INWY~10

Chapter 10

“Forgive me for disturbing you so early, Your Grace.”

Carrying her trunk firmly in both hands, Riena entered the room dressed as impeccably as Dante himself.

So she’s prepared to leave at this hour, and in such perfect order. 

Dante’s eyes narrowed faintly, a trace of mocking admiration curling at the edge of his thoughts.

Setting her trunk carefully at her feet, Riena lifted her head and spoke quietly.

“I felt I should at least offer you a final farewell, Your Grace.”

“…A farewell?”

His brow arched at the unexpected words.

“Well, well. Perhaps those three years weren’t entirely wasted, Riena.”

He slipped the cigar between his lips and lit it with slow ease.

Sunlight streamed through the window, gilding his golden hair in a dazzling glow. 

After drawing in a deep breath of smoke, Dante rested the cigar once more between his long fingers.

White smoke drifted lazily through the room, and just as the sharp scent brushed Riena’s nose, Dante spoke again—unhurried, commanding.

“Go on, then. Say it, Riena.”

The arrogant Duke of Venachert made no attempt to disguise his condescension. 

His golden eyes curved with amusement, gleaming cold and sharp beneath elegantly lowered lashes.

This will be the last time I ever see him.

Repeating the thought silently to herself, Riena steadied her breath, clasped her hands neatly together, and spoke in a calm voice.

“…Thank you for everything, Your Grace.”

She bowed her head briefly.

Dante regarded her for a moment, then turned his head aside, cigar still at his lips.

“That’s it?”

A short, incredulous laugh slipped from him.

But Riena stood tall, her composure unshaken.

He flicked the ash from his cigar with deliberate care before extinguishing it, then rose to his full height and crossed the space between them.

His footsteps struck the floor heavily.

Riena neither retreated nor moved closer. 

She hadn’t even stepped onto the carpet laid before his desk, as if she had no intention of trespassing onto his territory.

Even that defiance irked him. 

Dante’s brow twitched as he halted directly before her, his polished shoes gleaming against the scuffed leather of hers. 

One step closer and the tips of their shoes would have touched.

Riena’s eyes flickered down to his shoes, then up—only to drop again at the sight of his broad chest filling her vision.

She neither lowered her head fully nor stepped back. 

And then—his voice fell low from above her.

“Look at me.”

“…”

“When someone speaks to you, you meet their eyes. That’s basic courtesy, Riena.”

His tone was the same one he might use to scold a child. 

She knew all too well it was meant to humiliate her.

Her lips trembled as she bit down hard, then at last she lifted her gaze.

The golden eyes bore into hers, heavy and unflinching. 

The longer she endured his stare, the hotter her throat seemed to grow. 

But looking away would feel like conceding defeat.

She drew her spine straight, feigning composure, and asked quietly, “Do you have something to say to me, Your Grace?”

“Not particularly. I thought I’d offer you a farewell in return—since yours was pitiful at best.”

Her brows threatened to furrow, but she forced her expression smooth.

“If my words displeased you, I regret that, Your Grace.”

“Regret?”

He repeated the word with narrowed eyes.

Yet she pressed on, unfaltering.

“For three years, I pretended at the role of your duchess. But then as now, I am only a penniless commoner. If my farewell was unworthy of you, I cannot—”

“No, Riena.” His interruption was sharp. “For three years I treated you as a duchess. At the very least, you owe me the courtesy of behaving like one before you leave.”

His lips twisted into something between a smirk and a sneer. 

She could have slipped away without a word, and perhaps he would have let her go. 

But she had come back, forcing him once more to look at her—and he would not accept such a miserable farewell.

“Again,” he said, voice low.

“…Your Grace.”

“Say it properly, Riena. I’ve shown you noblesse oblige for three years. I won’t accept a beggar’s thanks in return. I’ll grant you another chance. I am, after all, a nobleman—and a gentleman.”

Her hands trembled, fingers clenched so tightly that blood rushed to her knuckles.

But it was true—she had chosen to come. 

She had chosen this ending. 

And so, she chose to obey.

She pressed one hand to her chest, pinched the edge of her skirt with the other, and bowed gracefully.

“I will never forget the grace you have shown me, Your Grace, Duke of Venachert.”

Dante chuckled softly. 

Now that was a duchess’s farewell.

***

“Where to, miss?”

The coachman’s gruff voice snapped at her as she loaded her luggage onto the carriage.

After a pause, Riena answered, “To the train station, please.”

“Then hurry up and get in! My bones are aching today. I was hoping to head home early, and now this…” He muttered loudly enough for her to hear. “Takes half an age just to load a trunk.”

Riena pressed her lips together and climbed into the carriage without protest.

The vehicle lurched forward without so much as a word of warning. 

His discourtesy was almost shocking—but she felt relieved. 

Clearly, he had no idea she was the notorious duchess. 

Dressed as plainly as she was now, no one would imagine it.

At least leaving quietly had its advantages. 

This—this disregard—was the treatment she had always known. 

Three years of luxury had never changed her essence.

She turned her head and glanced back through the window. 

Already the carriage had carried her far. 

Only the towering stone walls encircling Behern Palace remained in view.

Those walls, high and impenetrable, looked almost like the cage he had built around her. 

Cold and suffocating within, yet from a distance—strong, unyielding, eternal.

Perhaps that place truly was my final refuge.

A short, humorless laugh escaped her lips. 

What a foolish thought.

The crisp autumn wind slipped through the open window. 

Among the fleeting scenery, she glimpsed trees already fading to gold and red.

The endless summer of Behern was finally over.

She hadn’t decided where she was going. 

The station would suffice. 

From there, she could go anywhere.

Anywhere far away.

Farther still. 

So far that the past could never touch her future.

That was Dante’s last demand of her—and the only wish she had left.

But just then—

“Khff—cough!”

A fit of coughing wracked her chest. 

She snatched up her handkerchief, covering her mouth in alarm. 

She had left in such a rush, she hadn’t taken her medicine.

She glanced nervously at the coachman, though the rattling wheels and pounding hooves surely masked her coughs. 

Still, she tried to stifle them, even closing the window in fear of being overheard.

“Cough—khff, cough!”

But once it began, it would not stop. 

Her throat burned. 

And then—an acrid, metallic taste filled her mouth.

At last, after long minutes, the spasm subsided. 

Her eyes watered, red-rimmed and aching. 

She drew a shaky breath, exhausted.

It was only a recent illness, yet it worsened each day. 

A single coughing fit left her utterly drained.

Looking down, she saw the blood staining her handkerchief. 

She cracked the window open again, just as raindrops began to fall.

The coachman’s prediction had been right. 

Rain trickled down her hand as she held it outside.

She let the bloodied cloth slip from her grasp and fished a small vial from her trunk. 

Inside rattled a few white tablets—the strong painkillers old Benjamin had smuggled to her when he learned of her illness.

She studied the pill for a moment, then swallowed it dry.

The bitterness scraped her throat raw, but she leaned back against the jolting seat as though nothing were unusual at all.

Outside, the carriage rolled past Behern Square. 

At last, she was truly leaving the palace behind.

Her sigh was soft, almost weary.

She had at most two years left to live.

And she would not allow anyone to discover her secret.

She would go anywhere.

Anywhere at all.

It was the only thought filling her mind.

Over and over, Riena repeated it to herself.

Farther. 

Faster. 

As far as I can go.