Chapter 45
An Unwelcome Guest
In the meantime, the carriage arrived at the stadium.
Around a vast field, spaces had been prepared for the nobles’ tea party. Lavishly dressed aristocrats sat in their designated seats, admiring the sprawling green plains.
Considering how dynamic and aggressive polo was, it seemed a contradiction to enjoy an elegant tea party right beside it.
Yet Ansi, now part of that space, could no longer criticize its lavishness.
Before the match began, there was a brief social hour. In the center, where the scent of fragrant tea lingered, many came to greet Duke Orphe and his wife.
Ansi, unfamiliar to almost everyone, had to repeat her unfamiliar name to over a hundred people before the game even started.
“Ansi de Orphe.”
“Oh, it’s such a pleasure to meet you! My, what a well-matched couple you are.”
“As expected of the Duchess—the daughter-in-law has an extraordinary aura as well.”
Though the responses were all well-packaged but hollow, what they said didn’t really matter. The only thing that mattered to them was acknowledging that Ansi was now part of the Orphe family.
Ansi spoke her name with strength, one person at a time, to the very end.
“You can just give a polite nod,” whispered Damion beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder like a doting husband.
From his perspective, it was foolish for a woman to go around stating her full name to each and every one of them.
But Ansi shook her head.
“It wouldn’t be polite.”
She was stubborn in the strangest ways.
Just then, cheers and murmurs stirred among the nobles. When they turned their heads, riders and horses with short-cropped manes and braided tails were entering the field.
The match soon began.
The riders leaned forward on their swiftly galloping horses, swinging their sticks to drive the ball. A fierce battle unfolded as they fought to score goals.
Run faster! Score! Damn it! No!
Moments ago, the scene had been elegant, but now it was filled with loud noise, including curses.
While everyone’s bloodshot eyes were fixed on the polo field, Damion observed the nobles.
Those who had been sipping tea with the utmost grace and hiding their mouths behind fans now wiggled in their seats, as if ready to leap up at any moment.
Damion sneered.
What a silly and pathetic sight.
“Ah…!”
Then a clear voice from beside him drew his gaze downward.
Ansi, too, had her eyes glued to the movement of the horses. The thunderous hoofbeats and risky exchanges changed her expression every second, and her cheeks were gradually flushed.
So… it wasn’t such a pathetic thing… but rather a transparent moment—someone showing emotion honestly, even amid all this formality?
Still staring at her, Damion was lost in thought—until he realized his own face had twisted, losing its own composure.
“Wow!”
A goal was scored between the posts. A cheer erupted. Ansi, her face lit up, gasped in awe.
Damion stared at her blankly.
She bloomed in that moment, like a flower bud blossoming at once. She radiated such brilliance.
Damion quickly turned his head toward the polo field. If he was going to wear a dumb expression anyway, he figured it was better to do so while watching the match like everyone else.
But Damion’s face twisted for another reason.
Damn it.
It wasn’t… all that intense.
Not compared to his own heartbeat.
For Ansi, today’s event was more satisfying than expected.
The Duke and Duchess of Orphe seemed pleased with her as their daughter-in-law, and though she hadn’t cared much for polo, the game turned out to be surprisingly fun.
It was a peaceful yet meaningful day—a step forward. Ansi thought she might be able to end the day on a good note.
If only she hadn’t run into Cardian upon returning to Sobelvio.
“You got here early, Damion. And Ansi.”
For a moment, Ansi felt as if she’d been struck on the back of the head.
Laughing, cheering at the game, enjoying the breeze and the scenery as if she were simply here for fun—someone seemed to be questioning her, “What are you doing?”
They’re your enemies.
Cardian de Orphe. That bastard’s family.
“You should’ve told me, Damion. Then I could’ve arrived on time too.”
“I only got here yesterday.”
“I see.”
Cardian’s eyes slowly scanned from Marianne to Bashiroff. A strange tension filled the air.
His gaze finally settled next to Damion.
“Ansi, it’s been a while.”
His golden eyes glimmered even more brightly in the lobby light. Ansi’s eyelids quivered under his penetrating gaze.
“…It hasn’t been that long. We met just recently when I visited your mother.”
Ansi forced out the words. Cardian let out a soft “Ah” and smiled with his eyes.
“That’s right.”
He nodded as if the memory had just come to him. Not something you’d expect from the man who had waited for her with a hairpin in hand.
Ansi knew this was his way. Pretend to know nothing, observe the other person’s reaction, and reveal only what served his purpose.
“Becky, say hello.”
His voice was soft but commanding, directed at the woman beside him. Beckysh de Orphe. Cardian’s wife.
“This is the first time since the wedding, isn’t it? Nice to see you.”
Beckysh gave a slight nod. Her dark brown hair was neatly tied, and her light green eyes gave off a composed aura.
“Go and get changed, dear. It’s almost time for dinner.”
It was Marianne who broke the heavy tension.
Ansi fled to her room.
Thankfully, Damion had said he’d speak with the Duke and Duchess, giving her a moment alone.
As she changed clothes, Ansi took deep breaths again and again. She pictured the lavender field she had seen with Damion. It helped calm her mind.
Seeing that bastard… Maybe I’ll get used to it after a few more times.
She had to.
“Why is Cardian here?”
Damion lowered his voice as he entered the Duke’s study. At the icy tone, the Duke rolled his tongue in his mouth and shrugged his eyebrows.
“We don’t know. He said he’d arrive in a week, but came without notice.”
“Please make sure tonight’s dinner doesn’t spiral into something unpleasant.”
“Well, you know how quick-witted Cardian is. He’ll choose his words wisely.”
Exactly. That bastard was so quick-witted that he’d probably sensed something was off—and that’s why he showed up unannounced.
Damion exhaled deeply, eyes closed. Bashiroff nearly snapped at the insolent tone.
“You…!”
“Remember. I’ve already paid the price.”
“You dare speak of payment to your father? Honestly, we accepted you only because you’re my son—Orphe doesn’t need some company shares.”
“Then feel free to throw me away.”
Bashiroff ground his teeth. He was bluffing, of course—the deal had been more than satisfactory. Very satisfactory, in fact.
“See you soon.”
Hearing the silence as a response, Damion left and walked quickly toward his room.
It was fortunate that he was assigned to share a room with Ansi. He had specifically requested it, somehow feeling uneasy leaving her alone. And now, it seemed like foresight.
“Ansi, I’m coming in.”
He knocked before entering. The door shut behind him.
At that moment, another door opened.
Cardian, heading toward the staircase, paused. With an amused smile, he glanced toward the room Damion and Ansi shared. Then he turned and walked down the stairs.
Dinner promised to be interesting.
The long table was adorned with brightly colored dishes. Unlike the previous day, tonight’s meal featured fish and fruit native only to the region—fully northern cuisine.
“If it doesn’t suit your taste, you don’t have to eat it.”
Damion whispered to Ansi.
He spoke from experience.
When he had first come from the South to the capital, and then to the North, he’d had a hard time adjusting to the food.
The Duke had clicked his tongue, saying Damion’s palate had become too cheap to enjoy fine cuisine.
Afraid of hearing that, Damion hadn’t dared to complain and had forced himself to eat. With some dishes, he hadn’t even chewed the pieces—just swallowed them whole.
Marianne had once caught him doing that and frowned in disgust.
Damion hoped Ansi wouldn’t suffer the same way, eating food she didn’t like just to save face.
But Ansi replied calmly.
“I’m not picky about food.”
“That’s a relief.”
Damion found himself grateful that she was insensitive in such matters, and leisurely enjoyed the northern meal that he’d now grown accustomed to.
Dinner was unexpectedly peaceful. The Duke spoke at length about an acquaintance’s business failure, using it as an excuse to brag about his own accomplishments. Marianne talked about a dress worn by the Empress at a diplomatic event.
Cardian simply ate in silence.
It was a manufactured peace—but if it could end like this, it wouldn’t be so bad.
“What was Damion like as a child?”
If only Ansi de Orphe hadn’t asked that question.
