THNW 11

To My Husband’s New Wife Chapter : 11

Icy green eyes that did not seem to hold even a trace of warmth swept over her from head to toe.

Lancelot was dressed as impeccably neat as always—so flawless that not even a common shirt wrinkle stood out.

Not a speck of dust clung to his shoes, and the tie he had cinched tight without loosening a single button was the same as ever.

If there was anything different, it was that his features—once thin and delicate as if spun of silver thread—had deepened further.

That the neck, as thin and long as Anita’s, had grown sturdy enough to seem as though it would never break.

Conversely, that the fingers laid neatly atop his leg had grown long enough that they could snap her neck in an instant, and still have length to spare.

The sight of him, familiar and yet endlessly unfamiliar, made Anita hesitate.
‘There’s nothing to be surprised about. It’d be stranger if he hadn’t changed in two years.’
She drew in a deep breath and approached him.

Only after standing before Lancelot did Anita realize she had even forgotten to greet him.
“Bed.”
…Bed?

Lancelot examined each part of her closely, then opened his mouth again.
“I don’t see a bed.

Where did you spend last night?

Lady Alexandr’s house?

I understand it’s more than half a day’s distance.”
Lady Alexandr was Anita’s youngest paternal aunt, but they were not close.

Conscious of how her throat had somehow locked up, Anita gave a small, useless cough and answered.
“Sleep… my head was too complicated, so I couldn’t.”
Lancelot, who had been staring at her, rose without a sound.

With the view suddenly lifted, Anita unknowingly stepped back.

Otherwise, it was hard to meet his eyes—his height had grown that much.

If it wasn’t her imagination, he seemed even taller than her father, and that noticeable growth made Anita feel distance.
“When did you last eat?”
“Yesterday evening, I think.”
“With what?”
“Just, whatever was left, roughly.”
“Roughly how?”
His steps made a wide circle around the bedroom, then returned to her side.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Lancelot did not press her, calmly waiting for her answer.

The line of his eyes, fixed steadily on her without blinking once, was deep and distinct.

Clean and white like a young nobleman’s—no, cleaner and whiter because he was a young nobleman—his face looked like the face of a wax doll.

Cold and hard Lancelot, as always.

Cold and unfeeling Lancelot, as he always, every day, had been.

Anita’s head slowly collapsed.

At that, Lancelot’s lips, tightly set, quietly opened.
“I wasn’t trying to interrogate you.”
Anita’s eyes widened.

She was startled.

She had wondered what the large and small dots on the floor were, but she hadn’t expected they could be her own tears.
“Anita.”
Reflexively, she brushed her cheek.

It wasn’t a mistake.

They were her tears.

She hadn’t cried in so long that she hadn’t even recognized them as tears.
‘So this is how they fall, without warning.’
A lightly hoarse voice fell from above her head.
“If I offended you, I apologize.

I spoke without considering your situation.”
“No, no.”
That isn’t what I want an apology for.

Anita quickly wiped at the corners of her eyes and lifted her head.

And with all sincerity, she offered her thanks.
“It’s not because you interrogated me.

It’s because you came.

I think I cried because I was so happy you came.

Thank you, Lancelot.”
Lancelot’s neat lips slowly closed.

Seeing that, Anita lowered her head again.

Trying to put it into words made the feeling surge up all over again.
“Thank you for coming to find me, truly.”
Why won’t the tears stop?

It’s been two full years since we couldn’t meet.

Lancelot, at least, hadn’t changed.

He was a true friend.

Lancelot’s long shadow falling over her head seemed to quietly embrace her unease.

He hadn’t taken her hand, nor brushed her shoulder, but to Anita, it was comfort beyond measure.

Once the tears stopped, embarrassment came before joy or gloom.

It was the first time she had cried in front of Lancelot since she was little.

After she grew a bit, she had never once cried in front of anyone outside, Lancelot included.

Perhaps it was the influence of what she had learned from her father since childhood: never show weakness before others.

Just as she was needlessly rubbing at her cheeks now dry and soft,
“Is this all your luggage?”
At Lancelot’s question, which broke the long silence, she turned her head slightly.

His gaze was fixed on the luggage bags she had piled into the back of the room.
“Yes.”
“It’s not much.”
“Laborers who don’t even know where they’ll be working took everything they could get their hands on.

I didn’t have time to pack.”
“Where will you stay?”
There was no way she had one.

But to look as though she was fine, she steadied her voice.
“I’m going to find a place soon.”
“Soon?”
His finely set brows twisted without restraint as he looked at Anita.
“Exactly when?”
“Probably… today.”
Thanks to Lancelot and Jill, it seemed she could get a decent job.

Anita planned to share only a brief catch-up, then return to the employment agency.
“Come with me.”
Of course, with Lancelot’s temperament, he would try to take her straight to Edenbahir.

To propose going together without a moment’s hesitation.

Gratitude made the tip of her nose swell again.

Even so, she couldn’t cry twice in a row, unsightly as it would be.

Anita shook her head firmly.
“No.

Just coming to see me in person is enough.

I feel stronger, too.”
“Explain what, exactly, is enough about it.”
His brows furrowed into a shallow groove.

It was a dissatisfied face.

But no matter who it was, refusing Lancelot’s help was what was right.

Lancelot, in the so-called marriageable age bracket of aristocratic society, had remained quiet without any major scandal.

If rumors spread that Anita was being supported at his estate in the midst of that, it could become a troublesome situation.

She did not want to stand by and watch Lancelot become the protagonist of vulgar gossip.
“It doesn’t feel like I’ve lived more than twenty years for nothing.

I gained a friend who worries about me sincerely.

So I should keep going and stay strong, not give up.”
“You seem to have something in mind?”
“Uncle Vlad introduced me to a job.”
Lancelot’s eyes narrowed slightly.

With an elegant gesture that did not feel coercive in the least, he held out his hand.
“May I check what kind of job it is?”
After a brief hesitation, she handed over the director’s business card, crumpled ugly from being handled so much.

Lancelot was wary of Vlad.

Strictly speaking, there were few people he liked to begin with, but he was particularly more wary of Vlad.

He scanned the card, then soon let out a small, humorless laugh.
“A maid, huh.”
The business card she had handed him disappeared into the inner pocket of Lancelot’s jacket.
“A maid, of all things—not even a governess.”
To be exact, it would be fortunate if she could get even a servant position at all, but she didn’t bother telling him that.
“As long as I can work, I don’t plan to be picky.”
Her card had been snatched away, but she had looked at the address and telephone number so much she had them memorized, so it wasn’t a problem.
“Anita Beulroeniya.

If you were me, what do you think you would have done?”
Not understanding what he meant, she only looked at him quietly.

As if the empty interior felt somewhat stifling, Lancelot began to unfasten the cuffs that had been neatly buttoned.
“You said I’m the best friend of your life.

Excluding Claudnia House.”
“…Did I say something like that?”
“It was a similar meaning.

Don’t change the subject.”
Since it came from Lancelot’s mouth, it couldn’t be a lie.

I must have gone crazy without realizing it.

Embarrassment made her face flush red.
“It’s not much different for me, either.

If you weren’t important to me, I wouldn’t have run all the way here at this hour.”
To Anita, who had watched Lancelot for a long time, it was quite a surprising statement.

Lancelot was someone who showed, not told.

More precisely, expressions in words had practically evaporated.

To him, the tongue was mostly just a tool for rebuke, slander, advice, and exchanging information.

For such a Lancelot to put the word important to a living person’s face?

It was moving, and unbelievable, so she asked again with a foolish expression.
“Am I one of your most important friends?”
“Are you going to say that can’t be true?”
The cold gaze thrown at her scolded her not to say something so ridiculous.
“It’s not an empty phrase.”
Three steps away, Lancelot’s green eyes told her.
“If you deny it too, you wouldn’t be trying to make me into an incompetent, heartless friend.”
Lancelot’s straight steps passed by Anita and stopped at the door.

And in a firm voice, as if he would allow no more objections, he declared,
“I’m going to help you, Anita Beulroeniya.

That way, the time I’ve known you won’t have been wasted.”
“Lancelot.”
“Is it difficult?

Then I’ll help you think about it the easy way.

Don’t think about your pride.

Only think about the pride of me and Claudnia House.”
With a ruthless face, he looked back at Anita.
“The Duke of Edenbahir and the head of Beulroeniya are business partners with a reputation in this entire region.

If you, whose biological father has gone missing and whose property has been taken, wander about outside.

How do you think people will see Edenbahir?”
The downfall of Beulroeniya and the missing head of the house.

Edenbahir, the investor and partner, pretending not to know their only child.

What Lancelot meant was clear.

That ignoring her was, from Edenbahir’s standpoint, a perfect situation to invite an unpleasant misunderstanding.
“I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
He turned his back without hesitation and left the room.