sediloi sighed.

“Yes, you’re right.”

Cloff chuckled and patted his back.

“What’s with that gloomy face again? Cheer up a bit. Look how many butterflies—so eager to watch your every move—are fluttering around you. If you’re going to be a flower, at least act a little more alluring.”

It was utterly absurd—but just as Cloff said, wherever Sediloi went, curious eyes clung to him persistently.

“Duke Valterminster.”

As Sediloi and Cloff were about to step between the low hedges, a delicate voice—like a lark trembling in the cold—caught their shoulders.

Sediloi turned to see a finely dressed young lady, yet greeted her only with an indifferent nod. She, however, showed no sign of being discouraged by his cool response.

“It’s been a while. Do you remember me?”

From beside him, Sediloi heard Cloff stifling a giggle—clearly meant for him to hear. Without the woman noticing, Sediloi stepped on Cloff’s foot and offered a faint smile.

“My apologies, but could you please tell me your name once more?”

The woman looked momentarily disappointed but quickly brightened, spreading her skirts gracefully in a curtsy.

“We met at the birthday celebration for Her Royal Highness the Second Princess, hosted by His Majesty. I’m Merilla Akarodi.”

“A pleasure, Miss Akarodi. What brings you to call for me?”

“Ah? Oh, it’s just that…”

Her face flushed with embarrassment. Sediloi, watching her flustered eyes with calm detachment, spoke.

“If it was merely to exchange greetings, then I apologize for the interruption. I hope you enjoy your stroll.”

“No, wait… Your Grace!”

Though her plaintive voice followed from behind, Sediloi deliberately pretended not to hear and walked on. Cloff, trailing after his briskly departing friend, finally let out a short, suppressed laugh once they reached the far side of a tall fir tree.

“Aren’t you being a bit too harsh?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play innocent. You know perfectly well what that young lady wants.”

“I really don’t.”

Sediloi exaggeratedly furrowed his brows and rolled his blue eyes. Cloff said,

“If you keep rejecting every woman who comes your way like this, you’ll end up dying alone in old age.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad.”

Cloff looked at him with a mixture of pity and exasperation.

“Are you truly never going to marry? Ariante needs a mother, if nothing else.”

“You meddle in everything. I’ll handle it myself.”

“That’s laughable. If there’s one thing you absolutely can’t do, it’s do something for your own sake.”

Sediloi gently stroked the vein of a shaded, trembling leaf. A faint, resigned smile briefly touched his lips before vanishing like mist under the summer sun.

Cloff spoke again.

“Sediloi, surely you’re not still holding onto that matter? Are you still blaming yourself for it all this time?”

Sediloi gave no reply—only looked at his friend with a bitter smile.

Cloff sighed in frustration.

“Let it go already. You’ve done enough. How much longer will you remain shackled to the past? As I’ve told you before, it only hurts you—and your daughter too.”

“Thank you for the advice, Cloff. It’s moments like these that remind me you’re a true friend.”

Cloff retorted as if telling him not to joke.

“There you go again—listening with one ear and letting it out the other. Fine, fine. Nagging won’t get through to you, and anger won’t make you listen. Consider yourself lucky you’re not my younger brother—if you were, I’d have beaten you black and blue until you came to your senses.”

Meiana hurried up the stairs, escaping the laundry maid’s storm of scolding, and headed straight for the kitchen—to fetch the “chocolate cake with seeds” that Ariante had wanted.

“There’s no such thing! The only snack made for the young lady today is a single carrot cake.”

The head cook’s reply was curt. Whatever had upset her, frustration and anger dripped from every word.

Meiana glanced around the spacious stone counter. She spotted the carrot cake on a plate, covered with a thin cloth. Though large, it looked unappetizing—plain cake with no sugar decoration or cream.

“You know the young lady doesn’t particularly like carrot cake. Since she actually asked for something specific today, couldn’t you just bake one? You always keep cake batter ready anyway.”

“Why should I? Whether I give her chocolate cake or cream cake, she’ll just throw a tantrum and flip it over again as soon as you take it. Just take that one. Don’t waste good batter.”

The cook’s face was beet-red from stirring soup stock for dinner. Watching her scowl and pout her plump cheeks, Meiana suddenly felt her temper flare.

“Regardless of the young lady’s status, isn’t it shameful to compete in willfulness with a seven-year-old child?”