Chapter 38
Were You Spying on Me?
A heavy silence filled the room, chilled air swirling like invisible frost. Damian reclined against the sofa, idly flicking his fingers on the armrest. The tight line of his lips betrayed his displeasure.
⟪Is Lady Ansi inside?⟫
⟪Oh dear, haven’t you heard? Madam went to the Duchess’s tea party. She said she’d return before dinner, so I’m sure you’ll be able to dine together.⟫
He had told Ansi that he might be late, depending on how long the conversation with Count Rozel lasted. But things had wrapped up quicker than expected, and upon returning home, all he received was that explanation.
She went to see the Duchess?
There hadn’t been the slightest hint. Only a few days ago, they’d agreed she wouldn’t meet anyone from the Orphe family.
And yet she went. Without a word. On her own.
Just then, a small noise drifted in from outside.
Damian stood and moved to the window. Through the glass, he saw a woman stepping out of a carriage.
He left the room at once.
Ansi, on her way up the stairs, flinched when she saw him.
“Why do you look so surprised?”
The words slipped out in a tone more cutting than he intended.
Ansi quickly composed herself and continued up the stairs.
“I thought you’d be back later.”
Just like last time. And this time too. She never seemed pleased when he came home early. He didn’t know why that irritated him so deeply.
His chest tightened. The knot of his tie felt suffocating.
“I have something to ask you. Come inside.”
“I need to change into something more comfortable. It’s nearly dinnertime, so let’s talk then.”
She looked exhausted. It was clear she didn’t want to talk, and that only soured Damian’s mood further.
“Come in now.”
He forced the rising anger in his voice into a quiet firmness.
Ansi met his eyes for a moment before sighing softly and moving toward him.
She entered his room.
The door closed behind her.
“I heard you went to my mother’s tea party. What exactly were you doing there?”
He got straight to the point. The woman before him didn’t look like she was in the mood for pleasantries.
“…How did you know?”
Ansi’s sharp reply cut through the air, her brows furrowing in clear displeasure.
Damian’s own brow arched.
She had broken their agreement. Yet instead of offering an explanation or even a simple apology, she asked how he knew?
It wasn’t just that she hadn’t told him—she’d gone out of her way to keep it from him. Of her own volition.
The realization sparked a strange sting of betrayal in his chest. He hadn’t even fully trusted or depended on her to begin with.
“Does it matter how I found out?”
“To me, it does.”
“You said you understood. You agreed it was best not to meet with them. So why—without a single word—did you go?”
“I thought you’d try to stop me.”
The answer was simple, blunt, and entirely unrepentant.
And accurate.
Damian let out a hollow chuckle and bent forward, his platinum hair falling over his forehead. From a distance so close he could feel her breath, he met her gaze and whispered,
“Then you shouldn’t have gone.”
“It’s your turn to answer now.”
Her blue eyes, deep and shifting like the sea, bore into him as if they could drown him. She never looked away. Her lips, tightly pressed, were so beautiful it was maddening. In those amethyst eyes, he saw a woman like a demon from myth—one who stole hearts with a glance.
And that demon asked, as though she’d been waiting,
“Were you spying on me?”
Damian’s expression twisted.
Why did that question make him feel so disgusted? For a moment, he was genuinely stunned.
“Spying on you?”
He lowered his gaze, letting it trail down her black dress before returning to her face.
“Me? Spying on you?”
Ansi nodded.
“You’re serious?”
“I am.”
“…Ha.”
A scoff escaped his lips before he could stop it.
Spying? That was something you did to someone whose every move needed to be monitored. She spoke as if she were someone of great importance.
But the truly laughable thing was the thought that maybe—just maybe—he should have been spying.
He straightened, jerking at his tie. Even as it loosened, the tightness in his throat didn’t ease.
“If spying was such a good idea, maybe you should’ve told me sooner.”
“…What?”
“That way, I wouldn’t have had to ask you what happened. I would’ve known—exactly how my mother insulted and humiliated you. There’d be no need for questions.”
Ansi’s eyes flickered. She swallowed, her voice unsteady as she replied,
“You assumed the Duchess would hate me. But you were wrong. She said she was disappointed I hadn’t sought her out sooner. She said she was happy to see me at last.”
“And you believed her?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Is it because you think I’m unworthy of the Orphe name?”
“Ansi.”
“Am I wrong?”
She stared at him with a sharpness he hadn’t seen before. Even if she didn’t love him, such open hostility was unexpected.
“I’ve never thought that.”
“Then why stop me? I said I’d be fine, and I was. So maybe the one who truly can’t accept me… is you, Damian.”
She stepped back and reached for the door.
“You’re the one who said you wanted to marry me. Not the other way around.”
She left.
The door closed.
Damian stood still, staring blankly at it.
Then he sank onto the sofa, dragging a hand over his face.
Up until his meeting with Count Rozel, everything had seemed to be falling into place. If he followed the path he’d laid out step by step, he believed he could achieve his life’s goals.
But in front of Ansi, that order crumbled. Everything felt too massive—like waves crashing in. Yet sometimes, it all seemed small and hollow, like bubbles that could vanish without a trace.
The fear of his relationship with the Orphe Dukes being exposed suddenly felt like a much bigger deal than it actually was.
While the Orphe name, once so heavy, now felt meaningless.
Not good enough for the Orphe name?
What did that name even mean?
Damian stared at the closed door.
Only her lingering scent remained to torment him.
A woman who curled up like a meek lamb one moment, then bristled like a hedgehog the next.
Unpredictable.
And his feelings for her—now completely uncontrollable.
A dangerous thing indeed.
“Would you tell them I won’t be joining for dinner? I’m too tired and need to rest.”
“Are you very tired, madam? Should I bring you something light?”
Simon approached with Ansi’s loungewear, concern written all over her face.
But Ansi simply collapsed onto the bed. Just a moment like this. She didn’t even have the strength to change her clothes.
⟪Ansi, I was honestly hurt. I wanted to see you sooner, but you never came to me. I’m truly glad we met today.⟫
When she’d changed into her black dress and stepped into the garden, the Duchess had greeted her with unexpected warmth.
Ansi couldn’t make sense of it. All she could do was focus all her energy on not reacting stiffly, like some wooden puppet.
“But madam, why are you still in that black dress? Was something wrong today?”
Ansi opened her eyes slightly, watching Simon from her curled-up position.
She didn’t know who to trust anymore.
Damian, who had seemed to trust her implicitly, had proven otherwise. He couldn’t even bring himself to let her face his family.
Had Simon dressed her up so extravagantly because she knew this would happen?
That thought wormed its way into her mind.
“One of the ladies from the circle passed away yesterday. Today’s tea party was held after the funeral.”
“Oh heavens! I should have prepared a black dress for you! How terrible… Was it awkward for you? I’m so sorry, madam.”
Simon was visibly shaken, fumbling over her words.
But it wasn’t her fault. There hadn’t been a single mention of a funeral in the invitation. Simon had simply done her job.
So why was she apologizing so much? Was it because she had known, and had dressed Ansi to be humiliated?
Ansi sat up and asked, voice dry,
“I have a question.”
“Yes, madam?”
“Did you tell Damian I went to the Duke’s house?”
“Yes, I did, but…”
“Did he ask you to keep an eye on me?”
“…Pardon? What do you mean, madam?”
Simon blinked, confused. Then her eyes widened as realization struck—and she quickly shook her head.
“No! Absolutely not!”
