Chapter 43
The Alibi Is Lavender
He kept looking over his shoulder, constantly wary and uneasy, worried that the man might be just like him. So even as he defined him as a romantic, he also seemed ready to be disappointed at the slightest misstep.
Yet… now, that man was gazing at Anshi with a look full of affection.
“What did you talk about with my mother?”
“…Just everyday things. About a party another guest hosted, about the fashion trends in the capital—styles of dresses and hats.”
“And?”
“And… that Parliament will be over by mid-June, and that Sovelvio is beautiful in June.”
“Do you want to go?”
“Of course.”
“Then let’s go.”
“Really?”
Anshi pulled away slightly. The country house in the north—Orphe’s estate. Was he saying they should go together?
Damion nodded with a smile.
It was a relief. At last, she was truly being brought into the inner circle of Orphe—not as a stain left by the second son’s rash decisions, but as a genuine member of the family.
But it wasn’t only joy she felt. It was strange.
Anshi looked quietly at Damion. Her mind drifted to the fairy tale she had burned earlier, and to something he had once said—that he didn’t like stories where the child suffered hardship.
Surely, he hadn’t experienced such hardships himself. And yet… for some reason, the expression on his face seemed laced with loneliness.
Without realizing it, she reached out.
When she gently touched his cheek, Damion turned his face and kissed her palm.
Startled, she pulled her hand back and blinked in embarrassment, hurriedly fumbling with the pocket on the side of her skirt.
As if making an excuse, she pulled out a small box and offered it to him.
“…Your birthday’s tomorrow.”
“You got me a gift?”
Damion looked at the box with wide eyes.
“That’s the least I could do.”
Anshi took a breath and continued.
“Because I’m your wife.”
Damion smiled brightly and took the box. He immediately undid the ribbon and opened it. Inside was a pair of cufflinks.
Etched onto the round cufflinks was a pattern reminiscent of rippling waves.
It wasn’t a gift with any grand meaning. She just hadn’t been able to forget the cufflinks she saw on the day he nearly died… and simply wanted to give him another pair.
“Thank you.”
Damion’s lips curved with joy. He took off the cufflinks he was wearing and replaced them with the ones from the box.
“…Do you like them?”
“They remind me of you. That’s why I like them even more.”
They reminded him of her? Anshi blinked, confused by his words. But the man didn’t elaborate. Instead, he turned with a cheerful face.
After glancing over the flowers, he reached for one of the long-stemmed lavenders.
The flower, which looked too thick to break easily, snapped off effortlessly. Damion held the lavender out toward Anshi.
“…It’s not my birthday.”
“This isn’t a gift.”
“Then what is it?”
“An alibi.”
With a transparently thin excuse, her husband smiled, his eyes crinkling.
And Anshi’s heart fluttered.
“Please follow me, young master.”
Damion, who had been sitting in the parlor, followed the butler of the Duke of Orphe family. The treatment was more like that of a guest than a family member—but he was used to that.
The place he was led to was the Duke’s study.
“I’m busy, so get to the point.”
Duke Basyrof stood from behind his desk and walked over to the sofa, sinking into it. Damion looked around the room as he entered.
“I’d like to speak with Mother as well.”
“I’ll pass on the message.”
“You’re not very good at persuading her.”
Basyrof glared at Damion. Then he sighed and clicked his tongue.
“Marianne has never been the harsh type. If you’d spoken more kindly, perhaps you could’ve won her favor.”
Won her favor? There couldn’t have been a more irresponsible and ignorant remark.
Damion still remembered clearly. Even though Marianne had known that Kardian treated Damion like a toy—even after witnessing that horrifying scene firsthand—she had chosen to look away.
“…You shouldn’t have come here.”
As she applied ointment to young Damion’s burn, that’s what she had said.
“Mother, you saw it. My brother—”
“Forget it.”
“…”
“The wound isn’t that deep. The ointment will help it heal quickly. I’ll forget it, so you should too.”
Marianne never met his eyes.
Damion could tell she was trying hard to sound calm.
That made the wound all the deeper.
The adult he should have been able to rely on—did nothing. She had made it clear that her duty was to Kardian, and that Damion’s pain was a necessary sacrifice for his sake.
To a child barely eight years old, it was brutal.
The burn healed quickly. As she said, new skin formed quickly. But the deep wound inside Damion never healed.
New skin never formed over it. And Kardian only added more wounds on top of the old ones.
Marianne no longer told him to forget. She just pretended she didn’t see.
Compared to Duke Basyrof, who had ignored everything from the start, she was only slightly better.
But in truth, they were all the same.
Everyone had known how Kardian treated Damion. At first, they were shocked. But soon, they grew numb.
Everyone except Elma.
Everyone else pretended not to see. Eventually, they forgot. And then they behaved as if it had never happened. To them, Damion d’Orphe was just a disrespectful, shameless son defying his adoptive parents.
“I know Mother’s not a cruel person.”
Damion smiled. The ambiguous smile made Basyrof frown.
“She even forgave you for sowing the seed of a bastard like me and returning home, didn’t she?”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Why so angry? I’m only agreeing with your words.”
Basyrof’s face twisted and turned red with rage.
“Liesel wasn’t like that—”
“Don’t say that name.”
The cold tone cut Basyrof off. Startled by his son’s sharp gaze, he flinched.
Damion hated hearing Liesel’s name. Whether it was because he thought his father had abandoned her and him—or because he actually knew something—the Duke couldn’t tell.
“Ahem. I’ll call Marianne.”
Basyrof tugged the bell cord. Soon after he ordered someone to bring Marianne, she entered the study.
She didn’t even look surprised to see Damion, indicating she had already heard he was here.
“I thought you were only seeing your father.”
“I heard you were eager to meet my wife. What did you think when you met her?”
“She’s very pretty and clever. Well, the Rubelsa family may have collapsed suddenly, but it’s a line that’s produced many brilliant people over the generations.”
Damion’s eyes narrowed slightly. Seeing his expression, Marianne folded her arms and sighed.
“Damion, now that she’s officially our daughter-in-law, I have no intention of seeing her in a negative light.”
There was a degree of sincerity in her eyes. It seemed Anshi had been fooled by that same expression.
But Damion, who had been seeing Marianne like this since he was eight, immediately knew it was a lie.
“Good. Then please keep pretending.”
He knew she was faking. She knew he didn’t believe her.
It was a transparent lie between them—but there was still a need to keep it going.
“Well, whether I do or not will depend on the situation, won’t it?”
Marianne scoffed, as if she were exasperated. This second son, speaking in such a commanding tone, clearly had no sense of his place.
Damion handed over an envelope. Basyrof walked over and took it from him.
After checking the contents, he casually stroked his beard.
A stock transfer certificate.
It belonged to one of Damion’s more promising companies.
“What are the terms?”
“First: My wife believes we are a normal family. Ensure she continues to believe that. If you do, the company will keep growing.”
“Second?”
“Make sure my brother doesn’t meet her. For example, if I’m visiting Sovelvio—keep her from running into Kardian. I don’t want her to meet him.”
“…I see. And?”
“That’s all.”
His demands were simple. And easy. They had been performing the act of a loving family for the public their entire lives—surely they could do the same for one young woman.
Basyrof and Marianne exchanged glances. Then, as they always did in front of others, they spoke kindly to Damion.
“It’s not as if we’re not a real family.”
“Don’t forget, Damion—we are the parents who raised you.”
Damion smiled and nodded.
“Of course, Father. And Mother.”
