HBTF 52

HBTF

Posted by Richard, Released on April 8, 2026

Chapter: 52

Did You Kill Her?

Having been curious the whole time, Classie quickly focused.

“Were you okay yesterday? I was worried you might have been very upset.”

However, what Kishin brought up as “yesterday’s matter” wasn’t about Dernick, but about his concern.

Classie, who had been so tense, relaxed a little.

“I was upset, of course. But I’m fine. As long as you don’t suddenly act like that toward me, Kishin.”

Still, thankful for Kishin’s concern, Classie answered obediently.

Seeing Kishin—who usually tossed cold words at her—show this attitude made her feel somewhat pleased.

Yet her curiosity hadn’t fully vanished, so once the waiter placed the dishes on the table and stepped away, Classie asked again.

“About what Lord Dernick tried to say yesterday… could you tell me?”

Classie didn’t feel she was making an unreasonable request. If it were something unrelated to her, she wouldn’t have asked. But since her name was involved, wouldn’t it be okay to ask?

Unexpectedly, Kishin looked down at the reddish noodles on his plate, showing a troubled expression.

“Hmm… I guess I can’t tell you?”

Feeling embarrassed, Classie asked once more.

Kishin moved his lips as if choosing his words carefully several times before finally replying.

“That story is entirely private to Dernick. Moreover, it’s not a topic he likes, and it has affected him from then until now. He himself hesitates to speak of it and dislikes others mentioning it as well.”

Classie’s curiosity grew even stronger.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“If it were my matter, I would tell you, Classie. We’re meant to become husband and wife, after all. But since it’s Dernick’s affair, it’s difficult for me to speak.”

“But if it involves me, shouldn’t I know too?”

Kishin paused for a moment, then suggested a compromise.

“Since it’s not something I should relay, it’s better to ask Dernick directly.”

Classie felt all the tension leave her shoulders.

‘Even after seeing how Dernick behaved yesterday, Kishin still says that?’

Yet on another side, she felt proud of him. Seeing him careful with his words for a friend, she wondered if, in the future after marriage, he might do the same for her.

“Alright. I won’t ask anymore.”

Thinking this, she felt much better, smiled softly, and picked up her fork.

“But I won’t ask Lord Dernick what happened. He doesn’t even want to talk to me—why should I chase him down and force an answer? I don’t mind living my whole life without speaking to him.”

* * *

For the next few days, Classie truly stopped paying any attention to Dernick.

She could perhaps be friends with the “chatty Dernick,” but if he disliked her that much, she had no desire to force a close relationship.

Even if he was Kishin’s close friend, or became related through Merran, it made no difference.

After all, even if their relationship remained distant, there would be no occasion for Classie and Dernick to meet alone, and Kishin would be there to intervene if Dernick treated her coldly—so that was fine.

All Classie needed to do was avoid situations where the three of them—Dernick, Merran, and herself—were together.

However, that turned out to be surprisingly difficult.

April 10th. On the day she went to a designer’s atelier with the Marchioness of Gosville to get fitted for a wedding dress, she happened to run straight into Merran and Dernick.

Merran and Dernick were standing side by side in front of a mannequin dressed in bright yellow, deep in conversation.

“Aunt? What are you doing here?”

Merran, surprised to see Classie just entering, asked, only to notice the Marchioness of Gosville walking in behind her and widened her eyes even more.

“Merran, it’s been a while. Oh my, Dernick is here too?”

The Marchioness of Gosville also spotted Merran and Dernick and spoke with a similarly surprised tone.

Classie immediately wanted to flee. If it weren’t for the Marchioness, she would have shut the door and run straight to her carriage.

But Dernick calmly greeted the Marchioness.

“Mother, why haven’t you been visiting our house lately? You should come more often.”

The ease and warmth in his greeting made him seem almost like the Marchioness’s youngest son.

The Marchioness laughed lightly and linked her arm with Classie’s.

“I’ll come by with our little baby someday.”

From this, Classie realized just how close Dernick and Kishin were. Hearing such warm and natural words, it was clear the Marchioness had known Dernick since he was a child.

The atmosphere instantly became cheerful.

Everyone except Classie’s. She felt even more awkward than when she first noticed Dernick and Merran there.

Until now, Classie had deliberately dismissed Dernick’s hostility as inconsequential. She would be part of Kishin’s family, and Dernick was not, so she thought she needn’t worry too much about his unexplained animosity.

But seeing Dernick so close with other members of Kishin’s family made her feel isolated and heavy-hearted.

At that moment, cutting through the otherwise pleasant atmosphere was a loud, high-pitched, excited voice.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!”

Classie drew a sharp breath and turned her head.

Before she could fully turn, she noticed a large pile of feathers—attached to a woman’s dress.

“Oh my, how lovely! Such a beautiful young lady! Oh my, madam, who is this beautiful lady? She’s so pretty!”

The cheerful woman, adorned with feathers, approached Classie, fussing and addressing the Marchioness of Gosville.

“That’s Classie, who will soon be marrying Kishin.”

The Marchioness released Classie’s arm and introduced her to the energetic woman.

“Classie, this is Miss Ibze.”

With the lively Ibze’s arrival, Classie finally felt less like she was on the outskirts of the social scene.

As the designer’s assistants measured and recorded Classie’s body dimensions, Ibze kept asking all sorts of questions, leaving Classie no time for her wandering thoughts.

“Has your weight changed much recently? When is the wedding date? Will you be able to maintain your current figure until then? Do you have any favorite decorations, designs, or colors?”

Miss Ibze recorded all of Classie’s answers.

Then she brought over five large albums and placed them on the low table. Inside were sample sketches of wedding dresses designed by Ibze herself.

Classie, Merran, and the Marchioness of Gosville each picked up an album and carefully examined the designs.

‘She wouldn’t deliberately pick something strange, would she?’

Classie was a little worried, but fortunately, Merran proved quite helpful.

Merran already had excellent aesthetic taste, and she used it to objectively select designs that would suit Classie.

‘I guess I’ve finally come to terms with marrying Kishin.’

With Merran’s cooperation, Classie’s heart fluttered, and she began discussing wedding dresses with excitement.

But after changing into twenty sample dresses, Classie no longer felt thrilled. The dreadful part was that there were still thirty more dresses she had to try on.

“I’ll go get some fresh air.”

Deciding she couldn’t handle it anymore, Classie stepped outside the atelier alone.

She stood by the door and took a deep breath. The pollen-scented air felt refreshing and cleared her head.

Feeling clearer-headed, Classie also felt embarrassed.

‘In a few months, I’ll finally be able to claim my inheritance. I’ll achieve my life goal. And yet, I’m whining just because I had to try on a few dresses. That’s ridiculous.’

She roughly calculated the estate listed under her name, felt encouraged, and turned back.

But as she did, she caught a glimpse of Dernick through the glass door. For a moment, she felt as if a ghost from the past flickered before her eyes.

That faint sensation briefly distracted her—but only briefly.

People passing by were reflected in the glass, and Dernick stood inside, looking toward her.

That was all. The vision from the past was merely a fleeting optical illusion caused by the reflection of another space in the glass.

Realizing this, Classie felt irritated.

‘When did he get here? Did he follow me? Has he been watching me from behind this whole time?’

Trying to maintain her composure, Classie opened the door—but Dernick stepped out before her.

To avoid colliding with him, she had to step back, and in the meantime, Dernick closed the door behind him.

It looked as if he were deliberately blocking Classie from entering the atelier.

“Why are you doing this?”

By now, Classie no longer tried to control her expression, frowning as she asked.