TPCF 42

CHAPTER 42………

Because she had been forcing her eyes wide open, Anita blinked rapidly, perhaps from dryness. At first, he thought she’d stop after a few blinks, so he left her alone, but Anita went on for quite a while—as if the act of blinking itself was strange to her.

“Stop that. You’re starting to scare me.”

“You’re scared of the oddest things. Should I boost your poor confidence a little?”

“I’ll pass.”

“Aw, don’t refuse.”

With that, Anita snatched the wine bottle from the table. She poured until the glass was nearly overflowing and shoved it toward Edmund.

“Drink.”

“Well, I do enjoy drinking, but at least one of us should stay sober—”

“Drink.”

Anita’s expression instantly turned fierce. After resisting for a while, Edmund finally gave in and lifted the glass.

“Fine. A toast, then… alright, alright.”

Careful not to let the overflowing wine drip onto his clothes, Edmund took a sip. Only after confirming that he had swallowed did Anita’s expression soften.

“I’ve always wondered—what’s your relationship with Senior Lilliana? You ditched me like a coward back then.”

“You get awfully blunt when you’re drunk, don’t you?”

“Don’t dodge the question.”

As if he couldn’t bring himself to speak sober, Edmund took another gulp before answering. The table was laid with thinly sliced ham and cheese dishes, but neither had touched them, so they were growing cold.

“It’s obvious. I guess you could call her the family’s chosen marriage partner. She….”

“You’ve already told me she’s obsessed with you.”

When Anita pointed that out, the corner of his mouth lifted—not in amusement, but in a bitter smile.

“To explain that, I’d have to start with my grandfather. Wouldn’t that bore you?”

Pouring herself another glass, Anita replied lightly.

“It’s fine. I’ll let you know if I get bored.”

“My grandfather wants me to major in political science and diplomacy, then enter politics. But I have zero interest in that. I don’t want to sit among a bunch of old men who do nothing but drone on.”

“……”

“It’s like they’re competing to see who can live the dullest life.”

“Oh dear.”

Anita, who had been raising her glass, slid it over in front of Edmund instead.

“Doesn’t it sound like a perfect match? The heiress of the Ribel Hotel and the grandson of the Earl of Aberdeen.”

“……”

“So I ran away.”

“Hm.”

Anita didn’t add anything more, only hummed softly. Edmund’s words drifted apart, floating around in her head.

“I see.”

She nodded, though she hadn’t really been listening.

“And you?”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t you have worries too?”

“I did. I mean, I used to….”

The normally talkative Anita suddenly fell silent. She almost wanted to confide in Edmund, but two problems stopped her. First, could she really spill personal matters to someone she didn’t know that well? And second, since her feelings about Rutger weren’t sorted out yet, she doubted she could even explain properly.

“Hey, you—”

Mid-sentence, Edmund grabbed his head as if struck by a sudden headache. After a long pause, he spoke again.

“You mentioned something earlier—about confidence or whatever.”

“Ah.”

Anita gave an embarrassed laugh. Now that she thought about it, she had whined about that to Edmund, ever since Charles Bennet. How pathetic of her to forget after just a few drinks.

“I don’t even know why I said that.”

“Hm?”

“Looking back, it wasn’t even that big of a deal.”

Anita couldn’t understand why she had ever been intimidated by someone as pathetic as Charles Bennet. A mysterious confidence welled up inside her. She swore that next time she met Charles Bennet, she’d throw a drink right in his face.

“I’m being dead serious right now.”

“Go on.”

Edmund, matching her seriousness, answered gravely. Anita lowered her voice as if revealing a great secret.

“I think I could lift this table with one hand.”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

Annoyed by his doubtful tone, Anita shot to her feet, ready to prove it. But the moment she tried, the world spun around her.

“Uh…?”

She plopped back down in her chair, stomach churning as though seasick. If she’d been in her right mind, she would have known better than to drink more with a headache. But Anita was already halfway gone.

She had already cracked open another bottle and was pouring recklessly until her glass overflowed. Maybe it was just her imagination, but strangely enough, her headache eased after drinking more.

“I think you’re right, Senior.”

Edmund wasn’t much better off—his blond hair had fallen across his face, half-covering it. He seemed too out of it to even think about brushing it aside.