“Ugh…”
I groaned as I slowly sat up in bed, feeling a dull ache all over.
“Wow… this hangover is brutal.”
I hadn’t experienced a hangover like this since my early twenties.
As I barely managed to lift my upper body, the world started spinning, and I fell back onto the bed, my face buried in the sheets.
“Ugh… this is terrible…”
In moments like this, I needed a steaming bowl of hangover soup with a hefty dose of red pepper powder. But such a thing didn’t exist in this world.
“Let’s see… how did I get back here last night…?”
I mumbled to myself, my face still buried in the sheets, as I tried to piece together the previous night.
I remembered chatting with the ladies at the party, accepting drinks one by one until I was thoroughly tipsy. I distinctly recalled holding it together at the party, determined not to show any signs of intoxication.
But the moment I got into the carriage to head home, my memory went blank as if someone had cut the film.
“Sigh, I underestimated Eloise’s alcohol tolerance…”
Eloise’s tolerance was much lower than I thought—basically, she was a lightweight. I could tell because after just five glasses of champagne, the world wasn’t just spinning; it felt like it was flipping upside down.
‘Now that I think about it, there’s no way the uptight Eloise would have been fond of drinking.’
Holding my throbbing head, I glanced down at the clothes I was wearing.
Despite everything, I was neatly dressed in a nightgown, meaning someone must have helped me change.
“Well… let’s get up…”
It was already well past 10 AM.
‘I failed to have breakfast on time again today.’
Not having to see Ian’s face was a relief, though.
Ugh… I groaned like a zombie as I forced myself to sit up.
Just then, there was a soft knock on the door.
“…Come in.”
“Madam, you’re awake.”
The door clicked open, and it was not Vivi but the butler, Harold, who appeared. He bowed his head slightly and respectfully clasped his hands as he greeted me.
“…Butler, what brings you here in the morning?”
“I apologize for the early intrusion. I came to inquire whether you will be attending breakfast.”
“Is it so unusual that you had to come all the way here to ask?”
Suddenly?
Harold bowed even lower, his posture even more polite.
“It’s just that the master asked me to inform you that he would wait until you arrived.”
…Huh?
“The Duke said that?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s already past ten.”
“Yes.”
I blinked, momentarily forgetting the pounding headache I had been enduring just moments ago.
Was he really sitting there like a few days ago, with a cup of cold coffee in front of him, reading the newspaper?
When I didn’t respond, the butler, sensing the silence, cleared his throat.
“…Shall I tell him you won’t be attending today either?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll go.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Harold bowed once more and quietly left the room. I remained seated, dumbfounded, until his footsteps faded away, tilting my head in confusion.
“What’s going on now?”
❖ ❖ ❖
When I finally made my way down to the dining hall after freshening up, Ian was indeed still there. It was now well past 11 AM, more than two hours after breakfast time.
‘He really waited…?’
I was more than puzzled; I was downright flabbergasted.
Unlike the other day when he had just cold coffee in front of him, this time, he hadn’t even started eating, as the cutlery in front of him was still untouched.
Did he eat something bad?
‘Is this really Ian?’
Sensing my presence, Ian looked up from his newspaper.
“You’re late.”
“Yes… But aren’t you busy?”
“I am.”
“Then why are you sitting here…?”
He looked at me quietly for a moment before silently folding the newspaper. It was clear he had no intention of answering.
‘That rude attitude confirms it, he’s definitely Ian.’
Feeling both bewildered and uneasy, I pulled out a chair and sat down.
As soon as I did, the servants began bringing out the meal, as if they had been waiting for me.
However, I noticed that Ian and I had different dishes.
While Ian received a cold appetizer, a warm, clear soup was placed in front of me.
I stared at the soup for a moment before asking the servant who had just set down the plate.
“What is this?”
“Oh, well…”
“Considering you had quite a bit to drink last night, I asked the chef to prepare this for you.”
I had clearly directed my question to the servant, but the answer came from elsewhere.
“…Pardon?”
Ian, after taking a sip of water and setting his glass down, looked at me.
“You don’t seem like you didn’t hear.”
“No… Did you say that, Your Grace?”
“Is there a problem?”
His question left me speechless.
There are many problems—too many, in fact. For Ian, the stubborn, emotionless shell that he was, to suddenly take care of someone like this, it either meant he was about to die or the world was about to end.
Whether or not he cared about the confusion that was swallowing me up, Ian casually picked up his utensils and started eating.
The servant, who had been glancing between the two of us, quickly scurried away as if fleeing the scene.
‘…Am I still drunk?’
I discreetly lowered my hand under the table and pinched the back of it.
“Ouch.”
It hurt like hell.
‘So it’s not a dream.’
“….”
I stared at the soup in bewilderment, but I had no choice but to pick up the spoon and start eating.
Despite everything, the soup tasted delicious. Not quite as comforting as a steaming bowl of hangover soup, but close.
‘I guess this is helping with the hangover.’
After several courses had been served, I noticed something else that felt off.
It seemed… like he was trying to match my pace?
His eating speed was unusually slow today.
Normally, he would have finished eating and left by now, but today, he was still sitting there, as if waiting for me to catch up.
He even paused to drink water or chew more slowly when he noticed that my plate wasn’t empty.
No way. It can’t be.
But when the servant finally brought out the sherbet for both Ian and me, I realized it wasn’t just my imagination.
‘What on earth is going on?’
At this point, I wasn’t just confused; I was getting scared.
While I sat there, too overwhelmed to even pick up my spoon, Ian remained as calm as ever.
He took a bite of the sherbet, set down his spoon, and finally spoke.
“…I waited because there’s something I wanted to say.”
Great, if you have something to say, please just say it and let me go. I feel like I’m going to have indigestion.
“Yes, go ahead.”
“First of all, it would be wise to moderate your drinking in the future.”
“Oh… yes.”
I did drink a bit too much last night.
“And from now on, let’s make it a point to have breakfast together whenever possible. I won’t leave the table before you anymore.”
“Cough, what?”
I choked on my breath, unable to believe what I just heard.
I stared at him, my expression completely frozen, but Ian’s face remained as calm as ever.
“I’m sorry to say, but I can’t afford to spend more time with you than that. As you know, there are many matters within and outside the duchy that require my attention.”
“Yes, I understand…”
But since when did we ever care about spending time together?
It was a bizarre situation, both absurd and incomprehensible, and yet I couldn’t find the right words to challenge it.
‘What is he trying to do here?’
Can a person really change this much overnight? Even Ian?
He resumed eating as if nothing had happened, leaving me to stare at him in bewilderment.
His serene expression as he ate the sherbet was infuriating.
‘…Wait a second.’
A chilling realization crept up my spine.
Could it be…
“…Just to be clear, did anything happen after I came home last night?”
I never thought I’d be the one asking something like this.
But when I combined Ian’s subtly altered behavior with the gap in my memory from last night, there was only one thing it could be.
The scariest thing is always the mess you make when you’re drunk.
“Did something… happen?”
Ian looked at me steadily in response to my nervous question.
“…”
No words were exchanged, but I instinctively knew.
Something definitely happened last night.
His eyes left no room for doubt.
A blaring red alarm went off in my head.
‘I’m screwed.’
This is why you shouldn’t drink so recklessly.
I desperately wanted to pull at my hair and force myself to remember, but sadly, nothing came to mind.
While I sat there, half out of my mind, Ian calmly took another bite of sherbet, as if he wasn’t even fazed.
How can you even eat right now?
He elegantly placed his spoon down and dabbed his mouth with a napkin.
“Nothing significant happened.”
Really?
I eyed him suspiciously, but the next words he said made me want to bury my face in my plate.
“Isn’t that what they call a little white lie?”
…Might as well bite my tongue and die.
Of my own free will.
♧♧♧
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