Where did the Vice Minister of Finance, who used to guard his side like a shadow every time he came to the capital, go, leaving him alone?

Kedilen rolled his eyes, scanning his surroundings, and clicked his tongue low at the maid’s gaze staring intently at him from the side.

He measured the distance to Aden with his eyes and then turned his gaze to the maid.

After confirming the name written on her nameplate, he waved his hand.

Kedilen, who had been following with his eyes the figure retreating with a sigh of relief, shifted his gaze to Aden, who had stopped at a distance.

Likewise, Aden, who had been following the maid’s back with his eyes, looked back at Kedilen when he heard the sound of deflating laughter.

“Was that your taste? Well, I must have forgotten that you’re a man too, Duke.”

Aden’s lips twisted smoothly at the worthless provocation.

Aden pulled and loosened the uncomfortable cuffs that he couldn’t fix no matter what, then shoved his hands into his pockets.

He stood askew on one leg and tilted his head crookedly.

Just then, the wind blew, and the torches on the stone platform flickered. A slanted sneer hung over his face, which held hot heat.

“Just because the Marquis lives like that doesn’t mean everyone in the world enjoys such things. Why don’t you keep such lewd hobbies to yourself?”

With a voice full of mockery, Aden narrowed the gap and lowered his eyes.

Kedilen bit his lip and stepped back, feeling the height difference as they got closer.

“Moreover, with such rumors of impropriety circulating, what would others think if you showed such behavior? Don’t you agree?”

Kedilen’s Adam’s apple bobbed after being thoroughly mocked, but he couldn’t easily open his mouth.

The man looking down at him leisurely seemed infinitely casual, but his eyes were as cold as someone half-mad.

Feeling the hostility directed at him in those eyes, Kedilen felt a chill down his spine.

As he closed his lips that had been moving and turned his head, he saw Benjamin entering the garden.

Kedilen’s eyes trembled finely at the sight of him entering in neat attire with his wife, the Countess Turval.

An ordinary scene that was nothing special.

As Kedilen caught his breath at that scene that was no longer nothing, Aden exchanged glances with Benjamin and swallowed his sneer.

“Take my words to heart, Marquis. Though I doubt your runaway wife will return even then.”

Aden lightly patted Kedilen’s shoulder and left after making a bone-crushing remark.

Kedilen glared at Aden, feeling as if he’d been hit with a hammer, but he was already far away.

Kedilen bit his lip hard and quietly spat out the curse lingering in his mouth as he picked up a glass and downed the alcohol unceremoniously.

The busy fountain pen gradually came to a stop.

As the sound faded, Ludmila silently stared at the letter in the ensuing stillness.

Beside her were crumpled papers strewn about, telling of how many times she had revised the letter’s contents.

Ludmila let out a small sigh and examined the letter for a long time before running her hand through her hair. The flowing hair tilted forward again, covering her forehead.

After maintaining silence until that process was over, Ludmila stood up and looked out the window.

The palace, which never went dark due to the eve of the festival, was clearly visible beyond the window of the annex.

Her eyes, searching for something as if drifting in the sea, rippled several times before her eyelids closed and disappeared.

With a small sigh, the red eyes that regained their light quietly gazed at the scenery encountered upon opening the window.

A smile seeped out as the cool wind cooled her head, hot from anguish. Ludmila leaned against the window frame.

It was once the object of hatred. It started there and finally ended. It was only natural to feel resentment.

But today, that place was incredibly beautiful. It was the first time that scenery felt beautiful.

Swallowing dry laughter several times in bewilderment. Finally captivated by the scenery and opening the window, Ludmila faced her own constriction.

She should have been there originally.

The scene of the eve of the hunting competition she participated in every year comes to mind.

There, Ludmila faithfully played the role of Kedilen’s wife, though unwelcome.

Without questioning why she should be there, she simply stood by Kedilen’s side as the Marchioness of the Erdi family.

If there had been no problem, she would have been there this year too.

The scene of wearing a glamorous dress and putting on a fake smile there was easily imagined.

Instead, she inserted Aden there.

The image of Aden calmly saying he had to participate in the hunting competition came to mind.

He finished speaking with a casual smile, ending with the words that the Crown Prince had proposed it.

Ludmila turned a blind eye to the truth underlying it.

Jeffrey, her half-brother, was the only means to move Aden.

The reins that could tame him, the wild horse of the Send Plateau, were ultimately herself.

Facing the truth she had tried to turn away from brought deep self-loathing.

Having given shackles to the wild horse of the peaceful prairie, could she again suppress its freedom by asking it to wait for her?

No matter how many times she asked, the answer didn’t change. At that cruel truth, Ludmila covered her eyes with her palm.

It was then that the odorless winter wind blew in.

The light from the oil lamp that had been dispelling the darkness in the room didn’t go out, but the letter she had been writing with a fountain pen just moments ago fluttered.

Ludmila quickly closed the window at the fluttering sound and turned around.

The letter, which had soared high to the ceiling, settled down helplessly like a kite that had lost its string when the wind was cut off.

Ludmila, who had been staring blankly at the paper fallen on the floor, slowly approached.

As she bent down to pick up the fallen letter, Ludmila smiled bitterly at the sentence that caught her eye.

Happiness, is it?

Not knowing what situation he would be in after she left this place, could she really talk about happiness?

Ludmila, who had scanned the letter with its sentence full of naive expectation, let out a long sigh lingering in her mouth.

With a rustling sound, the letter crumpled in her hand.

After putting it down to share the same fate as the other stationery on the desk, Ludmila once again picked up the fountain pen.

In the ridiculous situation where it was uncertain whether the letter would be completed faster or the ink would run out faster, she moved her hand again.

Undoubtedly, writing a farewell letter was the most difficult thing for her.

The middle-aged man sitting with a tense face took several deep breaths.

The man checked the expensive watch on his wrist several times while fiddling with his clothes.

As the appointed time approached, sweat even began to flow from his forehead.

Just as the heightened anxiety was about to engulf him at the rustling sound coming from the luxury sofa he was sitting on.

As if trying to alleviate his anxiety, Dexter, the editor-in-chief and owner of the Herborn Daily, rose from his seat.

He stood in front of the mirror on the wall to check his appearance.

The decorations surrounding the simple mirror were adorned with gold, as if to tell how great the room’s owner was.

Although he was quite wealthy himself, he couldn’t dream of such luxury.

It was then, as he was swallowing and tidying up his body, hair, and shoes for dust for a long time.

With a click, the door opened. Startled, Dexter quickly approached the room’s owner, the Crown Prince, who had entered through the open door.

“Sorry I’m late. You’re Editor-in-Chief Dexter, right?”

“I’m Manos Dexter. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.”

Dexter’s eyes slowly moved downward after he gave a plain greeting instead of the usual sun-something that nobles do.

The Crown Prince’s attire, dressed for attending the eve of the festival, indicated that their meeting wouldn’t be very long.

“Please sit.”

After a brief handshake, Jeffrey glided past him and tapped the chair.

Dexter, who had sat back down where he had been sitting just moments ago, fixed his gaze on Jeffrey, who stood by the window instead of sitting down.

Jeffrey, who had been taking in the festival lights visible through the window, smiled slightly and untied the curtain ribbon.

With a swish, the curtains closed and the lights disappeared, and only then did he turn around and slowly approach Dexter.

“Thank you for responding to my sudden call.”

“Ah, no. It’s fine.”

Dexter wiped the sweat from his palms onto his pants, seemingly nervous.

Jeffrey, who had been staring at that sight, smiled smoothly.

“I should offer you a cup of tea since I called you, but as you can see, I have to leave urgently. Please excuse my rudeness.”

“I understand, so don’t worry about it.”

Jeffrey nodded briefly and then took a seat in the chair opposite Dexter.

During the brief silence that followed, Dexter bit his lip and thought about why he had been called.

The reason politicians call journalists is usually because of articles, right?

Dexter had felt uneasy about Jeffrey’s summons, as he had tried to investigate if he had written anything related to the Crown Prince recently, but nothing significant had come up.

As the silence lengthened, Dexter’s uneasiness increased.

Tens of seconds felt like hours, and just then.

“There’s one thing I want to ask.”

Jeffrey’s voice popped out.

“You wrote an article exposing the true nature of Marquis Erdi in detail.”

Jeffrey brought together the tips of his outstretched fingers with a gentle smile.

“Where did you get that information? It doesn’t seem like something easily obtainable.”

“Ah, that…”

Dexter opened his mouth hurriedly with a surprised face at the unexpected question.

Jeffrey, who had been staring at him, leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.

“If I may dare to think, that information seems to have been given directly by the Marchioness. Is that correct?”

Dexter’s words were blocked by the blunt question that pierced his lungs.

Although Dexter made a few excuses, not realizing that his answer had already been given, Jeffrey’s ears didn’t hear his nonsense, as he had already heard the answer.

“Then I’ll ask just one more thing. The wife of Marquis Erdi…”

His eyes narrowed as he exhaled briefly.

After another silence passed and Dexter’s Adam’s apple bobbed several times, Jeffrey’s smile deepened.

“Where is my half-sister Ludmila, who has disappeared, now?”

The direct question and naked desire burst from his mouth, tearing through the silence.