The Runaway Female Lead Doesn't Run Away - Chapter 22

“Your Grace. Where shall I take you?”

Clayton leaned back against the seat and replied to the coachman’s question.

“To Cavern House.”

“Yes, sir.”

Cavern House was a place created by influential aristocratic men, not a gathering that just any nobleman could join.

Among those who gathered there, Clayton was the highest-ranking after the royal family, but his attendance rate was low.

Normally, he wouldn’t have even thought of attending today’s meeting. But he felt he’d go mad if he stayed in the mansion any longer, so he decided to go out for some fresh air.

Clayton shifted his gaze from the window to his right hand.

He felt guilty about swatting away Dalia’s hand earlier at the mansion.

‘Why on earth…’

Of all days, when he was on edge from a nightmare, in that forest, and with a cat of all things.

Tsk.

He clicked his tongue irritably. He couldn’t understand the cause of the annoyance welling up inside him.

The image of Dalia smiling while holding a cat in the forest flashed in his mind.

And then, her image morphed into his younger self.

Twelve years old.

Himself, holding an orphaned kitten.

He couldn’t forget that naive time when he arrogantly thought he alone could overcome the curse.

‘I don’t have a mother either, just like you.’

He was delighted when he accidentally found a stray cat that had lost its mother while playing in the forest.

Having no family to rely on or friends to confide in, he felt a strange sense of kinship with the lonely cat.

He secretly raised the cat in the forest, avoiding his father’s eyes, knowing he would obviously object.

He secretly brought food from his own meals to feed the cat, and the cat, lonely like him, followed him well.

From then on, Clayton always spent time with the cat after his lessons.

Although it was just an animal, to him it was family and more than a friend. But he didn’t know then.

That he would destroy something he cherished so much with his own hands.

After his stepmother’s death. He refused to drink blood, determined to overcome the curse.

I’m different from my father. I won’t drink my wife’s blood like my father, or the blood of the Hertz family daughters offered like sacrifices, he vowed.

But he didn’t know then. That it was his own arrogance.

The ducal family’s curse was terribly strong, and the child was too naive.

And when he realized this fact, what was in his hands was the carcass of an animal, torn beyond recognition.

The hunger that threatened to make him lose his mind came suddenly, and when he regained his senses, everything was over.

What he had cherished and vowed to protect had died by his own hands, and that day he became a monster.

At first, he was devastated and despaired at the fact that he too had become a monster, but soon he resigned himself.

He drank the blood provided by the family and the blood of the Hertz family women.

While engaging in the behavior he extremely loathed and despised, he made a decision. To end the Sayer family curse by his own hands.

That resolve remained unchanged, and everything was proceeding according to plan.

Except for one thing.

‘Dalia…’

Dalia. Except for that one person.

As he was lost in thought for a while, the carriage gradually slowed down and then came to a stop.

Along with the coachman’s voice announcing their arrival, the closed door opened.

Then, a building bearing the traces of time and boasting a long history came into view.

Cavern House, located in the center of the capital, was ostensibly a place for political gatherings for the future of the empire, but in reality, it was one of the entertainment venues for men from powerful families.

With works by famous artists whose names everyone would recognize lining the walls, and expensive carpets from the Eastern Continent covering the entire floor, it was the epitome of luxury.

Clayton, who had just entered Cavern House, walked down the spacious corridor.

With each step he took, a rhythmic sound echoed quietly through the corridor.

And just as he was about to place his hand on the doorknob to open the door to the room where people would be gathered.

Through the slightly open door that someone had forgotten to close, a familiar name was heard.

“I think her name was Dalia. The woman who recently became the Duchess of Sayer. She’s an extraordinary beauty. Why haven’t we noticed her before?”

It was his wife, Dalia.

The men inside, unaware that her husband was listening outside the door, began to chatter excitedly.

“I’ve seen her a few times at parties before. Thanks to her wearing dresses that looked like they were in fashion a decade ago and being crumpled up in a corner, she had no presence. Who would have paid attention to a woman from a failing family?”

“Unlike us insignificant ones, our extraordinary Duke Sayer did pay attention, didn’t he?”

As someone spoke in a sarcastic voice, everyone burst into mocking laughter.

It was amusing to see these people, who couldn’t say a word to his face, talking so loudly behind his back.

Clayton, twisting the corner of his mouth, was about to turn the doorknob to enter when.

“More than that, have you heard that story? About the black carriage frequenting the Duke’s mansion.”

He stopped what he was doing at the next part of the conversation.

“It was a hot topic at the Marquis Landrofil’s party last time. But I heard a rumor that the owner of that carriage is a woman…”

“Jackson. Are you saying the Duke has a mistress? Didn’t you say there was a widespread rumor at the Landrofil’s that the Duke was devoted to his wife?”

“You naive fool. Being affectionate to one’s wife and having a mistress are obviously separate matters. What man in the world could be satisfied with just one woman? Especially a man like Duke Sayer. It wouldn’t be strange if he had ten mistresses.”

“True. I’ve occasionally heard people say they’ve seen him with the young lady from the Hertz family.”

The conversation that started with Dalia had now shifted to rumors about Clayton and noble young ladies.

“If you’re talking about the Hertz Count’s daughter, I’ve heard about that. Doesn’t everyone who knows, know? That Rose Hertz is Duke Sayer’s mistress.”

“Lucky bastard. He’s got flowers in both hands, doesn’t he?”

“Is there a law that says only the Duke can have that? For all we know, the Duchess might have branches in both her hands too.”

As the conversation went back and forth, the level of the words gradually became more intense, eventually crossing the line.

“Then why don’t I put something of mine in one of the Duchess’s hands…”

Just as the level of lewd talk about Dalia was escalating.

Suddenly, the door flung open, drawing everyone’s attention.

The men’s faces hardened as they saw Clayton, who had opened the door and appeared.

“Du-Duke Sayer…!”

“…”

The men who had been lounging comfortably on the sofas, putting on airs, jumped to their feet.

Clayton coldly surveyed the faces of the men, who looked as if they had seen a ghost, and naturally took the empty seat at the head of the table.

As he sat down, one of the men who had been eyeing each other nervously gathered the courage to speak.

“We-we didn’t know you were coming, Your Grace. It would have been nice if you had given us some notice.”

“It seems my presence is inconvenient for you.”

“In-inconvenient? Not at all! I just meant that if we had known Your Grace was coming, we would have gone out to greet you.”

The audacity with which they had been enthusiastically gossiping about Clayton just moments ago was nowhere to be seen; now they looked no different from herbivores facing a carnivore.

Clayton, picking up a cigar and cigar cutter from the table, glanced at Jackson, who was fidgeting and watching him nervously.

“I wonder if you’re curious about what I heard?”

“…Pardon?”

“Where did it start? Was it when our eldest son of the Devon Count’s family said he would put something in my wife’s hand?”

Snap.

At the same time, Clayton cut off the end of the cigar with the cutter.

The fallen piece of cigar felt chillingly like a piece of his own flesh.

“Ah. No, it was when the second son of the Riksha Marquis’s family said I had a mistress.”

Finally, Clayton put the cigar in his mouth, lit it, and took a deep breath.

Then, leaning back more comfortably on the sofa, he exhaled the smoke he had been holding in his mouth.

“It was getting interesting as I kept listening, why don’t you continue? Wouldn’t it be more exciting with the person in question present?”

He then carefully scanned the faces of the fools who couldn’t even meet his eyes properly.

‘The eldest son of the Devon Count’s family and the second son of the Riksha Marquis. Count Stanbird and Baron Troy…’

He mentally recited and repeated the backgrounds of those in the room.

These were names that would be etched in his mind from now on.