ICPTD 05

Chapter 5

Damn, That’s Really Annoying

Even though she had been betrayed in love time and time again, it wasn’t easy for Violetta to accept a new love that approached her.

The more the pain repeated, the more firmly a hidden wall of doubt and caution toward others was built inside her.

Even so, the reason she didn’t give up on love was simple.

She longed for a love like her parents’.

They were the only people who had ever shown her a happiness she couldn’t feel anywhere else. A love where each could not exist without the other, trusting and cherishing one another. Always worrying about the other more than themselves…

‘All I ever did was dream of love.’

A cruel reality poured down like a torrential storm, blinding her vision. Perhaps dreams were meant to remain only dreams.

As the rain began to fall, Violetta stared blankly at the empty space where her former lover had just left.

A murky puddle formed under the pounding rain. Over it, the final moments of her parents overlapped.

‘That day… it rained too.’

Two gunshots rang out on the platform of Bern Station. Screams mixed with the frantic footsteps of people trying to flee for their lives…

That day, five years ago, when everything descended into chaos.

Violetta couldn’t believe that the people struck by bullets were her parents. She didn’t want to believe it. Not until she stepped off the train with difficulty and saw their blood-soaked bodies, their faces losing light.

It was a tragedy that befell a seventeen-year-old girl who had only just become an adult.

Her younger sibling, just eleven at the time, had come to see their parents off—and was confronted with that damned horror. The child couldn’t stop crying. Violetta pushed aside her own grief and hurriedly covered her sibling’s eyes and ears first. Their nanny, realizing the situation, quickly led both of them away, fleeing in a daze.

That was the last time they saw their parents.

Even as they ran, she could never forget the sight of her parents—half-submerged in a puddle by the tracks, still tightly holding onto each other.

Eventually, the rain beating down on the puddle began to soften.

After crying freely beneath the downpour, Violetta let out a shallow breath. As her body, rooted in place like a stone, began to tremble, she thought of Mrs. Marie, the nanny who always worried about her, and Reina, her milk sibling.

“Ah… if I go back like this, they’ll worry again.”

She muttered to herself, slowly moving her warm, heavy mouth. Then, gathering what strength she could, she took a step to leave the park.

“I wonder if Miss Sierra took the carriage…”

Half-lidded like someone dazed, she swept her gaze across the park entrance.

This was a park mainly frequented by wealthy nobles, so it was filled with luxurious carriages and gleaming automobiles. Hiring carriages were rare…

Did that mean she had no choice but to walk that long distance like this?

Just then—

Her wandering gaze caught sight of the hired carriage she had arrived in. Fortunately, the client hadn’t taken it.

‘At least I won’t have to call another one.’

Barely holding onto her fading consciousness, Violetta drifted toward the carriage like a moth drawn to flame.

Whether from the rain or rising fever, her vision was still blurred. The carriage looked somewhat different in size, but the thought flickered away along with her dimming awareness.

“Terdo Street, number ten… please take me home.”

She slowly wiped her eyes and spoke to the coachman, barely visible through her haze.

Unaware of the shadow quietly trailing behind her.

Leopold was taken aback.

The silver-haired woman who entered his view was staggering out of the park, soaked like a drowned rat.

She looked utterly drained—like a candle about to go out in the wind.

Did she meet Hugo?

Like a lion hiding in the grass, observing its prey, Leopold’s gaze followed the woman.

And then—

He noticed a familiar figure trailing behind her almost at the same time.

Naturally brown hair hidden beneath a black wig. A face annoyingly similar to his own, though softer, with dull gray eyes.

Hugo Otero.

Unless someone knew him well, one might mistake him for Duke Leopold Otero himself. Like their mother, once a renowned stage actress, the son seemed gifted in acting and imitation.

Leopold watched closely, wondering if the “intimate contact” reported by his mercenaries would take place.

Unexpectedly, what caught his attention was Hugo Otero’s expression. Every time the woman staggered, his eyes wavered anxiously—like someone watching a child left alone near water.

That look… I’ve seen it before.

As he searched his memory, Leopold suddenly recalled Ian’s gaze when he had pitied Crown Princess Eleonore after she was brought in as spoils of war.

A crooked smile tugged at Leopold’s lips.

“Ah… Hugo Otero. So that’s how it is?”

He had wondered why Hugo acted alone. The reason, once again, was pathetic love. Leopold let out a quiet laugh at his half-brother, who had inherited their father’s foolish tendencies.

But his amusement didn’t last long.

Violetta Hernandez was heading in a completely wrong direction.

Don’t tell me…

What kind of lunatic woman would just climb into someone else’s carriage? Surely not.

But unfortunately, his bad premonitions were rarely wrong.

The woman had already reached the carriage.

And before Leopold could do anything—

The tightly shut carriage door swung open.

Leopold found himself utterly dumbfounded.

To think he’d use reflexes honed over more than a decade in a situation like this—he had leapt away from the window the moment the door opened.

And despite being the carriage’s owner, he now hid himself in the darkness like some intruder.

What the hell am I doing…

He swallowed a hollow laugh.

Why had he done that? If he had to explain it—perhaps it was instinct.

Watching Violetta Hernandez suddenly barge in, he gestured toward the coachman through the small open hatch.

Move.

Before the door opened, he had seen her mumble something to the coachman. Most likely, she had given a destination—probably the house of the nanny she stayed with.

In her current state, as if drenched head to toe, where else could she go? Her unsteady movements alone showed she wasn’t well.

The coachman, though looking troubled, nodded as if understanding his master’s signal and shut the hatch.

“Hyah!”

After a few cracks of the whip and the snorting of horses, the carriage began to roll.

Leopold focused entirely on the woman seated diagonally across from him. From the darkness came faint, ragged breathing.

Did she fall asleep already?

Soon, as his eyes adjusted, her silhouette emerged.

Silver hair like the Milky Way. Skin pale as snow.

Just as the mercenaries had reported. Among the fools who lived ruled by lust, it was no wonder her beauty was widely talked about.

Even with her family fallen, idiots would still line up to try their chances. That must be how she earned such a vulgar nickname.

Clatter.

The carriage jolted over a large stone. The woman’s small head, resting against the corner, bumped lightly against the window.

It must have hurt—but after shifting slightly, she curled up, hugging her knees, and continued sleeping.

Does she really think no one else is here?

She seemed so oblivious—someone could abduct her, and she wouldn’t even notice.

Didn’t humans have instincts? Could she really not feel something off in the air? Did she have to be this dull to keep playing her so-called games of love despite that nickname?

Countless questions and faint irritation eventually led to one conclusion.

She was completely different from him.

At that vague conclusion, tension in Leopold’s eyes mixed with curiosity. He leaned forward from the backrest, studying her more boldly.

The scent of wet earth and fresh grass wafted through the air.

Following the scent, he saw strands of her damp silver hair clinging messily to her pale face.

Rain—or sweat?

As he leaned closer, he thought he felt heat radiating from her.

Is she sick?

Without thinking, Leopold almost reached out to place his hand on her forehead—then stopped.

If she is, so what?

He tried to turn away, but her small, trembling body kept drawing his gaze.

Suddenly, he was reminded of a white kitten he had once seen as a child.

It was shivering in the rain too.

It seemed to have been separated from its mother. He couldn’t take it home in case the mother returned. All he could do was cover it with his small coat for hours. But the mother never came, and even when he later tried to treat it, it was too late.

Damn, this is really annoying.

His hand, lingering in the air, slowly dropped. He grabbed and released the collar of his frock coat several times.

After much hesitation, he finally shrugged it off.

Yet even then, he paused again and again, dissatisfied with himself.

Why?

He had been a ruthless commander who aimed only for enemy heads on the battlefield. After retiring, he became a relentless moneylender who tracked down debtors to the ends of the earth. Some even said death would be preferable to facing him.

And yet… he was feeling this kind of pointless sympathy?

Don’t be ridiculous.

He scolded himself—but another voice whispered from deep within.

What if she dies like this? She looks fragile enough. Do I really want a woman dying in my carriage? Besides, now that I know what she means to Hugo Otero, she could be a useful card…

Thoughts spiraled endlessly.

After fiddling with the coat in his hand a few more times, Leopold quietly unfolded it.

I’ll just cover her back so she doesn’t wake up…

Just as he was about to drape it over Violetta—

“…Otero… Duke… you bastard.”

A faint, unexpected voice slipped from the woman’s lips.