Chapter 89
Dante once again headed straight to Arbern.
As soon as his attendants from Behern joined him, he made his way to the townhouse.
Normally, he never had any reason to visit the place—his trips to Arbern were always brief, limited to official business that began and ended on the same day.
But this time, he had to stay several days to oversee preparations for the farewell ceremony.
Truthfully, he would’ve preferred to stay in a hotel reserved for distinguished guests of Arbern.
But a duke residing at a hotel while owning a townhouse would only draw needless gossip, so Dante had no real choice.
There was no reason to hand anyone an excuse to talk.
If he did, the papers would no doubt start spinning more baseless stories again.
That was, in fact, why he had gone out of his way to invite and host those unfriendly journalists at his resort—to silently warn them not to overstep.
Even without such measures, Dante’s every move easily became the talk of the empire.
No matter how serious the matter, for those people, it was simply something to gossip about over tea—nothing more.
So he had no intention of giving them fresh material.
When Dante stepped out of the carriage, the butler and servants gathered in front of the townhouse bowed their heads deeply.
The elderly butler at the front greeted him first.
“Welcome, Your Grace.”
“It’s been a while. Have you been well?”
Dante’s gaze, cool and detached, lingered on the old man bowing before him.
“Yes, thanks to Your Grace, I have.”
I’m sure you have, he thought dryly.
His golden eyes swept over the line of servants behind the butler—all of them bowing to greet a man who wasn’t even their true master.
How ridiculous.
“I’ve already eaten. I’ll be heading out soon, so just unpack my things.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Dante ascended the stairs to the second floor with practiced ease.
Compared to his palace or the ducal mansion, the townhouse was much smaller—naturally so.
For nobles, such places were merely temporary lodgings for social seasons.
He hadn’t set foot here in years, yet every surface gleamed as if freshly polished.
Not even a speck of dust on the stair railing.
It was the same kind of excessive tidiness as in the Behern palace—too perfect, too sterile.
The townhouse in Arbern, too, belonged not to him but to the royal family.
The servants here, likewise, were in their service.
A familiar, distasteful emotion began to rise in his chest.
His expression as he climbed the stairs was cold enough to freeze the air.
The building exuded wealth at a glance—that was Dante’s first impression of DelaRube’s newly built headquarters.
He stepped out of the car leisurely and buttoned his jacket.
“Welcome, Your Grace. It’s an honor to have you visit.”
“Yes.”
He nodded curtly, his gaze sweeping over the woman who had come to greet him.
She didn’t seem to be the company president—more likely a senior employee—but her tailored suit suggested she wasn’t low-ranking either.
The president didn’t even come out to greet me?
His mood soured slightly, but before he could say anything, the woman straightened her back.
Her dark eyes, unwavering, met his.
“President Lucia is waiting for you, Your Grace.”
Dante responded with a brief nod and followed her inside the building.
He had visited before, back when Count DelaRube—the previous head of the family—was alive.
Not ostentatious.
That’s something.
Dante’s eyes roamed over the interior with faint approval.
At least her taste was better than her father’s.
Just then, the employee stopped abruptly in front of him. Dante raised an eyebrow.
“Is this President Lucia’s office?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Please wait a moment while I announce your arrival.”
In front of him stretched a transparent glass wall—if one could even call it a wall.
The sight made Dante quietly huff a laugh.
It wasn’t completely see-through—frosted, like misted glass—but still transparent enough to make out what was happening inside.
Ah… I see what this is about.
As Dante guessed the reason for the glass walls, the employee returned and bowed.
“You may enter now, Your Grace.”
“Thank you.”
Dante stepped forward and entered what looked like a fortress made of glass—the president’s office of DelaRube.
Inside, Lucia rose from behind her desk, wearing a lemon-yellow suit that complemented her bright demeanor.
“Welcome, Your Grace. It’s an honor to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine, President Lucia.”
Dante’s brow twitched faintly.
She hadn’t even prepared beforehand; she’d simply stood up from her work to greet him.
How… unprofessional.
Suppressing his irritation, he donned his polished, diplomatic smile.
Lucia gestured toward the sofa in the center.
“Please, have a seat. Would you like tea or coffee?”
Her honey-blonde hair—so similar in shade to Dante’s—was braided neatly and pinned up.
“Oh, or perhaps wine? Champagne? Whiskey? Though, if I recall, Your Grace doesn’t particularly enjoy alcohol, does he?”
Unlike her late father, Lucia seemed to know Dante’s preferences well.
“Coffee, please.”
Lucia laughed brightly and relayed his order to the employee waiting outside the glass door.
As Dante watched her from the corner of his eye, he tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest.
Her tone was too casual for a businesswoman—grating, almost playful.
Once the order was placed, Lucia sat across from him, her expression open and confident.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Since my father’s funeral, I believe.”
Five years ago, perhaps.
Back then, she had been young and unrefined; now, she’d grown into an adult capable of running her family’s business.
“Yes,” Dante replied simply.
“I’ve inherited my father’s company now, so I’m the one running things. This new building is my doing too! What do you think of it, Your Grace?”
Dante kept his pleasant smile.
“I find it tasteful. It shows wealth without being gaudy.”
“Oh—you noticed! Though I’m considering adding a few luxurious touches soon.”
“May I ask why?”
In truth, he couldn’t have cared less, but he tilted his head slightly as if genuinely curious.
“Well,” Lucia began with a playful sigh, “I have plenty of money, but since my surroundings don’t look particularly extravagant, I keep attracting strange men. They all seem to think I’d make the perfect wife—someone who saves every coin only to hand it to her husband later.”
Dante chuckled softly, amused by her complaint.
“So that’s why you built your office with glass walls?”
Her face brightened instantly.
“Exactly! You really do see through people, Your Grace. Growing up in a family that made liquor, I’ve been treated far too lightly by men. After a few unpleasant experiences, I decided that when I built this new headquarters, the walls would all be glass.”
Dante let out a small laugh. Indeed, the noblemen of Bermark weren’t known for their integrity.
It wasn’t hard to imagine how those fools had treated a young, wealthy, unmarried woman.
“Yes. It’s quite aesthetically pleasing, too.”
Preventive measures, he mused. Talkative, but clever enough.
He stopped tapping his fingers and leaned back lazily on the sofa.
“Now, shall we discuss the business at hand, President Lucia?”
They’d exchanged enough pleasantries—it was time to get to the real reason for his visit.
