Chapter 112
One day had passed since Riena returned home.
The reports that came in were nothing special. Apparently, the moment she arrived back, she had shut herself inside the house and spent her time doing chores.
Then why had she gone back at all?
Did she really need to use her body and be busy to feel at ease?
Well… she had always been that kind of woman. Someone who absolutely could not stay still.
Even when she had been the Grand Duchess, wasn’t she the same?
Instead of leaving things to the maids, she insisted on cleaning the room herself, scrubbing stains from her clothes with her own hands…
Back then, most of the reports that reached Lady Margaret had been about things like that too. And honestly—at least this way, she wouldn’t be drowning in useless thoughts. From Dante’s perspective, this was the better option.
In truth, this decision wasn’t much different from the time he had called that girl.
Letting her meet Sharon had noticeably improved Riena’s condition before. He had simply thought that maybe, just like then, something similar might help her now.
Releasing a small breath, Dante chose not to enter the silent master room. Instead, he stepped outside into the annex.
Even in the middle of summer, the sea breeze near the coast was refreshingly cool. At least that part, he found rather pleasant.
The long daylight of summer helped too. The sky was deep blue, and strangely enough, staring up at it for a long time didn’t feel so bad.
Slowly, Dante placed a cigar between his lips.
While Riena had been there, he had tried to hold back. Even then, he had barely smoked a single stick.
But now, with her gone, he could smoke freely.
That, too, wasn’t such a terrible thing.
Perhaps that was why—his nerves loosened.
If their relationship stayed like this… he thought, it wouldn’t be so bad to let it continue for a while.
His gaze drifted blankly into the air.
Thoughts of the future crept slowly into his mind.
When everything was over… maybe next spring? Or, at the latest, summer?
Perhaps he could take her on a trip then.
Lost in those distant plans, Dante enjoyed his long-missed cigar.
Just as he exhaled a long trail of smoke—
“Boss!”
The sudden shout snapped him back to reality. Dante turned sharply toward the voice.
Running toward him from afar was Callis.
The closer he came, the clearer his pale, drained face became. A wave of irritation crept over Dante’s brow. It wasn’t like he’d run across a battlefield—why was he that out of breath?
In Callis’s hand was a single sheet of paper.
A telegram, obviously.
“What is it?”
Dante asked curtly, the cigar resting between his fingers.
“His Majesty the King… has passed away…!”
Callis practically shouted the words.
Dante’s eyebrow twitched.
Damn it. It was faster than he expected.
“All the nobles who were staying in Behren have already headed toward Arvern! And the guests staying at the resort seem to have heard the news too! Everyone’s trying to leave at once!”
…Of all times.
Of all possible times.
Dante briefly frowned, grinding his teeth as he ran through calculations in his head.
Then he dropped the cigar, crushing it under his foot.
“Don’t charge cancellation fees at checkout. Refund the remaining days to anyone with days left in their stay.”
It would mean massive losses for the resort.
Still, Callis only nodded.
“Yes, understood, boss.”
“Give proper instructions to the manager and staff. Once things settle down, you prepare yourself too. We leave before dawn, no matter what.”
***
The cries of seagulls mixed with the shouts of merchants and sailors, creating a noisy, chaotic harbor.
And right in the middle of it stood a noblewoman with an unusually calm expression.
Her posture and bearing clearly spoke of high status, yet her clothes were surprisingly plain.
The strange mismatch drew curious glances from the people around her.
Riena lowered her head and pulled her hat down more tightly. Shrinking her presence as much as possible, she moved forward step by step.
…She hadn’t expected the opportunity to come this quickly.
As she walked slowly, she recalled the short message he had sent her:
I won’t be long. You don’t have to come to the resort. Stay quietly at home and wait.
It really sounded like Dante Venachert.
In other words, don’t do anything stupid.
She already understood the situation.
It had been a headline-worthy event.
The King of Bermark—his maternal uncle—had died.
No matter how heartless he was, Dante would have to leave this place urgently. The king had already been bedridden for about four years. Perhaps this had been inevitable from the beginning.
Especially since it happened right after he married her and received his title.
Riena shook her head slightly, pushing those thoughts away.
It wasn’t something she needed to care about anymore.
It was a world that had nothing to do with her now.
So she had to do what she needed to do.
If she missed this chance, she didn’t know when the next one would come.
Taking a deep breath, Riena pulled the wide-brimmed hat down further, carefully hiding her face. Then she approached the ship ticket booth.
“One ticket to the Republic of Caldrea, please.”
“Please show your identification.”
There was no need to panic.
With a calm expression, Riena took out Henry’s identification card and handed it over.
The clerk tilted his head.
He looked the woman up and down, clearly puzzled.
“I think you gave me the wrong one. I need your own identification.”
Riena swallowed quietly.
This was expected.
She took out the prepared excuse.
“I lost mine… so I brought my husband’s. My hometown is Caldrea, and I received word that my parents are on their deathbeds… I need to leave urgently. Could you please help me?”
She clasped her hands together tightly, deliberately showing her panic.
The clerk glanced at the ring faintly shining on her ring finger and hesitated.
Riena’s eyes flickered faintly.
As expected… but not quite enough yet.
She gently searched her bag and pulled out a thick wad of money.
Then she pushed it toward him.
The clerk flinched, startled, trying to reject it—until Riena leaned forward, covering her mouth as though holding back tears.
“Please… I beg you. If I miss this chance… I’ll never forgive myself for not being by their side…”
The clerk looked around nervously, checking for prying eyes.
Then, with a small sigh, he quickly pulled the money into his coat.
He slammed the official port stamp down on the ticket.
“…There are no passenger ships to Caldrea right now. You’ll have to take a trade vessel. The earliest one departs in two weeks. Is that acceptable?”
She had expected this, considering the war had ended not long ago.
Riena nodded without hesitation.
Two weeks.
Neither too long… nor too short.
She carefully accepted the ticket to Caldrea, marked with the name:
“Lena Bailey.”
***
Though the news arrived late at night, it seemed every noble and member of the bourgeoisie in Bermark had rushed to the capital.
The already crowded capital was now overflowing with people.
Even nobles from distant Florian began arriving one by one.
And at the center of it all stood the current talk of the town—
The resort owner, Grand Duke Dante Venachert.
While preparing for the funeral, nobles would stay in their townhouses, hastily booked hotels, or if nothing else, friends’ homes or inns.
Honestly, Dante wanted to do the same.
But because of the cursed bloodline that was only half-connected to him, he couldn’t.
“Your Highness, the Crown Prince.”
As Dante entered the royal palace, he gave a small nod toward Reichert, who stood outside the king’s bedroom.
It wasn’t really a bow—more like a minimal dip of the head.
Reichert pressed his lips together at the rude gesture, forcing down his irritation.
Still, he returned the greeting politely.
“You’ve arrived, Grand Duke.”
Then, lowering his voice, Reichert whispered darkly:
“You must feel relieved now. Haven’t you been waiting for His Majesty’s departure all along?”
Dante looked down at him.
He hadn’t expected to pass without trouble.
His eyebrow lifted slightly.
“Well… can’t say I’m as impressive as you, Your Highness. You don’t even look like you’ve cried.”
Then, with a faint smile—
“I should at least keep up appearances. I’ll go in and pay my respects.”
In short: Move out of my way.
He walked past Reichert as if his existence meant nothing—
Then suddenly stopped in front of the bedroom door where crying could be heard from inside.
He slightly leaned toward Reichert.
And whispered:
“Take my advice. At least pretend to look sad. Unless you want to be torn apart by wolves.”
Straightening his back, he walked in without waiting for a response.
All eyes in the room turned to him instantly.
The Queen, her eyes swollen red from crying, hiccupped before glaring at Dante.
“How dare you…! How dare you come here…!”
Her emotions were so wild she didn’t even bother with honorifics.
Maybe it was her husband’s death.
Or maybe—her disgust toward the “half-blood.”
Dante had heard such words enough to be tired of them.
But they still—always—
Touched the nerve he hated the most.
“I only came to see His Majesty one last time, Your Majesty. Am I not allowed to watch my uncle’s final journey?”
“If His Majesty had never felt pity or guilt toward you… the royal family would never have carried such a shameful stain!”
“Ah. That’s quite a word. Shame, you say?”
Dante’s eyebrow twitched.
“You’re saying it’s shameful that a princess—who couldn’t even inherit the throne—loved someone she chose herself?”
Cold words spilled from his twisted lips.
At the peak of anger, even his throat felt like it was burning.
“You locked a pregnant woman away in a distant palace. Sent the father far away… and let him die.”
His voice dropped lower.
“That is the shame of the royal family. You should be the one who feels ashamed, Your Majesty.”
