Chapter 60
A strange, ticklish sort of air filled the room.
In the end, it was Riena who broke the silence first.
“What about your work?”
“I should do it.”
“…Don’t tell me you really stayed in this room the whole time?”
“I did.”
At Dante’s calm, almost indifferent reply, Riena felt dizzy.
So when he’d said he was waiting for her to wake up, he’d meant literally—without budging an inch.
“You could’ve called someone else. No one here would know who I am anyway, as long as you didn’t tell them.”
“Someone else?”
His voice was low and even, but there was a chill to it.
“While you were unconscious, someone had to feed you medicine, give you water, and wipe your body to bring your fever down.”
Riena froze.
“Who exactly should I have called to see and touch your bare body?”
She wondered if she had misheard him. How could he say such shameless things with that utterly composed face?
Riena’s face turned bright red, her lips opening and closing soundlessly. Dante, gazing down at her, frowned.
Annoyance prickled beneath his skin—along with another feeling he didn’t care to name. In the end, he rose from his seat.
“I’ll call the doctor. Rest.”
When Dante left the room, Riena sat there dazed for a while before collapsing face-first into the bed.
She pulled the blanket over her face, then kicked it off again when it got too hot.
She tossed and turned like that for quite some time, screaming internally the whole while.
Before she knew it, morning had come.
Now she was sitting upright, being examined by the doctor Dante had summoned.
“As I said before, you can start with porridge. In a day or two, light meals will be fine. You no longer need high-dose medication, but if you feel feverish or sore again, take the prescribed pills.”
“Thank you.”
Riena nodded obediently.
The doctor gave a brief nod in return, rose, and left the room. Watching his retreating back, Riena tilted her head.
“He didn’t ask a single question. Like how this happened, or anything…”
“He does what he’s paid for,” Dante muttered dryly.
But it wasn’t just that. Even though the doctor had treated her while she was unconscious, he hadn’t seemed to notice anything strange about her.
Her heartbeat had always been slower than normal. Was it because she was still taking the medicine the old man had given her?
Riena was frowning in thought when—
Knock, knock.
A voice came from beyond the door.
“Your Grace, it’s Callis.”
Riena’s eyes widened. Callis? The aide who always followed the Grand Duke around—the one she’d often seen at the Behern Palace.
Panicking, Riena clutched Dante’s sleeve, mouthing soundlessly, What do we do?
But Dante, glancing down at her with his usual languid expression, simply said,
“Come in.”
Click.
Riena flinched and lowered her head as the door opened.
“Your Grace. I’m so relieved to hear Her Ladyship has awakened.”
…What?
Riena’s head snapped up in shock. The familiar manager, Callis, smiled softly and bowed.
“It’s been a while, my lady. You may not remember me, but I’m Callis—the one who used to serve at Behern Palace.”
His calm, perfectly natural tone only deepened Riena’s confusion. She turned to Dante, who looked as composed as ever—if not slightly annoyed.
“Bring breakfast,” Dante ordered. “Something soft.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Stop by the annex and bring the documents and a change of clothes.”
“Yes, sir. Ah, also—there was a telegram from the palace.”
Callis sighed and handed him a folded letter.
“Duke Winfield expressed his regrets and asked that you attend the next meeting without fail. And also…”
He tilted his head as he continued,
“He wrote that, should a banquet ever be held, he’d appreciate an invitation.”
“An invitation?”
“Yes. I’m not sure what kind, perhaps just a polite formality.”
“That old man doesn’t say anything ‘just polite.’”
Dante smirked. He’d felt uneasy ever since Winfield had urged him to attend that council meeting.
“Tch.” Dante clicked his tongue softly. “So a leak, then.”
A leak?
Riena blinked in confusion, glancing between him and Callis.
“Your Grace! I swear it wasn’t me—absolutely not!” Callis stammered, flustered.
Dante only crossed his arms, tapping his fingers lightly against his sleeve. Tracking the source now would be nearly impossible.
If their secret had been exposed—how far, and to whom? That was the real question.
He organized his thoughts quickly. They needed someone discreet yet swift.
“Send a telegram to Sir Hudson. Tell him to contact Captain Evan Rames.”
“…Understood!” Callis straightened, still looking puzzled, and hurried to obey.
“Then I’ll deliver the message right away. Please rest, both of you, Your Grace.”
“Keep the next two days clear.”
“…Pardon?”
Callis froze mid-step, staring at Dante and Riena in turn.
The Grand Duke looked irritated; the Grand Duchess looked bewildered, hanging on every word.
With a deep sigh, Callis bit his tongue and swiftly exited the room.
Once in the corridor, he groaned under his breath.
The Grand Duke’s lost it again.
As soon as he was gone, Riena looked up at Dante through narrowed eyes.
“So you were lying about not being busy.”
“No.”
“Duke Winfield… he’s the Chancellor, right? Were you supposed to return to the capital?”
“Mm.”
His short, unhelpful answers made her want to tear her hair out.
Even she, though far removed from the capital, knew that the Chancellor and Grand Duke Dante Venachert were sworn enemies.
Everyone at the palace knew.
And yet here he was, acting carelessly, practically handing his enemies a reason to attack.
Riena frowned and pressed on.
“Your Grace, why are you acting so unlike yourself lately?”
“Unlike myself?”
“You’ve always put work first. I appreciate that you took care of me, truly—but you didn’t have to go this far.”
Her words came out sharp, a little too fast.
“And really, no one goes to such lengths for someone they hate.”
“Do you always nag this much?”
…Nag?
Riena’s mouth fell open at the absurdity of it.
“I must’ve grown too comfortable, Riena. You’ve started forgetting your place.”
The words were harsh, but a faint trace of amusement flickered in his eyes.
Riena exhaled deeply, her brows drooping. She took a small breath, gathering herself before speaking rapidly, as if emptying her thoughts all at once.
“Thank you for taking care of me, Your Grace. I’ll eat properly and rest, so you don’t have to worry. I’ll return home this afternoon.”
Dante’s brows creased slightly. He didn’t seem pleased.
“Home?”
“Yes. I can’t keep imposing on you.”
“I can’t just let a lady who spent two days delirious with fever walk out.”
“…What?”
“At the very least, I’m still a gentleman.”
Riena blinked, speechless. A gentleman? Really?
Whenever he spoke like that, she knew better than to argue—he never took her words at face value anyway.
“…But still—”
She trailed off, unable to finish. For some reason, her mind went blank.
After a moment of thought, she asked quietly,
“Then… how long am I supposed to stay here?”
“Exactly as the doctor said. Until you can handle light meals. Two days, minimum. We need to monitor your condition.”
“The doctor exaggerated. I’m fine, really. There’s no chance of a relapse.”
“Still, you’re not the doctor, Riena. I tend to trust the professionals.”
Her temples throbbed. Arguing with him was pointless—he was too stubborn, too immovable.
Then a sudden thought struck her.
“…Wait. You’re not planning to stay here the whole time too, are you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
His brows furrowed again, his tone slightly defensive.
Of course you shouldn’t! Riena barely restrained herself from shouting it aloud.
Instead, she spoke as calmly as she could.
“It would be uncomfortable sharing a room with you, Your Grace.”
“That’s strange. It’s not as if I intend to touch you.”
Her cheeks flushed crimson. Why does he always say things like that?!
Riena scowled, mortified, as he looked at her with infuriating calm.
