Chapter 59. A Dangerous Invitation

2023.11.28.

Eddie Rev, clearly having rushed here in haste, wore an expression heavy with anxiety beneath his solemn demeanor.

It was because of the report that had arrived yesterday.

The news was that Prince Bollo Nico of Volonico had visited the Marquis Rev’s family graveyard.

“Volonico?”

“And I heard your wife returned home later than usual yesterday. Isn’t that right?”

“What exactly are you trying to say?”

Clade’s face twisted with displeasure.

“So Prince Bollo Nico suddenly visited the Marquis’s graveyard, and Yuan was there too. But why does it seem to me that you’re more suspicious than worried?”

“They were seen talking in front of Louise Pelliese’s gravestone. It didn’t look like a simple greeting. And besides, no matter what they did in between, the trip should’ve taken no more than two or three hours at most—but she only returned after sunset? Isn’t that blatantly suspicious?”

“She was feeling dizzy, apparently. Her complexion wasn’t good all day yesterday.”

“That excuse could be used by anyone. I’ve just come back from questioning the coachman. While resting with the carriage stationed within the Marquis’s estate, your wife boarded it, and then unknown people drove it suddenly into the woods!”

“What?”

Clade’s expression turned significantly darker than when he’d first heard about Bollo Nico.

Eddie Rev, now seeing some understanding in Clade’s eyes, continued.

“We hurried after them, but by then those men had already fled. My wife insisted we not make a big fuss about it—”

“You’re telling me your household staff witnessed the attempted abduction of your lady and didn’t report it to me?”

Eddie froze mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open.

He couldn’t comprehend why Clade was fixated on that detail when his wife’s situation was clearly suspicious.

“What are you talking about now?”

“They’re in cahoots—your staff and your wife—keeping silent from me. To me, this sounds dangerous. Yuan meeting Bollo Nico. Someone abducting the carriage. All of it.”

“It’s you who’s in danger, Clade!”

Eddie shouted in frustration.

“Where is your wife right now? Every morning she heads beyond those woods toward the chapel. She claims to be praying, but she always disappears toward the graveyard, and shortly after, strange noises are heard.”

Clade’s face instantly darkened with displeasure. His sharp eyes pierced into Eddie Rev’s.

“Did you send someone to follow her?”

“They said Lancelot ordered someone to check if there were any discomforts. Did they think we were spying on her?”

“You did send someone.”

“Clade!”

Eddie shook his head in disbelief.

He harbored not even a speck of personal feeling toward Clade’s ninth bride.

But for him and the Rev brothers, their sole priority was Clade Euphris—their wounded pride.

Clade straightened his back stiffly and rhythmically tapped his long fingers against the table.

Eddie, staring intently at him, abruptly pulled out a hidden truth he’d been holding back.

“Igor Euphris. Because of that damned Emperor, countless people have died.”

The day when the late Emperor Alexei was severely injured. Most of the late Emperor’s closest aides who attended the hunting festival were gravely wounded or killed.

The day when Igor, the current Emperor, brought northern troops into the capital under the pretext of suppressing a sudden rebellion and protecting Prince Clade Euphris.

Countless deaths had been buried since then.

Even now, ten years after Igor became Emperor, the shadow of those deaths still loomed over the Rev brothers, plunging them into deep dread whenever they tried to forget.

If the Marquis Rev hadn’t been by Clade’s side that day, the Rev brothers would have lost their father too.

“You can’t even bear to see a single insignificant creature die in this mansion.”

“……”

“But me, Clade Euphris—I could let everyone in this mansion die, as long as I could save you.”

It was an unusually cold statement for someone who had long interacted with the staff and grown familiar with them.

But Eddie meant every word.

The unfortunate ex-Prince Clade was the one the anti-Emperor faction, who bowed under Igor’s tyranny, protected with their entire hearts.

The treasure of the Euphris family.

The hope of the Euphris family.

To Eddie, as to Lancelot, Clade was no different from a blood brother—a beloved friend above all.

No trace of danger, no matter how small, could be allowed near him. Until now, Clade had guarded himself well—but now…

Eddie Rev glared at the book standing out at the edge of a desk piled high with documents.

The collection of medical essays Clade had personally requested Lancelot to retrieve from the Marquis’s estate.

There was no way Eddie couldn’t guess for whom that book was intended.

“I don’t want to suspect your wife either. I admit—yes, I admit—that most of the credit for rousing you and making you work so hard belongs to her. Damn it.”

“……”

“But to me, anyone connected even slightly to the Imperial family being near you is driving me mad with anxiety.”

“I’m neither a fool nor a child. If anything suspicious happened, I’d be the first to notice. You know me, Eddie Rev.”

“I hope so. I pray it’s just my misunderstanding. If your wife is innocent, this will resolve itself naturally.”

“……”

“If my expression bothers you, I’ll refrain from voicing suspicion outright. But I can’t help watching from a distance. So until it’s certain this is all just a misunderstanding, please exercise caution.”

“Caution.”

“I mean, don’t give your heart away.”

Clade shook his head as if he’d just heard something utterly out of character, then let out a dry chuckle.

“Who was it who said, ‘If you can’t treat her well at night, at least treat her well during the day’? I think it was your younger brother who said something like that.”

“Who said I won’t treat her well? I said don’t give your heart. Your heart.”

Eddie’s straight index finger pressed firmly—once, then again—against Clade’s chest.

“That vow you made—never to love anyone. That confession—that you can’t love anyone. That admission that since you can’t love, you’ll at least treat them well, as you once told Father. Don’t ever change that.”

***

Eddie Rev passed by Yuan, who had just returned to the mansion with a brief nod of greeting.

Though there was something slightly cold in his gaze, Yuan, who had spent the entire day anxiously wondering whether her nose would suddenly start bleeding or she might collapse without warning, had no mental space to dwell on it.

Unaware of Yuan’s unease, the maids chattered daily with Michel, the tailor who now came to the mansion like clockwork.

Yuan stood motionless, wearing the dress Michel had nearly completed, like a mannequin placed in the parlor.

The dress, revealing her long neck and delicate shoulders, flowed calmly along her soft silhouette.

Adorned with a large organza ribbon at the chest to eliminate plainness, it faithfully followed the modest yet sparkling design typical of debutante gowns.

Yuan watched in the full-length mirror as the maids adjusted a set of pearl earrings and necklace, and finally placed a small pearl tiara on her head, turning her this way and that.

The peach-colored blush Monica had gently applied glowed with life under the sunlight.

‘You’ll die soon too.’

I won’t die.

The Yuan reflected in the mirror, though petite, was undeniably young, healthy, and beautiful to anyone’s eyes.

Yuan believed that while others might be fooled, she must never fall for her uncle’s bluster and lies.

Her uncle was nothing but a quack who exploited people’s fears to sell the medicine she created, boasting that he could diagnose patients’ suffering merely through examination—when in truth, he had no such skill.

It would be the same this time.

Because of the Pelliese family business, which would undoubtedly lose its reputation once Yuan left.

He was a hypocrite pretending to care for her only because he missed having her around.

Nothing but a fat hyena trying to trap her under the name of family.

‘You’ll die soon too.’

Yuan rapidly shook her head, dispelling the floating sentence in her mind.

I won’t be fooled. Never.

‘I will absolutely not go back.’

Just then, noisy footsteps came from outside, followed by the parlor door swinging open with a loud bang.

Everyone’s startled, wide-eyed gazes turned toward the door.

Standing there, breathless, was Gustav, the butler, who was usually so composed.

In his wrinkled hand was a golden envelope sealed with purple wax.

Stamped on the wax was the emblem of a wolf’s face.

It was from the Imperial household.

A sinking sensation gripped Yuan’s heart as she took a trembling step forward.

The moment she stood before the pale-faced butler, a hand abruptly shot between them and snatched the envelope.

“Invitation to the Imperial Palace debutante ball. The sender is… Bollo Nico Euphris?”

It was Clade.

His voice, low and resonant in the parlor, was followed by the excited reactions of the tailors and Michel.

Leaving behind the thrilled voices of the others, Yuan looked up at Clade, who stood by the parlor door, slowly scanning the invitation.

Then, without a word, he extended the invitation toward her.

Yuan stared at it without taking it, then slowly looked back up at him.

She didn’t want to touch anything related to Bollo Nico.

“They’re inviting you to the debutante ball at the Imperial Palace. It overlaps with the date of the one held at the Marquis’s estate.”

Clade said as he stepped into the parlor.

Michel, the tailor who had been stuck in the northwest and unable to fully showcase her skills, blushed deeply as she gaped at the mansion’s master.

“T-The Imperial Palace!”

The tailor’s excitement quickly spread like wildfire to those around her.

The tailoring staff immediately began discussing plans, as if skipping the Imperial Palace debutante ball wasn’t even an option.

Only the butler and maids hesitated, waiting for the ex-Prince couple’s reaction.

Clade leaned casually against the window frame on one side of the parlor, still holding the invitation.

Finally, unable to endure the silence any longer, Butler Gustav spoke first, his usual composure fraying.

“If the Imperial Palace has personally invited you to the debutante ball, refusing and going to the Marquis’s estate instead will certainly not end well. Unless you claim poor health and decline every event…”

His worried voice drifted into the quiet space between the couple.

It was the tailors and Michel, standing at a distance, who reacted first.

Michel’s normally cheerful face suddenly sharpened like a finely honed blade.

“Refuse? What do you mean, refuse?”