INWY~84

Chapter 84

A strange silence settled over the table. It was a truly awkward combination of people — and it was all because Riena hadn’t been able to refuse Dante’s sudden request to join them.

She replayed the ridiculous chain of events that had led to this moment. 

Of all places, why did he have to have an appointment exactly where she was?

As Riena cast a wary glance at the man sitting beside her, Dante lifted his freshly served cup of coffee with an elegant hand and smiled.

“Please, don’t mind me. Continue your conversation.”

Riena swallowed a sigh. 

She could feel the words of protest rising in her throat. 

How could anyone talk comfortably when His Grace is sitting right here?

“The one making everyone uncomfortable is you, Your Grace. Don’t you think that’s rather contradictory?” Henry’s tone was sharp, his gaze unflinching. “Isn’t that right, Rena?”

For a moment, Riena thought she’d accidentally said those words aloud. 

Her eyes widened in shock as she frantically gestured to Henry.

What are you doing, Henry?!

“Ah, forgive me. I’ve lived too long without caring about what others think.” Dante’s low chuckle followed. “But you’re being rather insolent yourself, aren’t you, Miss Bronte?”

When his calm, teasing voice turned toward her, Riena could only close her eyes. 

She didn’t understand why the two men were suddenly locking horns like children — but just watching them made her head throb.

It was all so absurd. Dante’s reaction was unexpected enough, but seeing Henry like this was completely new to her.

Letting out a soft sigh, Riena picked up her juice — which had already separated into layers — and took a long gulp.

A droplet rolled down the glass and fell onto her skirt. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Henry silently hand her a napkin. 

Even when upset, he couldn’t help but show kindness.

Just as Riena reached for it—

Dante’s hand moved first. Without hesitation, he brushed away the droplets from her skirt himself, catching the rest that slid from the cup with his palm. 

His lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.

Riena froze, flustered, and quickly set her cup down. What the…!

With Henry watching, she couldn’t even glare at Dante. Her jaw tightened in silent frustration — and then she kicked him under the table.

Dante let out a short laugh.

“Another juice, please,” he said smoothly, gesturing to the passing waiter as if nothing had happened.

By then, Henry had already withdrawn his offered hand.

“How do you two know each other?” Henry asked suddenly.

Both Dante and Riena turned to him at the exact same time.

“…Excuse me?”

It was a short question, but its weight was clear to Riena. What Henry truly meant was — How did you meet him again?

She forced herself to think quickly. Dante didn’t know Henry, but Henry knew Dante — and Dante had no idea that Henry knew about her past.

Before Dante could speak, Riena jumped in.

“Um… Henry, do you remember when I told you I used to work at a café? The Duke… well, he used to come in as a customer.”

When she said Henry so gently, Dante’s brow twitched ever so slightly. Henry, noticing it, nodded.

“I see. The café by the seaside that I often visited?”

“…Yes.”

It sounded off — the phrasing, the tone, all of it. Riena glanced at Dante nervously. 

His expression didn’t look pleased at all, which made her even more uneasy.

“Here’s your juice,” the waiter announced, setting down a new glass. The awkward silence returned immediately after.

“Actually,” Dante said once the waiter left, “I’m curious as well. How do you know Miss Bronte?”

Leaning back in his chair, Dante clasped his hands over his knee, watching Henry with the calm patience of a predator. 

Even his gaze held the same quiet dominance.

Riena’s heart skipped. 

She shot Henry a warning glance, her brows furrowing. If he said the wrong thing, Dante would put the pieces together instantly.

Henry met her eyes briefly — and then, without changing expression, said, “I believe you have somewhere to be, Your Grace.”

“…What?”

“The lady behind you has been fidgeting for quite some time,” Henry added evenly, nodding toward someone past Dante.

“Forgive me if this seems rude, but I must ask you to excuse us. My hand is still injured, you see.” He lifted his bandaged arm slightly.

It was a clear dismissal — polite, but pointed.

A low chuckle escaped Dante. His lips curved in amusement, but his eyes were cold, assessing. He didn’t even bother glancing behind him. Of course, he knew his schedule; he always did.

Still smiling, Dante rose gracefully from his seat.

“I regret that we can’t continue this conversation. But it seems I must take my leave.”

He adjusted his jacket neatly, then turned to Riena.

“Until next time, Miss Bronte. I’ll keep our promise.”

“Promise?” Riena frowned slightly, confused. What promise? She wanted to ask, but something told her she shouldn’t.

Dante gave her a gentleman’s bow before walking away.

As he passed Henry, he stopped for a moment, letting out a quiet laugh.

“We’ll be seeing each other soon,” he murmured.

The returned officer of Bermark — they were bound to meet again eventually.

Dante patted Henry’s shoulder twice before walking out of the café, Calis following close behind.

Only then did Riena release the breath she’d been holding. It felt as if a storm had just passed.

“Riena,” Henry said softly, watching her with calm eyes.

“Yes? Ah… I’m sorry. That must’ve been uncomfortable. I didn’t expect to see him here either.”

He already knew about the resort, of course — but she doubted he’d ever expected to meet the Duke so suddenly, and like that.

“Are you… going to marry him again?”

“…What?”

The unexpected question made her blink in disbelief.

“No, Henry. Of course not. We just ran into each other a few months ago — by complete coincidence.”

Her voice grew steadier, quiet but firm.

“I’ll explain everything, Henry.”

“I see.”

She told him everything — well, almost everything. 

Everything except a few personal matters she couldn’t bring herself to say aloud.

When she finally fell silent, she sipped her now-lukewarm juice. She’d never spoken so much at once before.

A long pause followed. Henry seemed deep in thought, and Riena didn’t try to break the silence. Still, she couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking — or what he might say next.

It would surely be complicated. After all, Henry had been the one who saved her from that accident and helped her escape.

Even though her accident happened after the annulment, Dante wasn’t the kind of man to overlook such a thing.

Henry was a soldier — a man devoted to his country and people — and Dante’s influence as a Duke reached deep into the military.

If Dante ever found out, there would be consequences. 

Even in the best case, Henry might lose his rank. At worst, he’d be branded with disgrace.

He didn’t deserve that.

To Henry, being a soldier wasn’t just a job. It was an honor, a way of life — one he was proud of, even through pain and injury.

And Dante… Dante would never hesitate if he thought punishment was necessary.

Then Henry’s quiet voice broke through her thoughts.

“Are you all right?”

“…What?”

“When you see him,” he asked gently, “does it hurt? Does it make you uncomfortable?”

Riena blinked at him, caught off guard. It wasn’t a perfunctory question — his sea-blue eyes were filled with genuine concern.

As always, his kindness struck directly at her heart.

Her throat tightened. 

She took a slow breath and shook her head.

“It used to,” she said softly. “But not anymore. The Duke… he doesn’t treat me cruelly now.”

At that, Henry’s eyes darkened.

“I see. If that’s true, then I’m glad. But Riena… you must know what kind of reputation the Duke of Behern has. You’ve seen it up close — he’s known as a man without blood or tears.”