IJNSTH 13

13. Flames

Vivienne opened her eyes to the sound of rain pattering against the windows. After blinking several times, she remembered that this place was something like a sanctuary and allowed herself to sink back comfortably into the blankets. From somewhere far off, she could hear the voice of a radio anchor.

It seemed someone had been here.

A damp shadow swept across the wide room with her eyes. Far off, there was a tea table, and on it lay a newspaper and an ashtray that had clearly been touched by someone.

Thinking that the man didn’t smoke made Vivienne shiver with fear. She quickly got up and walked toward the tea table. She paused, surprised that the room wasn’t cold, glanced at the distant fireplaces, and finally sat in the chair beside the table.

‘…’

Picking up the newspaper, Vivienne rubbed her eyes as if she were dreaming. But the words remained the same.

“Ludvig Rex Arrested: Is He Truly the Domestic Mastermind Behind the Underworld?”

Seeing the intense gaze captured in the photograph, she laid the paper back on the table. What struck her most was that Ludvig was in handcuffs. This time, it would likely be a long period.

She could easily imagine what had happened overnight.

“Someone from the Prime Minister’s office must have gone to the Metropolitan Police, and upon seeing the photos presented by the Chief of Security, realized that Ludvig Rex was implicated in his mistress’s suicide case.”

And based on Vivienne’s handwritten letter, an investigation into Ludvig must have been ordered. Likely, it would end with insufficient evidence, but until then, he had gained a brief reprieve.

There would be endless legal battles, and Ludvig, unless abandoned by his father, would eventually find a way out. By then, though, much time would have passed.

Meanwhile, the true underworld mastermind would have continued advancing his operations while avoiding the ruling party’s watchful eyes. It seemed he might even escape to a powerful nation across the ocean, seizing any opportunity.

Was this how it would end?

Vivienne stared blankly at the floor, listening to the persistent drizzle.

Yesterday at dawn, all she had wanted was to rest in the warmth of that man. Her guilt at ignoring the agent’s death had been hidden by sheer exhaustion. Whenever that feeling surfaced, she habitually repeated to herself:

I was miserable and lonely; now I deserve to be happy.

But then—

“So, my lady, I wanted to tell you that from now on, I will take responsibility for you.”

Hearing those words, she felt as if everything that made her up had shifted.

It was a genuinely kind statement. Yet she knew it also meant it could never be the same as what she had hoped for.

She realized that the icy, almost burning kindness from him was different from the fiery warmth she had felt in the agent’s arms. That recognition made this situation less comforting and more painful.

Kindness without heart, heart without kindness.

“So, the reason you said it was okay just now—was that because you felt indebted to me?”

Even if he resembled the agent, if he couldn’t share that warmth she had glimpsed, it was meaningless. Mere appearances weren’t enough. The agent had taken everything from her and reshaped her standards of happiness; he had been her salvation.

And so, for the first time, Vivienne entertained thoughts of revenge.

Throughout the night, she relentlessly imagined capturing the true underworld mastermind.

And betraying their boss—the green-eyed stranger who had stood behind her on Miravolta Street—didn’t frighten her, no matter the pain that might follow.

“You’re lucky. Seems there’s someone in the higher-ups who fancies you.”

She remembered Ludvig Rex saying that. At the time, she’d dismissed it, but now she had a sense of who he meant.

[He’s been watching over me.]

[Always.]

The underworld boss she had met in Miravolta.

Vivienne knew he would appear before her again.

He wasn’t Don Baccalone, so he was free in his own life. And Vivienne already knew what had pressed firmly against her back through her clothes when she first met him. The spot where he had bitten still throbbed slightly.

Whether to kill her again or for some other reason, she would meet him. He wasn’t entirely uncommunicative and even seemed to find her endearing.

So, when he came, she planned to behave like a careful, pliable tongue in her mouth—earning his trust. She wouldn’t reveal that there was another noble family’s strategist besides Ludvig. She would say that even her police officer brother, family, and fiancé could be abandoned for him.

Before that, she would build trust with the Prime Minister’s son, so that when the time came, she could hand over all information to him. No matter what happened to her, she wanted him to have the knife to take down the underworld boss. So Ludvig Rex would never step outside bars again.

And in return, she would secure her family’s safety and her own freedom as spoils.

In the quiet stillness, Vivienne clasped her hands tightly together, rested her head on them, and held her breath.

Then there was a knock at the door.

❖ ❖ ❖

“Next, news from the Emmerheim Republic. Though the Republic held general elections last November, its cabinet faces difficulties due to repeated economic policy failures. Historians predict that the lower house, the national assembly, may soon see a re-election. Currently, Emmerheim is split into two main factions…”

“Damn Emmerheim. Always so noisy. Listening to the radio makes the world seem absurd, nephew.”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Just listening gives me a headache. And that lady—did she agree to receive treatment?”

They were talking about the morning when, at Edmund’s request, several female doctors had come to the estate for a house call. Vivienne had been puzzled, so Edmund explained about the bruises he had seen on her arm yesterday at the Prime Minister’s reception room. Vivienne had said she would accept help. Since she wasn’t the type to accept charity easily, he had been surprised.

Moreover, he had seen her gentle demeanor, without a trace of haughtiness.

Her first impression might have been that she looked down on others, but she had been polite with the Prime Minister’s son. He was relieved but slightly bothered by the fact that she treated him as a stranger.

“Yes. She seemed grateful.”

“Met her yesterday—she’s quite a fine girl. Elegant, refined. She would suit you as a partner. If the two of you get along, the Senovic estate will have a noble mistress, which would delight your aunt. But…”

At that moment, there was a knock at the door. When the footman opened it, Vivienne appeared with the head maid.

Edmund couldn’t take his eyes off Vivienne’s face. She bowed slightly and walked in.

The Duke gestured, and Vivienne quietly sat beside Edmund.

“I wanted to tell you the house call is over. I also wanted to express my thanks, and I heard you were both here…”

Vivienne smiled innocently, as if unaware of anything.

“What were you two discussing?”

“About you, my lady.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Aunt, how far did you speak?”

The Duke’s gaze shifted to Vivienne. Alternating between the two, he said:

“That’s all.”

“But you had more to say after ‘but…’”

“I forgot.”

It sounded curt. At that moment, warmth spread over the little fist Vivienne had been pressing.

Vivienne was startled by the stir in her chest. Edmund held her hand tightly.

“I wanted to let you know I agree with your aunt’s thoughts.”

The Duke looked surprised, but Edmund didn’t care. He continued:

“I asked the lady yesterday, but your aunt should also know. The lady must become a protected informant. I will take responsibility for that.”

The Duke’s expression twisted slightly. Vivienne read it well. Her gaze returned to Edmund.

“So, I want to give a definite sign regarding the promise we made yesterday at dawn.”

As at dawn, Edmund gently took Vivienne’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“Your fiancé is now at the Metropolitan Police, so that position will be vacant.”

“Edmund, I—”

“Will you be my fiancée?”

Vivienne met Edmund’s eyes. He seemed to already know what she would say.

“Thank you for the offer.”

Vivienne patted his hand twice with her other hand, then twisted to free her hand. Edmund kept looking at her fingertips even in that moment. She deliberately looked away.

She had a plan. She couldn’t love him forever. Even he might someday question a relationship built on duty. She couldn’t handle the changing look in a man’s eyes who resembled the agent. Wanting the shell meant exactly that.

Moreover, he was far too suitable—a fact known by the Duke, herself, and all of the empire.

She didn’t want such a marriage. What she wanted wasn’t comfort.

“If this is about what you said while escorting me yesterday, don’t worry. I didn’t expect that much anyway.”

“…”

“If you let me rest peacefully until my fiancé’s matters are resolved, I would ask for nothing more.”

And later, if he conveyed everything she learned about the underworld boss only to his father—then all the better. Vivienne turned her head. She didn’t want to see him any longer.

She barely even remembered what the agent’s face had looked like—his expression had seemed sharper, his tone more cynical.

“If I changed your mind, would it matter?”

Edmund asked. Without hesitation, Vivienne shook her head.

“No. It wouldn’t.”

In the ensuing silence, the Duke clapped once. Vivienne’s gaze shifted to him, but Edmund continued looking at her.

“I’m glad this complicated matter has been resolved. Speaking of which, your cousins who heard about you visiting your father in the islands want to have a meal together.”

“I think Lady Vivienne needs rest.”

“Still, wouldn’t that be better than having you hover around?”

“Much better than having the household in chaos while family comes by, aunt.”

The Duke’s face looked annoyed, but Edmund didn’t seem to back down.

Vivienne was accustomed to such conversations. She was perceptive enough to understand the situation.

“I see no reason to refuse the Duke’s consideration.”

Her profile looked tense. She knew one of the family members present was Kingsley, whose greed she had discerned. She wanted to avoid this particular situation.

But what she wanted most was to avoid conflict. Edmund had to remain the Duke’s favored nephew and the Prime Minister’s trustworthy son.

Only then could her findings gain weight, and this matter would not be buried by another power play.

“Then understand it that way and go on in. You’re tired.”

“Aunt.”

“Tired, weren’t you? I want the staff to prepare the meal without your aunt supervising. Get ready to meet your aunt as well.”

“…”

“If the lady needs rest, it’s best she quietly stays in her room.”

“Yes.”

Vivienne responded politely, glancing at the Duke. He wasn’t angry, more pouting. Edmund’s siding with her rather than the Duke displayed mild frustration.

Even though she’s innocent, she wouldn’t want her precious niece hindered by entanglements with the underworld.

Edmund could find a far more suitable bride. The “but…” she heard behind the Duke’s words earlier likely contained that sentiment.

By now, Vivienne had assessed their trust. She could tell that if Edmund appeased the Duke later, the tension would ease.

That’s right.

A smart man like him would handle it without instruction. She should leave and let the conflict subside. Vivienne rose and walked toward the door.

Edmund followed slowly, keeping some distance. Once the door closed behind them and the staff moved away, he spoke:

“Kingsley has six women.”

Edmund walked beside her. Vivienne glanced at him and replied:

“Is that so?”

“Seems you fell for him at first sight.”

“I think His Grace misunderstood.”

“Did you know his mother’s position at the Senovic Medical Foundation is unstable? I’ve heard some doctors opposed a non-medical person holding the position, and they want my mother as the new chair. She was a nursing officer in the war.”

“…”

“My second uncle, Baron Sheldon, is wealthy, but my own fortune isn’t so bad either.”

“Is this how you intend to take responsibility?”

Vivienne blocked him, speaking sharply.

“By seducing me.”

Edmund tilted his head, as if admiring something cute.

“Yes.”

“Then at the proper time, visit the Duke and apologize for offending him. That will make you more appealing to me.”

“I didn’t know you were so good with men.”

Edmund’s gaze fell on her palm. She thought, Not again.

“So, His Grace isn’t your type of man?”

Vivienne spun around and walked forward. She felt the annoying sound of his footsteps following.

“Why?”

Looking at him, she blushed. His wide shoulders and large frame resembled the agent’s. The shell was similar, even the build.

Not the same person. And if she was to take revenge, she needed to be composed. She steadied her expression.

The scent of the man drew close, and her eyes widened. Edmund bent down, pressing a light kiss on her soft cheek. When she turned, his firm hand held her chin, forcing her to look at him.

His thumb traced the edge of her jaw. She felt even the faint prickle of his nail.

Where their skin touched burned, and his hand brushing her hair behind her ear felt strangely familiar.

As he pulled away, she exhaled slowly. She felt his breath had grown slightly rough. Her trembling eyes followed him.

“You’re not a man, right?”

A low voice like it echoed from a cave sounded above her head.

“Then this is fine. I have no ulterior motive. You’ve lost interest in my shell too.”

“……”

“Right?”

“Yes. And don’t drop your speech with me.”

“Why not? You owe me, so I can.”

“……”

“You want to meet that bastard?”

His tone flat, but it was a warning not to meet Kingsley. Vivienne had no such intention but was irritated by his attempt to control her with the memory of saving her at the ball.

“No. If you saved me twice, you’d demand even my house deeds, Count.”

“Maybe. You’re just pretty but useless; that’s enough.”

“How rude, for how long have we known each other?”

“Exactly.”

Edmund chuckled softly.

“Yes indeed.”

The monotone voice ended with a slight change, laced with a small laugh.

Vivienne wanted to escape him, so she cast a glance and walked forward. She had thought him a proper, cold-blooded man—trustworthy. But suddenly…

Still walking forward, she glanced back a few times, thinking, If this were the agent I longed for, he might have said something like that.

The persistent footsteps behind her moved slowly in the opposite direction, hands in pockets. Vivienne narrowed her delicate brows.

…Wait, were his footsteps always like that?

❖ ❖ ❖

Vivienne returned to the room, scanning her surroundings. With the lights on, it was brighter than before, and fresh firewood made it warmer. She glanced at the ointments on the bedside table, then at the tea table where the ashtray had been.

‘…!’

She blinked several times and hurried toward it. What she saw was no illusion.

Various desserts had been elegantly plated on gold-trimmed dishes, clustered neatly together.

Vivienne circled the table, glancing at them. When she returned to the front, a small folded card greeted her.

“To Lady Merghoville”

It appeared to be written by a staff member, with refined, beautiful handwriting.

At the Merghoville estate, such treats were reserved for special occasions, eaten rarely after tightening one’s belt.

Vivienne wasn’t usually fond of sweets, but now, her tension relieved, they seemed irresistible.

The desserts looked inviting, as if reading her mind. They were familiar flavors she hadn’t enjoyed in a long time due to her reduced attendance at social gatherings.

What if I get used to these and crave them when I return to the estate?

She walked briskly around the table, worried. She had just eaten breakfast, yet here she was seeking more. Remembering how the staff had happily watched her eat, she felt justified.

I don’t want to look like a haughty noble. But I should at least show I appreciate the food.

She eyed the caramel-baked, soft little pudding cakes, sweet and chewy sauce dripping over them, with custard cream beside them for balance.

Her gaze moved to pastries. Freshly baked, golden and crisp, some coated in chocolate, others filled with sausages.

Neatly sliced molasses tarts, sweet pies topped with preserved strawberries or peaches, and meat pies all looked enticing.

Powdered sugar-dusted scones studded with fruit or chocolate chips. Shortbread in baskets. Various finger foods. Savory biscuits.

Even a set for enjoying hot chocolate had been arranged elegantly, some in polished silver.

Vivienne marveled at the Merghoville family’s wealth to place such luxurious desserts all at once during a prolonged downturn.

She finally gave in and sat gently. Just then, there was a knock. Startled, she flinched.

“Lady, this is Head Maid Louise Grinson. May I enter?”

“Come in.”

Louise entered with a greeting and smiled at Vivienne. When Vivienne returned the smile, she cautiously asked:

“Thank you. Do you like the afternoon tea?”

“Yes, thank you. Please also tell the kitchen I’m grateful.”

“Of course. If there’s anything especially enjoyable, please let me know. We’ll make sure to serve it often.”

Feeling Louise might leave, Vivienne picked up her fork and knife. Then, recalling something, she called out:

“Oh, Mrs. Grinson.”

“Yes?”

“Is the young master… usually less reserved about contact?”

Vivienne wanted to believe the kiss on her cheek was a mere parting gesture. That he could do that with anyone without emotion.

She cut into the chewy cake she had first noticed, not daring to glance at the door, wanting to emphasize to the staff that the earlier incident was nothing.

“Perhaps it’s best to