There Is No Paradise Where I Ran Away To (14 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 53

Vivian was given a task upon returning to the mansion just in time for lunch.

She was to find the Duke immediately upon her return.

She had intended to come back before he woke up. Though her outing had certainly been harmless, she didn’t want to be unfairly scolded and put in an awkward position.

Yet despite the lingering effects of the alcohol—which had rendered even his normally keen judgment useless after returning home around sunrise—he had risen quite early.

When she heard that Edwin was still in his bedroom, she worried he might still be lying in bed just as he’d appeared that morning. After all, having enjoyed such a vigorous youth the night before, it was obvious he’d be groggy—his eyes perhaps open, but his body still unwilling to wake.

Standing before his bedroom door, Vivian knocked and then confidently pushed it open.

Thick darkness, the mingled scents of alcohol and tobacco hanging in the air, and Edwin sprawled naked across the bed—these were the images Vivian had imagined. But instead, what greeted her first was bright sunlight filtering in and autumn breeze fluttering through open windows, lifting the silk curtains—a sight that immediately challenged her biased assumptions.

Following that came Edwin’s calm scent, intertwined with a sweet hint of honey, carried gently on the breeze. Her eyes traced the path left by the fragrance and found Edwin leaning casually against the table.

Edwin looked impeccably put together—so much so that nothing remained of his disheveled state from early morning. His lean yet solid frame wore a formal suit so perfectly tailored it could have stood in a tailor shop’s display window.

He simply gestured toward the table where a light meal had been laid out. Feeling suddenly guilty for having mentally criticized him earlier, Vivian sat down without protest. Edwin then took his seat across from her.

“…You woke up earlier than I expected. I thought you wouldn’t rise until late afternoon.”

Vivian’s expression was cold and dry. Edwin lowered his eyes slightly, then studied her face—particularly the corners of her eyes—as she picked up her cutlery.

“For someone who drank so heavily, you look perfectly fine. The Duke I saw this morning was truly… ghostly. Your eyes were bloodshot—it was terrifying. You seemed so unlike the Duke I’ve always known that I wondered if you’d gone out to relive your youth last night and had your soul snatched by a demon.”

Vivian lifted her eyes deliberately. Her intention had been clear: to criticize and belittle Edwin’s appearance from that morning, thus pricking his pride. That, at least, was what she’d aimed to do. But the sigh she let out upon seeing his calm, indifferent expression confirmed her calculated barb had missed its mark.

“Did you cry?”

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