INWY~30

Chapter 30

At last, Riena finished cleaning and swept her gaze around the café with a satisfied sigh.

The floors, the tables, the chairs, the counter, even the kitchen—everything gleamed under her careful touch, shining brighter than usual.

Today, Sharon had left earlier than usual, saying she needed to celebrate her parents’ wedding anniversary, and had asked Riena to handle the closing.

Reina! I’m so sorry! Next time, if you have plans, you must tell me!

Sharon, you’ll be late if you keep apologizing. 

Please give your parents my congratulations.

Though Sharon had looked so apologetic, Riena had only smiled and waved her off.

Plans. 

She never had such things. 

That bitter thought had made her lips twist for only a moment before she brushed it aside. 

In truth, she was almost relieved.

There was nothing better than simple, repetitive labor to clear her mind. 

And so, Riena worked later than usual before finally switching off the café lights.

The beach, once lit by the café’s glow, fell into complete darkness. 

The sea loomed before her, as if it had lost its only guiding lighthouse.

But Riena took it all in stride, finishing her last checks with care. 

Only when the café door was firmly locked did she step slowly out onto the sand.

The beach whispered with every step she took, grains crunching softly as her feet sank halfway into the sand. 

She liked the sensation.

Shhh—.

The cool rush of waves and the salt-laden wind wrapping around her—it was all so familiar, so oddly comforting.

Then her slow steps stopped. 

Riena sank down onto the sand as though it had been waiting for her all along, and fixed her eyes on the sea.

How long has it been?

Ever since the Grand Duke had suddenly appeared here, she had gone straight home every day, avoiding any chance of encountering him.

She drew her knees up and rested her face on them. 

Though her gaze lingered on the waves shattering into white foam, her thoughts swirled too thickly for her to truly see.

Why did I even come here?

When she searched for an answer, her eyes drifted across the water to the distant resort, its windows lit here and there.

And then she knew.

That was it.

When she had first learned that the massive building was a resort, her heart had nearly collapsed beneath the weight of it.

And yet—to think the owner of that resort was none other than the Grand Duke. 

It was a blow she had never imagined.

Shhh—.

Riena buried her face between her knees. 

With her vision blocked, only the crash of waves filled her ears.

When she had first faced him again, she thought everything was over. 

She hadn’t cared what misunderstanding he carried with him.

Even if he believed the worst—that she had staged that carriage accident herself to deceive him.

A sick, churning feeling swelled inside her. 

Riena let out a long, heavy sigh.

Her time was already half spent. 

She hadn’t thought she’d see him again in what little life remained. 

A wretched, unyielding fate.

What do I do now? Run again? But then what of the lieutenant, what of Florian?

Too many thoughts rushed up all at once, cramming into her chest until her head began to pound.

And then—

“What are you doing here?”

Not the waves. 

A voice. 

Someone’s voice in her ear.

That low, familiar tone above her made Riena slowly lift her head.

Golden eyes—brighter than moonlight, like the sun itself—locked onto hers. 

The very man whose presence tormented her stood against the sea.

“Get up. You’ll get filthy.”

At his flat, detached words, Riena’s arms tightened stubbornly around her knees.

“It’s not filthy.”

“Still quick to argue.”

His voice was lighter than usual, almost teasing. 

Dante tilted his head, watching her with unreadable calm.

Listen to me, Riena.

That soft whisper, once breathed against her ear, came rushing back unbidden. 

Emotion surged hot in her chest, and she barely managed to choke it down. 

Her reply was curt, defensive.

“Why are you here again? To torment me?”

“Torment you? Me?”

His brow lifted, and then he gave a short laugh.

“No, Riena. Not torment. I’m making you pay the price for deceiving me.”

“…The price?”

“A very small punishment of my own.”

Riena frowned. 

Deception, punishment. 

So all these mornings he had come to her café—it was for something as petty as that?

“And how long must I endure this punishment?”

“What?”

His brows rose at her sharp tone.

“I told you before I’d pay any price. Fine, I’ll accept your punishment.”

Her voice grew firmer.

“But you also said you’d grant me one request. If Your Grace keeps coming to the café, people will start to wonder. Then… it’ll all be meaningless.”

“You’re mistaken.”

His low voice brushed against her ear, cold as the night air.

“Your circumstances mean nothing to me, Riena. What matters is that I’m honoring your request—to treat you as if you’re a stranger.”

“…”

“If people start to think it strange… if they realize you were once mine—that’s your problem, not mine.”

His merciless words made Riena’s gaze tremble violently. 

His sunlit eyes were colder than the sea at his back.

…Yes. 

This was who he truly was. 

She had forgotten. 

The cold-blooded Grand Duke of Venachert.

Coming here at this hour only to pierce her with such cruel words.

Riena rose slowly to her feet. 

Sand scattered from her skirt as she brushed herself off.

All the while, Dante simply watched her in silence.

When she lifted her gaze again, her calm eyes met his.

“I was foolish to imagine otherwise. Do as you wish, Your Grace. Whatever follows, I’ll handle it myself, just as you said.”

She knew such words bordered on insolence to speak to him. 

But it was nothing more than defiance—a child’s rebellion.

She refused to meet his eyes again. 

With a curt bow, she turned and stepped away.

“Stop.”

The command cut across the wind, sharp as ice.

But Riena walked on, firm and unyielding. 

Another step, and another. 

Her footprints pressed into the sand behind her.

A bitter laugh rang out across the empty shore. 

Then came the sound—sand scattering under quick, powerful strides.

“Ah!”

Her wrist was seized, her body spun around.

Eyes wide, she stared up at him. 

His golden gaze burned fiercely, fury carved deep across his face.

“This is your last warning.”

His growl struck her ears like a blow.

“Try turning your back on me again.”

“…”

His eyes glowed like molten gold, sharp and merciless, and her body froze. 

Fear flickered plainly across her face, reflected back at her from his gaze.

The silence stretched unbearably long. 

At last, Riena’s lips parted, trembling.

“…Let me go.”

Dante released her wrist without a word.

Pain throbbed where his hand had gripped her. She winced, rubbing it lightly.

He noticed. Clicking his tongue, he took her wrist again—this time gently, carefully lifting it into his palm.

His brows knit as he studied it. 

Her skin was already red and swollen.

When she tried to pull away, he held her delicately, opening a small case in his other hand.

“Come with me.”

“…Where?”

Dante didn’t answer. 

With her wrist still in his hand, he strode forward.

“Wait—Your Grace, where are we going?”

“Home.”

Home?

Riena stumbled to a stop.

“I’m not going. I refuse.”

Her voice was firm, though it trembled faintly.

At that, Dante’s lips curved—just slightly, as they always did when her defiance amused him.

“Not that home. The resort.”

The waves filled her ears again, louder than before. 

Bathed in moonlight, Dante’s face seemed cut from stone.

“Sit.”

When he stepped out briefly, Riena looked around the unfamiliar room.

A guest room in the resort?

Luxurious furniture, famous paintings, glittering ornaments—it was a wide, elegant space.

Her eyes lingered, and suddenly she remembered.

That old hotel she had often passed when she was cast out, when she begged in the streets. 

She remembered standing frozen at its doors, warmth spilling out, the scent of perfume drifting faintly into the night.

So this is what those rooms must have looked like…

Her eyes softened, almost wistful.

“Still empty. Most of the furniture hasn’t arrived yet.”

She flinched at the voice and turned. 

Dante was back, a small medicine box in hand.

He sat beside her, opened it, and revealed rows of neatly arranged ointments, bandages, medicines—all brand new.

From inside, he took a small jar of salve and unscrewed the lid.

“Hand.”

The word dropped into the silence, low and steady.

That uneasy flutter stirred in Riena again.

Hiding her disquiet, she slowly extended her hand.

And in her heart, she thought—

Before he notices this broken heart of mine, I must run again.