Chapter 73
By the time the uproar surrounding Duke Venachert’s new resort, La Floriena, had begun to quiet down across the capital and Behern, new news arrived in the kingdom.
“The war is over!”
“Then the Beremark troops are coming home? Their families must be overjoyed!”
A civil war that had broken out abroad had finally come to an end. Because of the defense treaty between nations, Beremark’s army had been dispatched there for over a year and a half.
Those who had soldiers as family or lovers shouted with joy.
And soon, that same news reached Florian.
“Rena! Look at this—hurry!”
Riena, who had been hanging freshly washed blankets out in the bright sun, sighed helplessly at Sharon’s excited shout.
Didn’t I tell her not to run like that…?
Sharon came dashing across the yard, panting heavily as she reached Riena, but even while gasping for breath, she tried desperately to speak.
“Huff—did you—hear—oh, you didn’t, of course you didn’t—huff—”
“Sharon, wait a second. Let me get you some water—”
“No! No, you have to—huff—hear this first!”
Still breathless, Sharon waved the newspaper in her hand. After taking a moment to catch her breath, she finally straightened her back.
“Read it! Hurry!”
“Alright, alright—stop shaking it in my face.”
Letting out a small laugh at Sharon’s impatience, Riena took the paper herself and lowered her gaze to the bold headline.
<Peace Declared! The Triumphant Return of the Beremark Army!>
It was a simple, unmistakable line. The foreign civil war that had begun a year ago had ended. Which meant—
“The war is finally over, Rena!”
Beaming, Sharon grabbed Riena’s arm and shook it excitedly.
The reason for her joy was simple. Many in Florian had family serving in the military, and with the war over, the sea routes closed by conflict would reopen for trade.
Riena hesitated before asking quietly,
“Then… that means the navy’s returning too, right?”
“Of course! You didn’t read the rest of the article, did you? It says the navy was the first to come back. Most of them should arrive within two days!”
Still dazed, Riena clutched the newspaper to her chest and smiled.
“That’s a relief…”
The war was over. Beremark’s navy was coming home. Lieutenant Bailey was coming home.
As she let out a long sigh of relief, Riena’s smile wavered.
It was a blessing that she would see the lieutenant again—but at the same time, a part of her wished she wouldn’t.
She hadn’t much time left, and her thinner frame no longer looked healthy.
With a bittersweet smile, she lifted her head and forced herself to brighten.
“Will Florian hold a homecoming ceremony too?”
“Of course! Same as Sermar. Lots of the navy boys are from Florian, so you’ll see people hugging each other all over the town square!”
If she was going to meet him again anyway, she wanted to greet him with joy. What came after… she could think about later. For now, she was grateful she still had a little time left.
“Can I help with the preparations for the ceremony?”
“You, Rena? Ah…”
Tilting her head, Sharon let out a small sigh. Right, there was that man who had brought Rena here…
“Well, if you’re fine with it, then of course! The more hands, the better.”
Sharon laughed awkwardly, darting her eyes aside.
This should be fine… right?
Then a thought struck her—a wild, dangerous, dramatic thought.
Florian was such a quiet place that a bit of scandal would be a welcome thrill. A love triangle between their sweet Rena and that insane duke? Oh, she’d pay to see that.
But then she remembered who that insane duke was.
Her grin slowly melted away.
Recalling how Noel once tried to flirt with her and ended up with his collar grabbed by the throat, Sharon shuddered.
No. I have to stop this. Even if it costs me my entertainment—Florian’s peace must be protected!
With sudden resolve, Sharon clasped Riena’s hands tightly.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure no… accidents happen this time!”
“Accidents?”
“There are things like that. Don’t worry about it, Rena.”
At Sharon’s ominous tone, a faint sense of dread crept up Riena’s spine. Whenever Sharon spoke so confidently, something always went wrong.
“…Alright. Thanks for the news anyway.”
It had been an exhausting week.
Dante sat in his office, cigar smoke curling around him, his brow furrowed.
The grand opening of La Floriena had been a success, and word of it spread like wildfire. Since then, nobles from Behern had begun returning to their estates—or rather, rushing to the resort in Florian.
Each had their own excuse, but in truth, they were all eager to escape the dull social season in Behern. Even Dante, despite himself, was trapped here by work.
It was only natural. Until the resort fully stabilized, every detail had to be overseen by one man—its owner, Dante Venachert.
And with only Callis as his capable aide, he was drowning in work. For the first time in ages, even Dante was feeling the weight of exhaustion.
He tried to ease his fatigue with the occasional cigar, but that could only do so much.
He already knew what the real cure was.
Snuffing out the half-burned cigar, he pulled another from the box and spoke without looking up.
“Callis.”
“…Yes, sir? Should I bring you another coffee?”
Callis lifted his weary head, his face shadowed with exhaustion. He’d been handling the same mountain of work alongside his boss, and it showed.
If even the Duke—known for superhuman endurance—was worn out, then what hope did Callis have? He felt like death itself.
People said you could die from lack of sleep, and at this rate, he was about to prove it true. Yet he couldn’t even complain, not when the man beside him had slept even less.
And if he did dare to complain, who knew what disaster would follow? So Callis bit his tongue and kept working.
When Dante gave no response, Callis blinked, trying to think through the haze of exhaustion.
“…Pardon?”
He’d missed the subject.
As his glasses slipped down his nose, realization struck—and his eyes widened in alarm.
“No! Absolutely not! What about all these reports, sir?”
“It’ll be faster if I go myself.”
The pen had long been tossed aside. Dante had already destroyed several of them from stress alone—he’d lost count.
That much could be dismissed as the excesses of a wealthy man. But this… this was different.
Forgetting his place entirely, Callis raised his voice.
“You can’t! Please, sir, the managers from the palace are due to arrive tomorrow! Just wait until then!”
A week ago, Callis had sent a telegram to the royal palace at Dante’s order, requesting support from the management division.
But since those executives each had their own duties, they couldn’t come immediately. Only after Callis pleaded desperately, stressing it was urgent, had a few agreed to arrive by tomorrow.
“Move.”
The single word was low, edged with irritation.
Callis swallowed hard.
“If you go now… Her Grace won’t be pleased. You know what she’s like!”
For a heartbeat, the golden fire in Dante’s eyes flickered out, his temper cooling just slightly.
It worked—Callis’s gamble had paid off.
The tension in Dante’s jaw eased. With a deep exhale, he muttered a curse under his breath.
Of all people, Dante knew best what Riena was like. If she found out he’d dropped everything to come running, she’d be angry—furiously angry.
A sliver of reason returned.
Still… the fact that only two weeks without her had driven him this far was ridiculous, even to him.
He sighed, rubbing his temple, and for a brief moment, allowed himself a bitter smile.
Pathetic.
