SMR | Chapter 171

~Chapter 171~

“I missed you. So much that even I find it strange.”

The words Cedric had spoken inside the carriage became Harriet’s, turning over in her mind every day. She missed him—deeply, inexplicably.

She dreamed of him almost every night.

In her dreams, Cedric smiled at her without exception and spoke softly, teasing words whose meaning she could never quite grasp.

When she woke from those dreams, her chest would ache so badly she had to curl up for a long time. Sometimes she felt pathetic for being like that and shed a few tears. Other times, she wondered if there was any way to erase these feelings.

Then one morning, after waking without dreaming of him at all, Harriet felt an emptiness—and realized something.

‘Liking him isn’t pain. It’s happiness.’

The fact that meeting Cedric had brought her sadness and loneliness didn’t make her want to avoid him. That alone was proof.

So Harriet changed the way she thought.

‘Feeling something like this might be a once-in-a-lifetime blessing. Turning such a gift into nothing but sorrow would be a waste of life.’

She decided to acknowledge her feelings and accept this love gladly.

To give up some things, and let others flutter freely. To create memories she would never forget, without Cedric ever knowing.

She decided not to worry about his relationships with other women. No matter who he became to someone else, her feelings wouldn’t change—and worrying about that felt pointless.

Once she changed her mindset, Harriet’s heart felt far more at ease.

Thanks to that, she could act quite calmly in front of Cedric now—even teasing him lightly.

“I was surprised you contacted me. You must be the busiest person in Genoa these days. I’m sure many people want to see you.”

“Even if there are many, not a single one is welcome. They all just want money.”

“I heard. Thanks to the Kailas ducal house, the economy is booming. Are you regretting releasing Anghelic’s antidote, Simon, for free?”

“Hm… honestly, I squeezed quite a bit out of Albert, so things aren’t bad.”

Cedric shrugged and smiled easily, as always. Meanwhile, Harriet had spent days exhausting herself just to look unaffected. Everything seemed effortless for him—and that made her a little annoyed.

So she teased him on purpose.

“Isn’t this front-page news material? ‘Hero of the Empire who calmed the Anghelic crisis at his own expense secretly extorted money.’ That headline would sell well.”

“I’m closer to a villain than a hero, so I don’t mind.”

“Oh come on. Playing the anti-hero doesn’t suit you. And you are a hero. You solved a problem even the imperial family couldn’t touch.”

She praised him more than usual, hoping to see him flustered. Instead, a bitter smile appeared on his lips.

“A hero… People really use that word lightly.”

He turned his gaze toward the portrait of his father hanging on the wall.

“I haven’t dealt with a single one of the people responsible for my father’s death yet. What kind of hero is that?”

Like dying embers, even his crooked smile faded away.

Benedict had escaped execution. Cedric had hesitated, but in the end, he couldn’t break his promise to his father.

When he asked the Emperor to change Benedict’s sentence, the words hadn’t come easily. But seeing the sentence reduced to twenty years, and watching Marquis Pascal panic and scramble, he realized once again that his father’s judgment had been right.

If Benedict died, the happiest people would be Marquis Pascal and Count Hayward. Cedric had no intention of letting his enemies cut off their tails and escape.

If he threw out the right bait, set the trap, and waited, they would walk straight into their own destruction. And Benedict would make an excellent trap.

Even so, the frustration wouldn’t go away.

“Everything is moving so quickly… yet the matter of my father’s death alone feels painfully slow. Even though my enemies are right in front of me.”

He felt disgusted with himself for being unable to act—so much so that he couldn’t even fully enjoy the success he’d worked so hard for.

As Cedric clicked his tongue bitterly, Harriet—sitting across from him—hesitantly reached out and placed her hand over his.

“I understand how you feel.”

The roles had reversed from the carriage.

And Cedric knew she meant it sincerely. She, too, had been unable to touch the matter of her parents’ deaths.

“Thank you. That helps more than you know.”

Only when Cedric accepted her comfort so openly did Harriet finally allow herself a truly gentle smile.

She adjusted her posture slightly, as if to lighten the mood.

“By the way… the reason you asked to see me today…”

There had to be something he wanted to say or assign, so she prepared herself.

But Cedric—who had been meeting her gaze—looked away slightly and leaned back. Was it her imagination, or did he seem a little embarrassed?

“I thought we could share some updates… and have a cup of tea.”

Harriet paused.

Once again, he casually said something that could easily be misunderstood.

Before, she would have stiffened and tried to decipher his exact meaning. But now, having decided to enjoy what made her heart flutter, she responded differently.

Smiling brightly, she offered a more daring suggestion.

“Tea is nice, but today I brought a gift that went through proper inspection.”

At her nod, Butler Herbert placed a prepared box on the table. It was wine again.

“It’s from a vineyard I invested in. It wasn’t bad to my taste… would you like to try it?”

Cedric opened the box with interest.

“Eden Roger. Pinot Noir?”

“Yes. I heard it’s a difficult variety to grow. The vineyard isn’t large, but I valued their ability to cultivate such a finicky grape stably. The owner is very passionate.”

“You’ve truly become a businesswoman.”

The gentle curve of his smile was beautiful—so much so she wanted to keep looking at it forever.

Cedric asked Herbert to pour the wine.

As before, two delicate, top-quality wine glasses were filled with a translucent reddish-brown liquid.

Once finished, Herbert discreetly withdrew, leaving only Cedric and Harriet in the study.

“The aroma is wonderful.”

Cedric brought the glass briefly to his nose and smiled in satisfaction.

They lightly clinked glasses and drank in silence. The scent of raspberries and dew-covered roses filled the air, followed by a wine that was pleasantly acidic without being bitter, leaving behind the earthy fragrance of the soil where the grapes had grown.

After tasting it, Cedric slowly rotated the glass, admiring the color.

Harriet watched for a moment, then swallowed dryly, took a deep breath, and spoke as naturally as she could.

“This wine somehow reminds me of you, Duke.”

The reason she had invested in this vineyard wasn’t the owner’s passion or even the quality. It was because a random glass of wine had reminded her of Cedric.

He lifted his eyes from the glass and looked at her.

Her heart pounded loudly, but Harriet lowered her gaze and continued, almost like a confession.

“The color—it’s exactly like your eyes. Clear reddish-brown. And it feels very delicate… and captivating.”

She could feel his intense gaze, and her lips went dry. But she didn’t stop. Some things had to be given up—but excitement was something she chose to enjoy.

“I don’t know much about wine, but I thought this fragrance was what ideal wine should smell like. It might feel a bit light to you, though.”

“No, it’s excellent. More than that…”

Cedric slowly trailed off.

“When exactly did you look at my eyes that closely?”

The direct question made Harriet’s stomach tighten.

For a moment, she feared he might mock her for staring at him.

“Is there really such a thing as ‘closely’? You can see it just by looking. It’s not ambiguous like mine.”

“You think your eye color is ambiguous? It’s hazel—your left eye is slightly greener than your right. Now that I say it… I suppose it really is ‘visible if you look.’”

Without thinking, Harriet raised a hand and touched near her eyes. She had always thought both were the same. How had he noticed such a subtle difference?

His eyes were a clear, uniform color—but many people failed to recognize hers as hazel because of the mixed tones.

What she had meant as a light, fluttering comment came back with such weight that Harriet felt flustered.

‘Think of something else. Something else.’

Otherwise, her ears and cheeks would surely turn red.

And at times like this, sad thoughts were the solution.

“Anyway, I’m glad you like it. If the first glass was a greeting… shall we raise the next in memory of the late Duke Rowan Kailas?”

Cedric fell silent, then slowly nodded. He personally poured wine into the now-empty glasses.

“Come to think of it, my father loved wine too. He favored full-bodied Cabernet Sauvignon, but he wasn’t very picky.”

“Did he like drinking?”

“He didn’t enjoy strong liquor. He said the head of the house must always stay clear-minded. He only had one or two glasses with meals or late in the evening.”

Because he never overindulged for the sake of the family, Cedric never knew how much his father truly loved wine. He could only hope it wasn’t something he forced himself to give up.

Cedric handed Harriet her glass.

“Would you clink glasses with me—for a great head of the house unknown to most, and for a fledgling who could never step out of his shadow?”

Harriet accepted the glass and replied,

“I’ll toast to the two heroes who saved the Empire.”

Once more, the glasses met in the air with a clear, beautiful sound.