The two people’s gazes fixed on Enrico at his brief response.

“I came because I have something to say, so my niece should go first. Emilia, don’t you have anything to say to me?”

There’s a lot I want to say. Why he hadn’t been seen for so long, if that kiss truly meant nothing more than a light game, and if he knew about the rumors about us.

The former might be difficult to ask, but Emilia nodded once, thinking she should at least talk to Enrico about the rumors.

“Your Highness, I apologize. Regarding the rumors you mentioned earlier, I think I need to discuss it with the person involved. I hope you understand.”

Alessandro’s lower eyelids twitched briefly. His lips were curved up as if frozen, but his gaze towards Enrico was cold.

“I understand. Rather, I’m relieved you’ve overlooked my rudeness today. Well then, I’ll take my leave.”

Clearly friendly, but somehow leaving an uneasy feeling. Emilia watched Alessandro’s retreating figure, surprisingly withdrawing neatly, then raised her head as her vision darkened.

“Stop looking and come inside.”

She let out a small sigh as she saw Enrico standing right in front of her. Feeling frustrated at how much he would scratch at her insides today, her increasingly fluttering heart started to worry her at the suddenly close distance.

Emilia, who had been staring intently at the steaming teacup, looked curiously at Enrico as he slowly drank it.

Although she had known him for several months, she had mostly seen him drink wine or just water, so this was the first time she’d seen him drink tea like this. Hot tea, at that.

With raindrops sliding down the window in the background, he sat leisurely savoring his tea, looking like a painting. His delicately lowered eyelashes lifted as he set the teacup down on the table.

“You’ll bore a hole in my face.”

“Ah… It just feels like it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“There’s no need to see each other often. You’re not in a condition to dance ballet anyway.”

Having parted on bad terms after the kiss, Emilia’s intention to approach him amicably quickly cooled.

Is he drawing the line early, saying there’s no need to see her when she can’t do ballet? It seems the value he had repeatedly sung about is currently at its worst state.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. I’m planning to start practicing next week.”

“So soon?”

He raised one eyebrow as he spoke.

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“When did I say that?”

After implying such a thing just now, he asks when he said that. At his brazen response, Emilia pressed her lips tightly together.

“Your answer.”

“If that’s not the case, it seems I misunderstood.”

Enrico’s eyes narrowed subtly. Whether it was a look of wondering why she was acting this way, or considering probing further, Emilia simply fiddled with her teacup and lowered her eyes in response to his reaction.

The ticking of the clock’s second hand and the sound of the wind filled the silence.

“…What are you going to do from now on? I don’t care, but weren’t you always wary of rumors?”

Finally, he relaxed his expression and slowly stroked the rim of his teacup. Her gaze, which had been fixed on his long fingers, traveled up his arm to his face.

“Yes. But it’s just word of mouth spreading, nothing concrete has emerged, so I’m not sure what to do.”

“You don’t need to come to my mansion for a while. Instead, send the doctor here. Have you had your ankle examined?”

“You don’t need to send anyone. I’ll be fine if I just apply the medicine you gave me properly.”

“It looks problematic to me. I don’t know how many times I’ve told you to get your ankle examined.”

Enrico tilted his head slightly. Unlike his languid tone, his sharp gaze swept over her.

“At this point, it almost seems like you’re deliberately avoiding the examination.”

For a moment, her jade-colored eyes wavered slightly. Emilia picked up the cup she was holding and very slowly, as if savoring it, took a sip and swallowed.

“That’s not possible. It’s just that I know my body best.”

“Such a careless thought could lead to problems later. Isn’t your body your greatest asset, more than anyone else’s?”

From value to now asset. It’s not uncommon to say that a ballerina’s body is her asset, but Enrico’s words were of a different quality. When he, who treats people like objects, speaks of assets, it’s merely a concept of valuing things.

To begin with, talking to him wouldn’t resolve the rumors that have already spread. I should have just sent him back with Alessandro. Emilia belatedly regretted as she pushed the cup she had been touching forward.

“Yes. I’ll be careful. Then, understanding that I won’t be going to the Duke’s mansion for a while, I’d be grateful if you could leave now.”

“Are you trying to drive out an unwelcome guest?”

“Of course not. I just thought, upon reflection, that there was no need to invite you in alone when no solution is immediately apparent.”

Enrico smiled, stretching the corners of his mouth at Emilia’s monotone voice.

“Then do you regret not letting that guy in too? To the house I gave you, no less?”

Is he now taking credit for this house too? As all his actions seemed unfavorable, Emilia’s face grew as cold as his.

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I don’t think so. It seems like you momentarily blurted out your true feelings.”

“Duke.”

“Do you think I would quietly watch someone else come here?”

“…I never asked for this house in the first place. You forced it on me. If I had known you would constrain me like this in every little thing, I would have refused somehow!”

“Would you really have? You never had a choice to begin with.”

“If I had known it would be this kind of contract, I wouldn’t have done it from the start. I didn’t stake my body. I staked myself as a ballet dancer, that was the condition. Hah… It seems like continuing this conversation will only hurt both of us more.”

Emilia was growing tired of constantly fighting over the same issues. Taking a deep breath while pressing her forehead, she abruptly stood up and walked towards the front door. Enrico followed, standing up as well.

Before she could reach the front door, her wrist was firmly grasped in the hallway. Emilia’s body turned with her wrist, appearing as if she was jumping towards his chest.

“Why? Now that you’ve gathered some evidence, do you think you can terminate the contract?”

Reflexively bracing herself against his chest to stop her momentum, she pushed against it as if to shove him away, shaking her caught arm.

“Let go!”

“I will never terminate it first. Do you think I’ll do as you wish?”

He whispered roughly, as if to provoke her. Her caught arm was yanked once more, bringing his face close to hers as she looked up. His head tilted slightly at the precarious distance.

“You are mine. I must have what I like.”

He seemed like someone desperate to inflict pain.

“I told you I’m not an object!”

“Even if you say you’re not, you’ve already made a contract where your value is set like an object. A precious person? What does that matter? Isn’t what’s right in front of you the most important?”

“What does that have to do with anything! It’s just a momentary interest anyway. I’m just one of those things you’ll get bored of soon, like those artworks you buy and never look at again. Do you really have to make me this miserable?”

After observing for several months, Emilia had come to understand Enrico’s style to some extent.

The paintings he bought from frequently visited exhibitions and the various artworks he collected always took the place of the old ones in the duke’s mansion, pushing them out.

And Enrico never sought out these artworks that entered the duke’s mansion. As if now that he had obtained them, there was no need to look at them anymore.

“Well. It seems just looking isn’t satisfying enough.”

He whispered in a barely audible voice, curling the corners of his mouth. Her hands that were pushing against his chest were now tightly gripping his shirt, trembling.

“So I wonder if I can confirm what it is by taking this body, what do you think?”

With a sharp sound of friction, his head turned slightly. Her hand that had been gripping his clothes was now reddening her palm, having sliced through the air. As if trying to calm her severely trembling hand, she clenched her fist tightly, blinking her eyes rapidly.

Intense breathing erupted. As if everything she had been holding back burst out at once, her face, breathing roughly, was a mix of shock and anger.

His head slowly turned back. His violet eyes, devoid of any trace of amusement, reflected her face that looked as if she might burst into tears at any moment.

“…If you want to terminate it, you do it. But if you can’t handle all the aftermath, don’t even try.”

A gloomy and sticky desire lingered in his eyes. As if this was all he could do right now, his attitude of endlessly pushing her made her finally close her eyes tightly.

The tears that had been precariously hanging finally rolled down her cheeks, dropping from her chin to the floor.

The grip on her wrist loosened, and she felt a force holding the back of her head. Hot lips touched her cheek where the tears had flowed. The tears seeped into his lips.

“I have no intention of ever letting you go.”

Soon all warmth faded away. Her eyelashes trembled and her eyelids lifted at the faint breeze brushing past her and the sound of receding footsteps. A desolate silence enveloped her surroundings.