INWY~12

Chapter 12

Dante slipped a hand into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a cigar case. 

Lighting up was as unhurried as ever, as though the events just moments ago were nothing more than figments of his imagination.

The filter smoldered, filling his mouth with a bitter, smoky tang. 

He exhaled, and the pale smoke drifted lazily through the silent corridor.

Tsk. 

Dante clicked his tongue with an irritated sigh.

Riena Bronte. 

A woman cursed with wretched misfortune, plagued by a fate that never once favored her.

From the very first moment he met her, she’d been that way. 

A woman who had tried to throw herself beneath a moving carriage.

An uneducated commoner who dared speak of noblesse oblige, who had pleaded for his help. 

At the time, it had piqued Dante’s curiosity.

But only that. Even when he’d ordered men to dig into her past, the pitiful scraps of her life had done nothing to hold his interest.

Scorned by her family, reduced to begging, nearly sold off like cattle, and in the end driven to attempt suicide.

A story so paltry it wouldn’t even make the cut as a side character in a third-rate novel.

Still, the last three years hadn’t been so bad. 

Watching such a woman mold herself to his handouts, scrabbling to stand taller—it had been an odd sort of amusement.

And yet, in the end… a carriage accident.

That woman, Riena Bronte, had seen to it that the Grand Duke of Venachert witnessed firsthand the tragic, laughably pathetic ending of a third-rate character.

Dante’s expression twisted as a blaze of irritation licked up inside him.

“In the end… it’s all my damned fault again, isn’t it.”

Crunch.

He bit down hard on the filter, then hurled the half-burned cigar out the window. 

The downpour outside devoured the ember instantly, as if it had never been.

***

“Damn it! With rain like this, the search is impossible!”

Even the commander’s frustrated roar was swallowed whole by the torrential downpour.

The dogs could barely catch a scent in the relentless sheets of rain, and the divers couldn’t risk diving into the surging lake.

The scene was utter chaos.

To make matters worse, it wasn’t just rain—the wind whipped like a midsummer typhoon. The weather was monstrous.

The commander caught sight of one of his men slipping treats to the dogs and exploded.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing feeding them? You’ll ruin their noses!”

“What does it matter? The search is shot to hell anyway. Why wear the poor mutts out?”

Evan muttered under his breath, shooting the commander a sidelong glance. 

What, did the man swallow a furnace? Why did he have to yell like that?

Brushing his hands clean after feeding the last of the dogs, Evan strolled over to the commander.

“Everyone knows it’s impossible to search in this weather. But what can we do? Orders are orders—and these came from the Grand Duke of Venachert himself.”

“That’s what I don’t get! Why is His Grace even bothered? It wasn’t one of the palace carriages, just some shabby public coach! He won’t even tell us who was riding in it—so what the hell are we supposed to be looking for?”

Evan shrugged. “Hey, we’re just grunts. Orders come down, we carry them out. That’s life.”

In truth, it was the rookies wading through the muck, not him. 

He swallowed his own irritation before it could slip out.

“Come on. Let’s just go through the motions and then I’ll buy you a drink. Grilled chicken, your favorite.”

“You’re unbelievable. Tossed your wife aside the moment she fell ill… what, you’ve got some commoner mistress now—”

The commander cut himself short. 

A sudden glare of headlights washed over them.

“…What the hell?”

A white automobile pulled up. 

A young man leapt out of the driver’s seat, snapping open an umbrella before rushing to the back door.

The commander gawked as golden hair emerged from beneath the umbrella.

“…The Grand Duke of Venachert…?”

The man’s face blanched. 

All his bluster from moments ago vanished like smoke.

Dante’s gaze flicked toward him. 

The commander stiffened and saluted at once.

“Du—Duke, Inspector of the Behern Police Bureau, at Your Grace’s service—”

“How goes the search?” Dante cut him off, his voice flat and cold.

The commander faltered. “We… we’re doing all we can, but in this storm it’s near impossible. Once the rain lets up, it’ll be—”

“I wasn’t aware search parties chose their weather. If that’s the case, you’re useless.”

His tone was sharp as a blade.

“Even a corpse—can you not manage that much?”

The commander’s mouth flapped, but no words came. 

His head dropped.

Dante’s golden eyes slid from him to the man beside him. 

Evan stiffened, throwing up a crisp salute.

“Evan Reims, lieutenant of the Behern Police Bureau. An honor, Your Grace.”

Dante gave him a brief, dismissive nod before turning back to the commander.

Evan ground his teeth. 

Arrogant bastard.

And then—

“Found something!”

The shout came from below, beyond the fence that edged a steep embankment.

Evan strode over, leaning over the barrier. 

“What is it?”

“A travel trunk! Come down and confirm!”

A trunk? Evan glanced back at Dante.

The Grand Duke stood unmoving beneath his umbrella, face as cold as a reaper’s. 

A chill crawled down Evan’s spine. 

He whipped his gaze away and barked at a rookie, “You heard him! Get down there and haul it up!”

The trunk had been battered to pieces rolling down the slope, but its shape was still recognizable.

“Sir, is this the lady’s belongings?”

Evan hefted the trunk and held it out.

Dante’s eyes fixed on the ruined case. 

The faded green leather was unmistakably Riena’s.

I will never forget the kindness you have shown me, Your Grace.

He remembered. 

She had left with two trunks.

His eyes dropped to the contents. 

Inside lay only threadbare, shabby clothes. 

The same old garments she had clung to for years, while the dresses he had given her still hung untouched in her wardrobe.

She had never intended to change.

She had stuffed his generosity away in a closet and carried these scraps with her instead. 

The other trunk, if it were found, would be filled with more of the same.

Dante’s gaze hardened to ice.

“Throw it away.”

Evan blinked. “Sir? But this could be—”

Dante turned on his heel, ignoring him. 

Before stepping into the car, he glanced back at the commander.

“When the rain lets up, resume the search. I want the person. Not the luggage.”

“…Y-yes, Your Grace.”

The white car rolled away, leaving the men in stunned silence.

The commander sagged, gasping for breath. 

“Gods above… that man’s no duke. He’s a beast.”

“What, scared of him now?” Evan teased.

“Shut up, damn it!” The commander raised a fist, but froze mid-motion. 

His face drained of color again.

“What now…” Evan frowned.

The commander stammered, “He… he didn’t hear me earlier, did he? About… about the mistress?”

“Oh.”

Evan remembered clearly: ‘Tossed your sick wife aside… what, got yourself some commoner lover?’

The man’s voice carried like a trumpet. 

There was no way Dante hadn’t heard.

“Should’ve watched your mouth,” Evan muttered.

The commander slumped, whispering in despair. “I’m finished… fired, divorced, cut off from my kids…”

Evan rolled his eyes and turned away. 

His gaze fell on the trunk still cradled in his arms.

Throw it away.

His Grace’s words rang in his ears.

But… it could be a keepsake. 

What if it really did belong to the Grand Duchess?

Evan’s lips twisted, but he shook his head. 

Impossible. 

The Grand Duke was ruthless, but even he wouldn’t be indifferent to his wife’s accident.

Surely not.

Still… he set the trunk gently into the baggage cart rather than discard it. 

He couldn’t shake the image of those cold golden eyes.

“Oi! We stopping or what? His Grace said stand down!” he bellowed at the others.