Chapter 44
“Oh? Your Highness, what’s with all these cookies?”
Calis, who had come up to the office for the delayed lunch report, blinked at the desk piled high with cookies. He had never seen His Highness eat snacks like this before. Curiosity got the better of him, and he craned his neck to peer more closely.
The cookies were beautifully baked, each one individually wrapped and tied neatly with a ribbon. As Calis examined them, a sudden realization struck him. Slowly, he leaned back, his eyes darting side to side.
These must be from that woman.
The moment the thought crossed his mind, another followed immediately.
If I act like I know, I’ll get my head chopped off.
Cold sweat trickled down his back as he desperately pretended ignorance, feigning indifference with all his might.
“Take them and hand them out to the staff.”
“Eh? Is that… allowed—thank you, Your Highness!”
“And bring back their opinions.”
“…Their opinions?”
“Ask what they think of the taste, the shape.”
“Ah… understood.”
As the Archduke nonchalantly shuffled through his paperwork, Calis swallowed hard. His stomach churned for no reason at all.
***
“Hello, my name is Noel Chester.”
The young man bowed politely, his freshness and stiff tension marking him as someone newly arrived in the capital.
“Yes, Noel Chester.”
“Yes, Butler! Please take care of me!”
“And where did you say you came from?”
“Florian. You may not have heard of it—it’s a small coastal town in the south, practically the countryside. Haha.”
Florian. The name tugged faintly at the butler’s memory, but he only nodded.
“Very well. Before His Excellency returns, I’ll explain the tasks you’ll be in charge of.”
Noel’s face lit up with anticipation. It was only natural—he had landed a job in Arvern, the great and bustling capital, in the household of none other than the man ranked just beneath the royal family and the Archduke himself!
It was a dream job for most, even if only menial tasks awaited him. Of course, back in his hometown, he had said he’d been hired by a company, not a noble family.
In truth, he owed this position entirely to Sharon—or more precisely, to Sharon’s father, Mayor Lester, who had pulled the strings for him.
“Then, from today onward, as a servant of House Winfield, keep your mouth shut and mind your discretion.”
“Yes, butler. I’ll remember that!”
***
Several days passed. Late spring in Florian was a season of frantic preparation for summer.
The market and city council busied themselves with repairing the docks and coastal roads, while residents near the shore harvested seasonal fruits, seafood, and shellfish. These would later be displayed and sold at the midsummer festival.
The resort, too, was deep in its preparations for opening.
Early one morning, all the staff gathered in the grand banquet hall. Standing atop a temporary podium, Calis raised his voice to address the hundreds before him.
“The restaurant’s course menu must be finalized by today!”
“Yes, understood!”
“Also, finish cleaning and checking the main building, including guest rooms. Don’t forget to inspect the amenities prepared for each room.”
He carried himself with the air of a true manager. Once Calis finished rattling off instructions, the resort’s owner—Archduke Venachert—stepped gracefully onto the stage.
His tailored black suit fit him flawlessly, and with his crisp, effortless poise, he radiated refined elegance. His slicked-back golden hair caught the chandelier’s light, gleaming. His sharp golden eyes swept over the crowd.
The room fell utterly silent in his presence.
“You’ve all worked hard,” Dante began slowly. “In one month, La Floriena will officially open its doors with a grand ceremony. All you need to do is show the fruits of your preparation. Once the peak season ends, you’ll each receive vacation time, along with a performance bonus.”
A hum of excitement rippled through the hall.
“Remember this: every single one of you here represents the dignity of La Floriena. You’ve done well so far. I trust you’ll continue.”
The Archduke’s short speech ended, and thunderous applause filled the hall, the air thick with morale.
Only one month remained until La Floriena Resort’s grand opening.
“Just a little longer now. Congratulations, Your Highness,” Calis said hoarsely, overcome with emotion as soon as Dante returned to his office.
The Archduke merely lifted a brow in reply.
“‘Your Highness’ doesn’t quite suit me anymore. I own a resort now.”
“Ah, then… should I call you President instead?”
Truth be told, Dante had planted that very thought himself. President. He mulled it over briefly before nodding.
“Yes. That’s better. ‘Archduke’ is just a title.”
“Yes, President!”
Rushing things always backfired. It was wiser to shift perceptions gradually, and a change in title was the first step.
No longer Archduke Venachert, but President Dante Venachert of La Floriena.
By the time people grew accustomed to the word President, that woman too would no longer be called Archduchess. She would be called by her own name.
The life you want—I’ll make it for you. Even if, to you, it feels like a lie… so what? By then, you’ll have no way out.
If she truly wanted to escape, she should never have crossed his path. Or she should never have left him an opening.
Dante smirked faintly and rose from his chair.
“Where are you going?”
“Market research. Don’t follow me—do your work.”
The gentle air vanished, replaced by his usual sharpness. Calis grimaced in secret.
Just say you’re going to meet her. I won’t tell anyone.
But once again, he only bowed obediently.
“Yes, then I’ll be off. The manager will need help with the inspections.”
“Go. Quickly.”
“Yes, yes.” Calis shrugged and bowed again.
Compared to the suffocating days a year ago, this was far better. Still, he was worried. It’s too soon for his face to be seen here…
“Well, His Highness knows what he’s doing. He’s not some clueless boy.”
Muttering under his breath, Calis strode back toward the main building.
***
“Oh, for heaven’s sake… again? Riena.”
Sharon frowned the moment she spotted the familiar figure outside while watering the potted plants. Realizing she was being too obvious, she quickly smoothed her expression and called out.
“Yes?”
“You’ve got a visitor.”
“Visitor? Who—”
Who else? Sharon clicked her tongue and subtly pointed outside.
Riena’s eyes widened as she followed Sharon’s finger. Tossing aside her gloves, she hurriedly whispered, “I’ll be right back…”
“Go on, I’ll cover the counter,” Sharon said with a quiet smile. Take your time. I’m rooting for you.
“Your Highness!”
Flustered, Riena dashed outside to greet Dante.
“Slowly.”
Leaning casually against a gleaming white car, Dante chuckled at the sight of her rushing toward him. The sun glinted off the car’s polished surface, and his golden eyes shimmered under the light.
Riena froze mid-step, struck by the dazzling scene. It felt dreamlike, almost unreal.
Shaking herself, she resumed walking until she stood before him. Dante raised a brow.
“Why are you calling me ‘Your Highness’ again?”
“…What?”
“You called me ‘you, you’ before. Why go back to ‘Your Highness’?”
Riena’s cheeks flamed red as she stammered soundlessly. What kind of childish nitpicking is this?
And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling—this man before her wasn’t the same one she used to know.
His entire demeanor was different. Even after years by his side, he now felt unfamiliar, almost like a stranger.
Finally, Riena managed to stutter, “W-well, someone might hear. Please, Your Highness.”
“True. It’d be troublesome if someone overheard.”
Dante’s lips curved smoothly as he opened the passenger door.
“So get in. Before anyone sees.”
“W-what?!” Riena waved her hands frantically, shaking her head.
“No, I can’t! I’m working right now, Your Highness.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine!” Her voice firmed with rare determination. Leaving work without permission was unthinkable.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“I’ll show you the sea.”
“I can see the sea from here.”
Even as he coaxed her, she remained resolute.
“Tsk.” Dante clicked his tongue, shutting the door with a snap, muttering inwardly about Lady Margaret teaching her too much stubbornness.
“Very well, Miss Riena. Then when would you be available?” His voice grew exaggeratedly polite, as though addressing a noble lady.
“Your Highness, are you teasing me?”
“No. I just don’t like it.”
Riena narrowed her eyes. Anyone who saw Archduke Venachert right now would think the same thing—
He was sulking like a ten-year-old boy.
