Chapter 67
When all the ceremonies ended and the lights brightened once more, Your Grace Dante Venachert, the owner of La Floriena, appeared again in the center of the grand banquet hall.
While the proud nobles glanced around, pretending to keep their composure, some hurried toward him with shining eyes.
“Your Grace, this is truly magnificent! When on earth did you start planning such an incredible enterprise?”
Even as they swarmed around him, Dante’s lips curved in a faint, elegant smile. He faced them with the same calm grace as ever.
“You flatter me. Please, enjoy the opening celebration. Afterward, my staff will guide you to your rooms so you can rest comfortably.”
“My word—our rooms are prepared as well?”
“Of course. You’ve all come a long way, so think of nothing else and enjoy yourselves.”
As Dante’s golden eyes swept across their delighted faces, a quiet chuckle rose in his chest. It was a small token of appreciation—for keeping his secret for a month.
In a few days, when these nobles returned to Behern and Arbern, they would each have their own stories to tell about this resort.
Not that he’d have to wait that long; even now, a group of journalists from the royal press were approaching.
They were there by Dante’s own invitation—some from smaller publications, and even one from the paper that had spread the rumor about his marital discord.
He didn’t bother to distinguish between them.
After a brief round of polite questions and answers, Dante noticed the mayor of Lester standing awkwardly at the edge of the hall.
Lifting an eyebrow, Dante composed his expression and strode toward him.
The mayor stiffened as Dante approached, tension plain on his face.
“It’s been a while, Mayor Lester.”
“Ah, yes, Your Grace. Congratulations. I wasn’t sure if… I really belonged at such a grand event.”
His tone was hesitant, almost defeated, as he looked around at the splendid nobles and the reporters from the capital.
But Dante saw no reason to take offense. He merely lifted the corners of his mouth and spoke pleasantly.
“You granted permission for the resort project here in Florian. Of course you should be invited. Ah, I should introduce you.”
As a few nobles approached, Dante gestured toward the mayor.
“This is Mayor Lester of Florian. We owe much of today’s success to him.”
The nobles blinked, surprised. Never before had the Grand Duke of Venachert openly praised anyone like this—least of all a small-town mayor from the outskirts of the kingdom.
Even Lester himself looked bewildered. Until recently, this same Grand Duke had been… rather intimidating.
Then Dante bent his head slightly, murmuring low enough for only the mayor to hear.
“You remember my words, don’t you? Don’t do anything to ruin your reputation. Do your best to entertain them.”
The mayor lifted his head reluctantly. His face had gone pale. Dante’s eyes, cold as ever, met his.
Leaving Lester to face the incoming nobles, Dante resumed walking.
Each person here was a chess piece he could make use of later.
Then, suddenly, his steps stopped.
He raised his gaze toward the fifth-floor balcony box.
The lighting there was dim, deliberately so. But he knew—Riena was up there.
Without hesitation, Dante began striding across the hall.
***
From the box seat above, Riena watched him cross the hall, a faint smile on her lips.
She had seen everything—his opening speech, the way he handled the nobles, every gesture, every word.
And honestly?
He looked breathtaking.
It wasn’t just his godlike features. Every little movement, every slight expression, made him seem like someone from another world.
The composed greetings, the effortless conversation—everything reminded her of the man she had once glimpsed at his side long ago.
He hadn’t changed at all, not then, not now.
And she… had always been so small beside him.
Unable to speak properly among nobles, shrinking away from the world.
How pathetic must she have looked in his eyes?
The box seat was a blessing. Here, she didn’t have to meet anyone’s gaze or stand beside that radiant man only to dull the atmosphere.
This distance suited her.
She would never stand before them again anyway…
Yet she couldn’t help but think—if only I hadn’t been so greedy back then.
She had fallen for a man far too extraordinary for her the moment she first saw him.
Who could forget a golden-haired noble who had offered a gold coin to a shivering girl on a frozen winter street?
Years later—ten long years of struggling to survive—she had seen him again, crossing the Behern Bridge in his carriage.
The instant that golden hair glimmered in the sunlight, she had run into the street without thinking.
“Please, help me.”
The carriage screeched to a halt, barely missing her. A man stepped out—the same golden hair, the same unreadable eyes.
She had thought he’d be angry.
Instead, he only looked down at her, silent.
Even as she begged, he merely frowned faintly.
“Please… please help me.”
“Why should I?”
His eyes had been empty—cold, emotionless. Had they always been that way?
In her panic, she had blurted out the only thing she could remember from an old book she’d once read at a village doctor’s house.
“Noblesse oblige… Surely someone like you knows what that means.”
Noblesse oblige. Those of high birth and power bear a moral duty to act with honor.
He was the only one who had ever shown her such grace—ten years ago, and even now, he still seemed to embody that ideal.
At her words, he had turned back.
His golden eyes—so like his hair—swept slowly over her trembling form.
She had clenched her fists to hide the shaking, forcing herself to meet his gaze.
And at last, he had spoken, just one short sentence before returning to his carriage.
It had been their first meeting in ten years—one he probably didn’t even remember.
Now, recalling it, Riena could finally smile without pain.
That memory no longer hurt; it felt like a distant, tender dream.
Her lips curved unconsciously as the warmth spread through her chest—
“Riena, are you enjoying yourself?”
She flinched. Her shoulders trembled as she spun around.
The man she had been watching moments ago now stood right behind her, gazing down at her with a teasing expression.
“Wh–when did you get here?”
“Just now.”
Dante arched a brow and sat beside her, close enough for their shoulders to almost touch.
“What were you thinking about, so lost in thought you didn’t notice me?”
“I—I wasn’t lost in thought!”
“Oh really? Then who were you thinking about?”
His golden eyes deepened, his face inching closer. So close that if he leaned in just a bit more, their noses would touch.
Riena jerked back, waving her hands frantically.
“N–no one! I was just… admiring the hall! And all the nobles, it’s been a while since I’ve seen such a sight!”
“Is that so? Then why’s your face red?”
Dante chuckled softly. The box seat wasn’t completely dark—it had soft lighting like an opera house.
His gaze drifted from her flushed cheeks downward.
Riena was wearing the dress he had sent her.
He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly along the chiffon fabric that fluttered like wings. The pale blue suited her perfectly.
When his gaze lifted again, the sapphire necklace around her throat gleamed softly under the light.
Dante’s lips curved into a lazy smile.
“Riena,” he murmured, voice low and teasing,
“How long are you going to keep blushing like that?”
