“Would you like a cup of tea?”

When I left the room, Enrico was reading a newspaper while drinking coffee as if it was his own house.

“…What brings you here so early in the morning?”

“It’s almost noon, isn’t it, rather than morning?”

“That may be true. Still, it’s sudden without any notice.”

“Don’t stand there uncomfortably talking. Come and sit down.”

Emilia sighed and sat down across from him. He then put down the newspaper he was reading on the table and slid it towards her.

With his gesture indicating for her to look, she reluctantly picked up the newspaper slowly. There was no need to look at the back pages. The large article on the front page caught her attention.

There was an article about Director Carlo and Eva.

After receiving several tips, a reporter who had been waiting personally witnessed and learned of the two’s secret relationship, and upon learning this, the theater manager applied the internal rules without exception, immediately issuing a dismissal notice to those who tarnished the theater’s honor, according to the content.

If the theater manager hadn’t come yesterday to deliver the dismissal notice, it was clear that it wouldn’t have been wrapped up as neatly as in the current article.

Emilia looked down at the newspaper with a thoughtful expression, then put it down on the table.

“This situation must have been more interesting than yesterday’s audition.”

“…It was surprising. But surely you didn’t come because of this?”

“No. Let’s go have a meal.”

“Outside? The two of us?”

“Yes, just the two of us. Is there anyone else we should invite?”

Enrico acted as if he had suggested something very natural. Since when were we on terms to eat out together? It was puzzling why he was doing this when even eating together at the duke’s residence occasionally was uncomfortable.

A few days ago, he said he would use her for something other than showing dance on stage, and this seemed to be part of that. Emilia’s face stiffened slightly.

“Your Grace, I want to live quietly. The moment we go out together, we’ll naturally attract attention, and then what about the articles?”

“Ah− Are you worried about the sponsorship?”

“Yes.”

“But when I looked into sponsorship relationships, I heard that having meals together is the bare minimum. Am I mistaken?”

Enrico raised the corners of his mouth gently. It was the smile of someone who knew that this was certainly not incorrect information.

Emilia slightly bit her lower lip. He rested his chin on his hand, staring at her as she looked troubled and unable to say anything.

“But why do you want to hide the sponsorship?”

“…Isn’t that better for you too, Your Grace? That’s why there haven’t been any rumors so far.”

“Well. I only had people keep quiet because it was only for a short period to avoid rumors. But you’re different.”

A strange light passed through his eyes, which had been displaying indifference. It was probably about the long-term contract, but somehow those words sounded peculiar. She, who had been quietly meeting his gaze, finally averted her eyes with a look of discomfort.

“Don’t avoid it.”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t avert your eyes like that. It makes me feel unpleasant.”

It was a cold and imperious tone.

“Are you now forcing even my gaze?”

She muttered like a sigh as she looked at him again. He should have just kept treating her coldly. Being with him as he alternated between being kind and unkind made her feel like there were deep pits everywhere, making it difficult to move.

“Of course. During this contract period, you belong to me.”

“I’m curious when my contract changed to be like that.”

“Well. I’m not sure either.”

“At this rate, it might change again in a few days.”

“Yes. It will change if I lose interest.”

It was now a familiar phrase. Emilia quietly closed her mouth. It seemed better to just give up and go quickly, as staying here meant she would have to go along with his wishes anyway.

He stood up first. After putting on his coat that he had taken off briefly, he gestured for her to come out.

“We’re going to a private place, so don’t worry about exposure. I don’t like unnecessary articles either.”

And he went out, muttering those words. In the end, Emilia let out a big sigh.

The Perrine Street on a Sunday afternoon was unexpectedly quiet. As it was a boutique street mainly frequented by the upper class, most people were either active late in the afternoon or enjoying late-night parties on weekends, so fortunately, there weren’t many people strolling the streets at this time.

Emilia looked at the scenery outside the window and inwardly felt relieved.

Although she would wear a hood, if someone saw her entering a restaurant with Enrico, it was obvious that they would make the front page of the newspaper. But since he said they were going to a private place, it seemed he would handle it himself.

‘Then he should have just said so from the beginning. Sigh…’

Even though she tried to endure it, knowing she couldn’t escape anyway, the emotions that welled up were unavoidable. If she responded calmly, he would speak as if deliberately scratching at her feelings, and if she reacted, he would brush it off as if it was nothing.

Emilia thought that Enrico was as skilled as Giorgio in turning people’s insides out, as she stared at the approaching white iron gate. The employee who came out after opening the iron gate seemed to be checking the reservation, looking at the paper he was holding and the carriage emblem, before opening the door wide.

‘To think I have to meet this man even on my day off.’

The carriage stopped in front of a white building with a golden banner sign that read ‘Maison Grand’.

It was famous as a high-end restaurant that even the upper class found difficult to book, often appearing in newspapers to the point where no one didn’t know about it, but none of this mattered to her right now.

As long as she didn’t encounter a single person, it didn’t matter where it was.

Emilia put on her hood and inadvertently looked at Enrico sitting across from her, their eyes meeting immediately. He had been staring at her, meeting her gaze with an expressionless face.

Somehow, it felt like a gaze she wanted to avoid. As if those eyes could see through to her depths, Emilia unconsciously averted her gaze.

Soon, there was a knock on the carriage door, and it opened. Enrico rose from his seat leisurely. Emilia waited for him to pass by her before standing up and positioning herself at the door.

A hand clad in a black leather glove was extended before Emilia. After a moment’s hesitation, her white hand slowly rested upon the glove.

“Why aren’t you wearing gloves?”

One of Enrico’s eyebrows raised.

“Ah… I forgot.”

“How careless.”

The brief click of his tongue clearly conveyed his displeasure.

“What if your hands crack from the cold?”

The problem with taking it as pure concern was that the speaker was Enrico. Emilia rolled her eyes, unsure of how to react.

“Your skin seems delicate, turning red with just a little pressure. It looks weak against dryness too.”

“…I’ll make sure to remember next time.”

“Take good care of them. Aren’t they used as much as your feet on stage?”

As expected, it was just like him to interpret everything solely from an artistic perspective. Emilia smiled bitterly.

If he was like this about her hands, she couldn’t imagine how disgusted he’d be seeing her feet, with their knobbly joints and blisters in a mess.

‘Maybe I’ll show him these feet when the contract ends.’

To Emilia, her feet were a testament to her efforts, so far from being embarrassed, they were rather a source of pride. But he would surely hate such things, making him truly incompatible in many ways.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Ah… Someone might misunderstand and think Your Grace is worried about me. When that’s not really the case.”

She muttered, covering her mouth as if embarrassed, in response to his nonchalant question.

“Why isn’t it? Isn’t it worry?”

Yes, worry for something he owns. Emilia suppressed a wry smile and answered a beat late.

“…Is that so?”

“Yes. Where else would you find a patron who cares this much? Providing support generously in all aspects, considering your condition. Even overlooking your irritating aspects.”

Not a soul was visible in the corridor where the employee was guiding them. Concerned that the employee might have heard his low whisper, she slightly furrowed her brow at his last words.

Noticing Emilia’s change, Enrico lazily curved his lips.

“The reason I’m generously overlooking your tantrums is because you show me enough in return.”

Had he ever been generous? All she could remember was him always trying to control her at will. It felt suffocating.

“But you’re all talk while failing to meet expectations? I hate those who can’t grasp their position the most.”

Each word that followed was humiliating. However, his words seemed like a preemptive warning, and the thought of him turning away in disappointment was even more frightening.

All she had left was ballet, and it was what she was most confident in, but the bitter reality was that ballet was merely a means to an end to achieve what she truly wanted.

Emilia slightly bowed her head, hiding her flushing face.

“Oh my, this wasn’t something for you to bow your head over. You can be proud. You’re still satisfying my eyes, after all.”

She wasn’t ignorant enough to miss the coldness forged within his kind tone. Emilia nodded slowly, pressing her lips tightly together.