INWY~42

Chapter 42

Riena arrived at the café early that morning.

Sharon, who had also come in early just in case, spotted the open shop door and rushed inside in a flurry.

“Rena!”

“Yes. Good morning, Sharon.”

At that gentle greeting, Sharon’s eyes sparkled. With a squeal more like a cheer than a word, she dashed toward Riena.

At last—she was back!

Sharon practically danced in circles around her, brimming with excitement. Once she managed to calm herself, she immediately unleashed a barrage of questions.

“So, what happened yesterday? What did His Grace the Grand Duke say? He looked so grim—terrifying, even!”

“Sharon, he wasn’t grim.”

“Really? The way you’re defending him makes it sound like things went well!”

At that, Riena’s cheeks flushed pink.

“…Wait. Are you serious?”

Sharon had half expected it, but seeing such a reaction left her momentarily dumbfounded. Eyes wide, she stared, incredulous.

“…Um. Sharon, actually—there’s something we need to talk about.”

Riena, avoiding her gaze, suddenly narrowed her eyes as a memory struck.

“Huh? What about?”

“Don’t play innocent. Sharon, I have no intention of meeting anyone. Truly, sincerely.”

“Oh.” Sharon let out a small sigh. Her shoulders drooped, and she lowered her head, looking genuinely chastened. It seemed she hadn’t been pretending—she really had forgotten.

“S-sorry, Rena. It’s just, back then, His Grace was… he seemed like such a horrible man. I thought if someone was at your side, he wouldn’t dare bother you…”

“I know you didn’t mean anything bad by it. You’re a good person, Sharon. But really—I’m all right.”

Riena gave her a soft smile.

“And… I’d like to apologize to Noel as well. Even if it’s late.”

“To Noel? Oh, well, that’s fine. From what I heard, he was the one who behaved disgracefully. I never imagined he’d turn out that way, honestly. And anyway, you didn’t lay hands on him.”

At Sharon’s dismissive shrug, Riena clicked her tongue in mild scolding. Sharon ducked her head again, sneaking a glance before nodding obediently.

She really is like a little sister. Riena almost laughed but held it back.

“Is Noel all right? He must have been startled—and angry, too.”

“Well… I can’t say he wasn’t. But it’s fine. He found a job and he’ll be heading to the capital soon. I’ll just pass along your apology. Honestly, I think he’d feel awkward seeing you again.”

Riena nodded, satisfied.

“Would you really? Thank you.”

Sharon scratched her head, making a sheepish face. In truth, she had no intention of telling Noel about Rena’s apology. After all, Rena hadn’t done anything wrong.

“But still—can’t you tell me what happened yesterday? Come on, wasn’t I the one who dragged you there so things could work out? Right? Please, Rena! I swear I won’t tell anyone. I’m dying of curiosity!”

“Well, if we don’t have too many customers today…”

The moment Riena said it, Sharon nearly collapsed in despair. A waitress must never wish for few customers, yet that was exactly what Rena had just done.

And, as if to punish her, the café was utterly swamped all day.

But even so, Sharon bustled about far lighter in spirit than before.

Because Rena was truly back. Greeting each guest with warmth, preparing tea, coffee, and pastries with calm yet deft hands—her kindness filled every corner of the shop.

It was a day worth celebrating—the day both Rena and the café returned to normal.

***

“The staff have grown much more composed.”

“! Yes, Your Grace. Truly, not a single day went by without them practicing here in the banquet hall during every break! I thought they had improved, but for you to notice as well—it’s such a relief.”

The manager beamed as the Grand Duke praised his efforts.

“Well done.”

With a faint smile, the Duke strode forward. Callis glanced at the clock.

11:30. A perfect hour to sample the luncheon course.

When the Duke seated himself at the prepared table, the dishes came one after another—appetizers to dessert, served all at once, as before.

He tasted each in silence, washing it down at last with a light sip of white wine.

All the while, the head chef stood trembling, sneaking anxious glances at him. His shoulders sagged with nerves, his spirits still fragile.

Finally, the Duke set down his cutlery and dabbed his lips with the napkin before rising slowly.

Ah. It’s wrong again today… Callis, the chef, and the rest of the staff all thought as one.

“…Thank you for the meal.”

“…Pardon?”

The chef nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected words. He wasn’t alone—every staff member, even Callis, gaped in shock.

“Y-Your Grace. Was it… to your taste?”

The chef’s voice trembled, but not with fear—only with nervous joy.

“Yes. The seafood and fruit were fresh, and the flavors not too heavy. Quite good. Well done.”

With that, the Duke turned away.

He didn’t see what Callis did—the way the staff quivered with barely contained cries of joy, stamping their feet like children.

“Callis.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Have the reports on everything that needs inspection before opening prepared. Especially the matters I must see myself—set those aside.”

“At once, Your Grace!”

Callis replied with vigor. The Duke nodded lightly, then withdrew into the master suite attached to his office.

When Callis finally descended to the annex lobby, he stepped out of the lift with a grin stretching his face.

Just like the manager, just like the chef, he barely held back a scream of elation, stamping his feet in delight.

The Grand Duke was back.

Those hellish days were finally over.

Taking deep breaths to calm himself, Callis suddenly froze mid-thought.

Wait. Did His Grace meet that woman? When?

He frowned. Just last night, when Callis had reported in, the Duke had still been like a demon.

Then—he realized, aghast—it must have been last night.

But the Duke hadn’t left the resort. Which meant…

She came here.

The woman who had dared slap the Duke.

Eyes rolling, Callis mulled it over. That woman, who could transform a cold-blooded man in an instant, who could toy with his mood so easily… She was astonishing, and so was the sight of the Duke submitting to it.

But what did it matter?

If the Duke’s moods no longer tormented him, if work became easier, that was all Callis cared about.

He briefly considered sending a secret letter to the Behern estate’s steward—but dismissed it. Best to feign ignorance and enjoy the peace.

***

“You called, my lord.”

“How fares the situation in Behern?”

“It appears the Duke has yet to return. We tried contacting the estate under an alias, but the only reply was that his schedule is too occupied for a meeting.”

“There’s no doubt, then.”

Norman’s eyes gleamed as he stroked his chin, his habitual smile curling sharp and cold.

Born ruthless, this one. Even after the royal family butchered his parents, he hadn’t flinched. He’d even accepted a title directly from them.

Not just the title—the Behern estate, its servants, its wealth—all had been gifts of the crown.

Of course, the royal family had not given them freely. But the terms had been loose, full of cracks.

That was why a man could drag some street-beggar woman into his house, play at being a Grand Duke, and dare mock the kingdom itself.

Dare.

Dare to mock us—the true masters of this realm.

Norman’s eyes flashed, vicious and hungry.

He had no idea what the Duke was doing now, but it boded no good.

Before the Duke’s influence grew any further, his title had to be stripped. Already, vast trade networks lay in his hands.

“My lord… forgive me, but what if the Duke accepts the conditions?”

“Then we must draw him in. Before anyone else.”

Norman’s voice was icy. His lips curved into a predatory smile as he smacked them thoughtfully.

Even if the Duke agreed and retained his title—it would serve Norman better.

Because then, he could finally wed his daughter to the man.

And when that happened, Behern’s wealth, its business, the crown, and the kingdom itself would all fall into Winfield’s grasp.

Excuses were easy to manufacture. A single petty scandal—that would be enough. Enough to shatter Behern’s grieving people with the betrayal of their Grand Duke.

That would be the day he was dragged into the dirt.

Norman’s eyes gleamed with ambition, dark and sharp.

“The moment the Duke returns to Behern, set spies upon him. Find out who he meets, what he does—every last detail.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Norman could hardly wait for the day that arrogant, insolent Grand Duke would bow at his feet, his proud face twisted in ruin.