INWY~83

Chapter 83

“So, you’ll be coming to Arbern soon then. How about meeting President Delarube while you’re there?”

“The president of Delarube Company… that would be Miss Lucia Delarube, who inherited the business a few years ago, correct?”

“That’s right. President Lucia has been eager to meet you, Your Grace. And I thought you might also enjoy seeing the new brewing technique she’s developed firsthand.”

Without a word, Dante merely lifted an eyebrow and took another sip of his coffee.

The Delarube family, who ran the brewing company of the same name, had long been a direct supplier to the royal family.

It was precisely because of that that Dante had deliberately excluded them from the resort’s vendor list.

It was only natural. A family that close to the royal household would inevitably be touched by their influence—an influence Dante wanted nowhere near his projects.

Setting down his coffee cup, Dante’s gaze drifted toward Riena, who was walking back to her table, carefully holding sandwiches in both hands for the soldier.

When he turned his attention back to the businessman, his tone was calm, unhurried.

“Since you’ve spoken so highly of it, Mr. Twain, I’ll consider meeting her.”

“Yes! An excellent decision, Your Grace. I’ll arrange the schedule and send a telegram as soon as I return.”

The man’s broad grin was almost comical. Securing an audience with the kingdom’s most influential investor would certainly boost his own prestige.

“Do that, then. …Ah, it’s already this late.”

Dante glanced meaningfully at his watch, and the businessman caught on instantly, bowing hastily.

“It was an honor to meet you, Your Grace.”

“You may go ahead. I have a few things to discuss privately with my aide.”

At his words, the businessman sprang up, grinning from ear to ear, and after another deep bow, hurried out of the café with an excited stride.

Dante waited until the man had fully disappeared through the door before slowly standing from his seat.

“Stay here.”

“Yes, sir,” Callis murmured, shoulders hunched.

Their break wasn’t even twenty minutes long, but Callis knew better than to try stopping the Duke once he had decided where to go.

He could only pray silently that everything stayed calm—and that His Grace returned on time—while pulling out a stack of documents.



“So, you were injured… while trying to rescue your fellow soldiers?”

“Yes. Honestly, it was a hopeless situation at that point, but I figured I should try anyway.”

Henry spoke softly, recounting the tragedies of the sudden civil war that had broken out after his return to duty, and the bravery of the Bermark soldiers.

Perhaps because of the heavy topic, Riena’s expression grew increasingly somber. Seeing that, Henry forced a faint smile.

“But I’m almost completely healed now. See?”

He exaggeratedly waved his arm, still wrapped thickly in bandages. The sight drew a small, reluctant laugh from Riena.

“Henry, careful. You’ll end up breaking it again at this rate.”

“Anything’s better than a bullet wound.”

Henry chuckled. His easy humor made Riena’s shoulders relax a little, though her eyes soon turned thoughtful.

“Henry… are you living with your family now?”

“No. My parents passed away, and my younger sister is at boarding school.”

“So you’re living alone?”

Riena’s eyes widened.

How could someone with that many injuries possibly manage everything on his own?

“Are you eating properly? You must have chores to do too…”

Her voice was laced with concern as she glanced meaningfully at his bandaged arm. There was simply no way he could handle daily life comfortably like that.

Henry, noticing her worried expression, smiled even brighter.

“It’s a bit inconvenient, but not impossible. The lady from the flower shop often cooks for me.”

“Oh…”

At the mention of someone familiar, Riena hesitated, slightly flustered.

Come to think of it, that same lady had been under the mistaken impression that she and Henry were involved…

Nodding awkwardly, Riena tried to gauge his reaction.

Henry was never good at hiding his emotions—if he had known about the misunderstanding, he would’ve apologized to her immediately.

And besides, bringing it up herself would’ve been far too embarrassing.

Instead, she asked lightly, “Hmm, is there anything I can help you with? I’m not as good a cook as that lady, but I could help with laundry or cleaning. It must be hard doing it all alone.”

“Pardon? Oh, no, I can’t possibly ask you to do something like that.”

Henry’s eyes widened before his expression stiffened.

Of course, he would have liked any excuse to see her again—but letting her do housework for him? Unthinkable.

“I just want to return the favor somehow, Henry.”

It was then that—

“There you are, Miss Bronte.”

A familiar voice cut cleanly through their conversation.

Startled, Riena nearly dropped her glass of juice.

Looking up, she found Dante Venachert standing beside their table, wearing that polite, society-perfect smile she’d only ever seen at banquets.

It didn’t even register that he’d just used her surname.

For a few seconds, she could only blink, lips parted soundlessly—before abruptly turning to Henry.

He was already stiff as a board, his face hard as stone, eyes sharp as a drawn blade.

Riena’s mind buzzed with alarm.

Henry had met Dante before—at that military farewell banquet years ago, when she had attended as Dante’s wife.

As she slowly pieced together the memory, she glanced back up at Dante. His gaze was already locked on Henry.

And from the slight tilt of his head, it was clear he didn’t appreciate the soldier’s openly hostile glare.

Panic flashing through her, Riena blurted out, “Didn’t you say you were meeting someone earlier?”

“Ah, yes. We just finished. I was about to leave, but I thought I’d stop by to greet Miss Bronte.”

Dante’s eyes slid back to her as his lips curved in a smooth, polite smile.

Gentle tone. Perfect manners.

Riena felt a strange certainty then—he truly didn’t remember who Henry was.

Swallowing hard, she turned toward Henry, silently pleading with her eyes.

Please, just play along.

“Ah, Henry. This is—”

“I know.”

Henry’s jaw tightened, his voice low but edged.

Riena’s heart dropped to her stomach. She frowned slightly, giving him a tiny warning glance.

But Henry’s gaze never wavered from Dante.

Finally, he spoke again.

“You’re the owner of that flashy resort, aren’t you?”

His words were blunt, almost mocking.

Dante’s lips twitched faintly. “Ha. I’m surprised you recognized me. My resort does stand out, doesn’t it? And yet you still have your eyesight. Impressive.”

His golden eyes flashed dangerously, sharp as molten metal.

Henry didn’t back down; his stare was just as fierce.

Caught between the two, Riena’s face was rapidly losing color.

Henry’s reckless provocation of the Duke—his superior—was unthinkable.

And Dante, suddenly ambushed and insulted, had every reason to return the offense.

This was a disaster waiting to happen.

Riena’s eyes darted frantically around the café.

Where on earth is Callis right now?!

Then, across the room, she spotted him—staring at them from a diagonal table, mouth agape in silent horror.

Riena instantly knew.

If anyone was going to stop this before it exploded—it had to be her.

Forcing a shaky breath, she gave up on signaling Callis and instead mustered a strained smile.

“…Thank you for coming all this way, sir. I’m sure you’re very busy.”

It was polite enough on the surface, but the meaning was unmistakable: Please, leave.

Dante, however, ignored the hint entirely.

Still wearing that refined smile, he glanced at his watch and replied evenly,

“I happen to have a bit of time before my next appointment. Would you mind if I joined you for a while, Miss Bronte?”

“…What?”

Riena could only gape—exactly like Callis had, moments earlier.