IJNSTH 10

Chapter 10

Recollection

“Cigarettes?”

Beyond the reporters, there was silence.

Inside the Salenner Hotel’s suite, Ludvig Rex spoke as he revealed the edge of a cigarette case from his jacket. Its ornate design suited him perfectly.

A rather fresh kind of mockery, Vivienne thought as she sat on the sofa opposite him, her gaze drifting to the low side table by her knees—and the ashtray atop it. It seemed the image of her from a year ago, heavily sedated, had left quite an impression on him.

“No, thank you. I have my own.”

She rummaged through her clutch, avoiding his persistent stare.

“I don’t remember you enjoying things like that.”

Ignoring him, Vivienne pulled out a plain, rough case.

“I learned.”

Turning her head away, she awkwardly placed a pink cigarette between her lips. Click. The metallic snap of a lighter echoed, and she felt his gaze lower. When Ludvig flicked the roller and brought the flame closer, she leaned back.

“I said, I have my own.”

Meeting his steady eyes, she retrieved a matchbox from her bag. Ludvig immediately guessed it had come from the kitchen and scoffed lightly, which she ignored.

She inhaled deeply. The trembling in her hand eased.

As she exhaled, smoke swallowed her fiancé’s face.

For a brief moment, she almost forgot his presence—until his voice pierced the haze faster than his silhouette.

“Herbs. And sedative-type medicinal plants.”

At his low chuckle, Vivienne avoided the gaze she knew was coming.

“Is this it? What you smoked last time?”

After the last time she’d met him at Salenner, the article she’d had Cynthia commission spread like wildfire and took over the capital.

Since that day, Ludvig Rex had been strangely quiet, appearing only as her fiancé at events where his father—the Speaker—was present.

When business forced them to sit together, he neither looked at her nor spoke. Because neither side mentioned breaking off the engagement, the relationship had survived on a knife’s edge. Only when both families began discussing the long-scheduled engagement banquet did he start behaving like his old self again.

It was curious. Almost as if he’d been holding back to avoid annulment. Perhaps he thought there was no engagement partner more convenient than her.

Herbal smoke slipped between Vivienne’s lips. Her hand still trembled faintly. Being alone with him in an enclosed space made her feel suffocated.

The medicine was taking effect—her chest rose and fell sharply.

She slowly closed her eyes, then opened them and met his gaze head-on.

Her breathing steadied. Her mind cleared.

“Who taught you?” he asked.

“……”

“Oh. Was it that agent?”

Vivienne focused on smoking down the cigarette.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re in the mood for small talk.”

He was right, so she didn’t bother answering.

She had sworn she wouldn’t smoke the last herbal cigarette he’d given her. She meant to keep it as a souvenir—a trace of him, an object to remember that moment by.

She had even planned to ask Madison to speak to a friendly military doctor to obtain something similar. But when she met Madison’s eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

There had been days she was grateful for her position—protected within the mansion’s barriers, spared from a life like Madison’s. And now she was considering bringing up herbal cigarettes.

It felt like exposing her lowest self. The fear struck suddenly. That one agent had led her to thoughts like this—it shocked her.

How important had he become to me?

And how terrifying would it be to lose him?

Fear bred hesitation. She couldn’t allow that.

And yet, she’d carried that cigarette all this time, telling herself she’d only use it if things became unbearable. She thought she could endure it. Thought she’d grown numb to most things.

She hadn’t.

In the end, she’d reached for it.

“I won’t be attending the engagement announcement banquet.”

Vivienne lifted her head and faced reality.

The voice that came from the blond man was as arrogant as the way he lounged. Beneath his lazily lowered lashes, crimson eyes swept over her.

“Because Carolina Russella told you not to?”

Pain flared near her ribs—memories as toxic as poison invaded her mind. Yet she remained composed. The sedatives were working.

“You know well enough.”

Ludvig filled a whiskey glass and took a drink.

“I’ll tell the Marquis myself. I’ll say you’re busy with work.”

The glass was placed beside the ashtray.

Vivienne watched the man—her fiancé, an ally of others, a potential husband—rise without hesitation.

“The front-page photo will be excellent. I’m sure His Excellency the Marquis of Mergoville will be pleased. He seems to enjoy campaigning with whatever the press is gossiping about these days.”

If she wanted to possess that agent, she couldn’t keep trembling like this in front of Ludvig.

To draw the interest of the underworld’s leader, she always had to be the center of attention. This moment was a critical turning point.

So, for the first time, Vivienne wondered: What does Ludvig Rex want from me?

He passed by her seat toward the door.

At that moment, Vivienne commanded, holding the nearly burned-out herbal cigarette—

“Sit.”

Suppressing the wave of nausea from her own boldness, she listened to his footsteps approaching.

They stopped.

He knelt on one knee before her and looked up.

‘……’

His face was handsome enough to explain how he so easily lured countless women into his bed.

She could only see his lower face clearly, but even that was flawless. His crooked smile was insolent.

“Vivienne.”

He spoke her name more gently than ever, fixing her with a dominant gaze.

Then he rose slowly, gripping the antique chair’s armrests and looming over her.

A large shadow fell over her.

“If you call someone over, you should say something.”

Instead of answering, Vivienne blew smoke straight into his face.

“Someone?”

“Yes. Someone.”

As the smoke cleared, she saw not anger, but a cold smile.

“I’m the one indulging your little noble play.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Her eyes lowered slightly. Of course, he wasn’t the type to tolerate her insolence.

Even as she felt the chair tremble under his grip, she continued.

“If I’m a woman sold off to you, then aren’t you the stud your father sold to my family?”

A scoff appeared on his face. Vivienne’s color nearly drained away.

But she didn’t stop.

“I remember hearing the Speaker wanted to make you a senator. You needed a title for that, so you allied with my family. You hated that, sold my title to the underworld instead, and now you’re playing at being the real thing while standing on equal footing with the eldest son.”

“……”

“Am I wrong? No matter how impressive you act, you still need a title. Which means we’re equals. That’s exactly what I told your mistress too—know your place, and behave accordingly.”

Her voice was as calm as when she’d entered the room.

“If she took it out on you because of that, I apologize. She was fair, at least. She treated me the same—had her follower shove me down the stairs. I never expected that.”

Vivienne met her fiancé’s crimson eyes directly.

She spoke of nearly dying, her body bruised black and blue, as if recounting someone else’s story.

“The Marquis and Marchioness don’t know. My injuries would be a loss to them. I know exactly what my assets are, so I never told anyone. But your mistress tried to sell my photos to the press and ruined everything. I deserve compensation.”

She crushed the burned-out cigarette into his solid shoulder and extinguished it.

“Attend the engagement announcement banquet. In private settings, I won’t care if you buy your mistress a villa or do whatever you want inside it.”

Her now-free hand gently straightened his loosely tied tie.

“I know you’re good with calculations—and that was something your father considered when choosing which card to play. So don’t do something you’ll regret.”

This time, she didn’t avert her gaze.

She organized her thoughts. He wanted three things from her.

First—respect.

She didn’t know why, but whenever the Marquis—her father—demeaned his lineage, Ludvig redirected that anger at her.

If she and her father were truly nothing to him, couldn’t he just laugh it off?

That’s what she, a noble, thought.

But clearly, he wasn’t like that. So this time, she elevated him by acknowledging his sharp mind.

Second—her title.

Whether he wanted to continue doing business with the underworld or pursue a senate seat, he needed her. If he maintained basic courtesy, she was willing to cooperate.

Since gaining the underworld boss’s protection was her own goal, being involved in his business benefited her as well.

Third—freedom in private relationships.

This suited her too. As long as he observed minimum decorum, she didn’t care what he did with his mistress. If the woman stayed satisfied and didn’t envy her, Vivienne wouldn’t get hurt again.

She wanted him to understand that equality wouldn’t disadvantage him.

Vivienne spoke again.

“Think about who will benefit you more in the long run—a ticket-selling actress pretending at nobility, or me, a hereditary noble of Daatro. I’m done talking. You may leave.”

“……”

They stared at each other for a long while.

A negotiation that had degenerated into a battle for dominance.

A clear line had been drawn.

“Ah.”

When Ludvig Rex finally smiled again, Vivienne’s slender shoulders flinched.

Her arms were thin, fitting for someone who barely ate. So different from the curves accentuated by her dress.

“Almost forgot.”

He rummaged through his trouser pocket.

A luxurious box emerged clumsily along with a lighter and other odds and ends. Vivienne slowly lifted her gaze.

“We need something to show at the engagement announcement banquet.”

She stood to leave, but when she reached for the box, he stopped her.

“Put it on.”

He grabbed her wrist firmly, then deliberately knelt and slipped a ring onto her fourth finger.

No doubt he was being spiteful—acting like the ideal fiancé she most desired, just to remind her how easily she could lose it.

Vivienne walked out without reacting.

Under the hallway lights, the gemstone on the loose ring glittered on her finger.

At the line Vivienne had drawn, Ludvig drew another—platinum bright—around her finger.

A symbol of marriage by convention, but today, the two lines were unmistakably parallel.

Vivienne was satisfied enough.

Everything was going according to plan.

Perhaps sacrificing the cigarette had been a charm against misfortune.