Ansi pulled to free her arm from his hand, but he did not easily let go.

“Hm? What did Trisy say?”

“Nothing. She didn’t say anything.”

“Don’t lie! I heard she dragged you from the lobby after work to a picnic.”

“It’s none of your business, young master.”

“Don’t say that, Rein. I’m sorry… I’ll apologize on Trisy’s behalf.”

Labou shook his head as if feeling frustrated and sad.

Ansi knew. She knew that this young master had some degree of affection for her.

But Ansi had no intention of describing the incident with Trisy to him.

Even if she told Labou what happened, nothing would change. It would only make Trisy more wary or tired.

Even now, instead of saying he would persuade Trisy to prevent it from happening again, he was offering to apologize on her behalf.

She wasn’t foolish enough to hope to find peace by relying on a young master who couldn’t even take care of himself.

“There’s no need to apologize. More importantly, please let go of my hand.”

Ansi tried once more to pull her hand away. Labou lowered his gaze to stare at her arm that he was holding.

“Are you angry? Rein…”

An intense gaze was directed at her. Instead of releasing her wrist, he slowly caressed it with his thumb. Ansi shuddered at the clearly intentional action and shrank back.

“Let go.”

“Stay with me.”

Labou seemed to have just decided to leave. He lifted his head and leaned in slightly, bringing his face closer to Ansi. A confident gaze was fixed on her.

“Rein, what do you think of me?”

“I can’t judge.”

“Don’t be like that. Don’t think too hard about it. Just tell me how you feel right now. Like if you’re excited, or your heart is racing…”

“It’s threatening. So please let go.”

“Why… do you say that?”

Though she had only spoken the truth, Labou seemed angry. He pressed his lips together and pulled Ansi towards him.

At this moment, Ansi truly felt threatened. The man before her was of sturdy build, and it was difficult to escape from his grasp.

Ansi tensed her entire body, resisting being pulled. However, this seemed to provoke him further.

Just as Labou stretched out his other arm to grab Ansi’s shoulder.

“Aaagh!”

The hand that had just touched her suddenly withdrew. Labou flailed his arms in the air, trying to block the stream of liquid pouring down from above. However, the liquid covered his head and face, flowing down freely.

An alcohol smell much stronger than what had been emanating from Labou permeated the air. Ansi hastily stepped back and looked up.

“Oh my, I’m sorry.”

A waterfall of whiskey falling from the window.

“The taste had gone off, so I was going to throw it away. I didn’t know someone was here.”

The one who had concocted this was, of course, that man.

The man holding the bottle upside down showed no sign of remorse. Even as he spoke, he kept the bottle inverted until the very end.

After shaking out the last drop, he finally turned the bottle right side up. However, the bottle’s use was not over. Instead of setting it down, he grasped the neck of the bottle and shook it lightly.

Swish, swish. The bottle swayed precariously.

As if it might fall at any moment.

“Be careful.”

A leisurely smile played at the corners of his mouth. Towards Labou, who was staring at him blankly, the man spoke as if whispering.

“I tend to have weak hands.”

“Uh… Ah…”

Uttering a strange sound, Labou left the place as if fleeing. It was hard to tell if he was running, walking, or crawling. The man, chuckling at the ridiculous sight, shifted his gaze.

“Lord Damion.”

At Ansi’s call, he leaned further over the windowsill, resting his elbows on it. A gentle voice followed.

“Would you like to come up for a moment?”

Several hours earlier.

Damion’s early arrival in the South was due to the conclusion of his negotiations with Baron Bellow. The meeting that had started early in the morning ended with exactly the positive outcome he had anticipated.

As Damion rose, adjusting his clothes, the middle-aged Baron Bellow said this:

“Don’t forget the conditions. A thousand percent return on the investment. That’s necessary for the next stage to be possible.”

“I should be able to return next month. You, Baron, should consider in advance how you’ll show your support.”

“Well, I’m not sure if I should call that guts or just plain brazenness.”

Despite saying this, the corners of Baron Bellow’s mouth curled into a satisfied smile.

While the confident young man’s words might seem like mere bravado, somehow they felt like they would become reality. This was also based on the trust built up over the past few months of observing Damion.

“Next time, will I be able to meet Count Rozel as well?”

“We’ll see how you do.”

“It would be even better if you could bring Duke Raventus along.”

“I see you’re leaning towards brazenness.”

Duke Raventus was the third son of the Orphe Duke from two generations ago. Although he didn’t succeed the Orphe dukedom, he had achieved great military merit and received the title of Duke of Raventus.

Baron Bellow and Count Rozel were also descendants of the Orphe Dukes from five and four generations ago, respectively. As such, they were currently listed as elders of the Orphe family.

The ancient families of the Belgader Kingdom often formed such councils of elders. Even if they didn’t directly inherit the family line, those with high social positions or titles became elders and belonged under the family name.

The influence of the elder council varied from family to family, but no family could completely ignore it. They enjoyed the benefits of the family’s prestige while also elevating that prestige itself.

Families where individuals held high positions, like that of a duke, were relatively less influenced by the elders. The more powerful the duke, the greater the benefits the elders received from outside.

So the elder council also tended to set aside their rights, observing rather than voicing opinions.

However, Damion de Orphe, the second son of the current Duke Orphe, began to visit the elders one by one, breaking their complacent and boring peace.

His goal was as impertinent as it was clear.

Succession to the Orphe dukedom.

Given the country’s custom of primogeniture, the heir to the title would be decided as Kardian, the eldest son, barring any unforeseen circumstances. However, Damion asked them to overturn this and support him instead.

No matter how powerful Duke Orphe was, it would become difficult to ignore if the elders decided to raise their voices in unison. That was what Damion hoped for.

This clever and cunning young man decided to pay for their support not with power within the family, but with tangible benefits from outside.

He showed such talent and intuition for business that one might wonder why he had wasted these abilities in the military for several years. Considering he returned with the title of a war hero, perhaps his victories in war were also due to his acumen.

In any case, this investment was a kind of test to decide whether to step in to support him or not.

And Baron Bellow was half-convinced that this man would indeed become the future Duke Orphe.

“So, in your opinion, should I invest in that railway connecting to the neighboring country? I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Are you indirectly saying that you’ve decided to support me now?”

“Can’t you give me that one piece of information? My, how stingy.”

“Let’s call it accurate, shall we?”

“We’ll see next month.”

Baron Bellow left with a hearty laugh. Damion smirked at the meaning behind his last words.

He took out a pocket watch intricately engraved with vine patterns. There was still time left until he had to meet that woman.

Should he stop by that beach?

Damion got into a white car and drove himself towards a certain beach. It was a place he had taken note of during his last visit to the Ziden viscounty.

The car stopped on a road overlooking the sea. He stood leaning against the car, silently gazing at the ocean.

He could have gone closer to the water, but he didn’t. Walking on the wide expanse of sand would surely get sand on his shoes, and he didn’t relish the thought of struggling to brush off that fine dust.

A cool breeze blew in. The wind in coastal areas always evoked a feeling both unfamiliar and nostalgic. The endless blue expanse as well.

The sight of blue waves gently advancing onto the sand and then retreating as if fleeing was never tiring, no matter how long one watched.

What broke that quiet serenity was the presence of someone on the beach some distance away.

Ansi de Lubellsa.

That woman was visible.

Damion’s eyes narrowed. The woman was neatly plating snacks on a picnic mat. He quietly observed her. His deep eyes were soon filled with Ansi’s image.

He appreciated her as one would appreciate the waves.

The woman had something in common with those waves. The way she would push in just enough, then shrink back and flee as if nothing had happened.

Crash, a suddenly fierce wave rang in his ears. It was large enough to wet the sand quite far away. The waves would occasionally give a fierce, unpredicted shock and then retreat.

Even though it looked calm, somehow it didn’t seem to have a good temper – she resembled that aspect too.

At that moment, the Ziden viscount’s daughter, who had been running around on the beach, walked towards Ansi.

The two conversed in front of the mat. Though he couldn’t hear the words, it didn’t seem to be a pleasant conversation.

The negotiation seemed to have failed. The Ziden’s daughter picked up a plate and smashed it into the sand.