Chapter 21
Though no one knew exactly why he was angry this time, it was clear that Cayente was. As always, his tone and expression gave nothing away, but the deep crease between his brows hadn’t relaxed for a moment.
“I heard you’re planning to expand into the textile business in a big way. If you’re looking for investors—”
“I’m not.”
“…Ahem, ahem. Have you thought about selling your products on other continents? I run a small trading company—”
“Strange. You seem so interested in my business, yet you haven’t heard I’m starting Clue Trade myself. I said I don’t need it.”
Cayente, already known for being abrasive, cut off the conversation without hearing it out. Yulia began to understand why the rumors about him were so widespread. He was outright rude to anyone who dared approach—even with her standing right beside him.
“So you must be Lady Ruper. Congratulations on the engagement.”
“Thank you.”
Even so, he stayed by Yulia’s side. With one hand resting lightly on the small of her back, he didn’t neglect to escort her properly as people came by to offer greetings, clearly acknowledging her as his companion.
“Lady Ruper, was it? I didn’t expect such beauty. No wonder the Count fell for you.”
“They say you two were close since childhood? Is this the fruit of that bond?”
“I heard the Count always kept his distance from women—perhaps it was because his heart was already taken, ha ha ha.”
But Yulia felt a rising sense of unease with every person that approached them. As word of their engagement spread, so did the stories of their past closeness. Thankfully, no one brought up money, but Yulia couldn’t shake the feeling of walking on thin ice, unsure how long Cayente would tolerate the love-struck chatter.
“So that’s how it happened. A bond from childhood… Am I the only one envious?”
“Your Majesty, what’s there to envy? Did you not meet your husband as if by fate?”
“Even so, I doubt it could compare to such a long-standing connection.”
Surprisingly, even the Emperor assumed this was a marriage born of love, like all the other nobles. Cayente, at least, answered the Emperor with proper courtesy, which was a relief.
“He doesn’t usually speak much about himself, but he’s especially tight-lipped when it comes to this marriage. Lady Ruper, why don’t you tell us the romantic tale in his place? It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that’s what this party was really thrown for.”
Yulia turned to Cayente, unsure how to explain a romance that didn’t exist. He simply offered a faint smile, silently saying he had nothing to add. Not wanting to bite her lip in frustration, Yulia clenched her hand tightly at her side.
Cayente had known the Emperor would say something like this.
He told her there wouldn’t be much to say besides names. Did he plan for her to humiliate herself by confessing she was marrying someone because she needed money and he brought it?
“He was… my first love. The Count, I mean.”
“Your first love? I see. Feel free to call him ‘brother’ if that’s what you’re used to. No need to change that just because you’re in my presence.”
Yulia couldn’t do what Cayente wanted. So, she spoke the embarrassing truth aloud. Even the Emperor, and the aging nobles who found the idea of “first love” almost laughably distant, grew nostalgic.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Do tell us more, Lady Ruper. First love, you say?”
“Even back then, just like now, he stood out—not just because of his looks, but because of his warm heart.”
“Oh really? Strange… The current Count Clue doesn’t strike me as particularly warm.”
Even after all their life experiences, the mention of first love still stirred something sentimental. Cayente, who had been brooding, finally spoke, his expression unreadable.
“You can’t stay a child forever. You have to grow up and see the world for what it is.”
Just like before, he was calling her a child again. Yulia didn’t understand why being an adult meant losing warmth, but she had no words to argue.
He’d discarded warmth to become an adult. Yulia couldn’t help but wonder—was that really necessary? If so, maybe she’d rather remain a child.
“That’s why we’re getting married. To show her properly—just how cold and cruel this world really is.”
“You have a strange way of saying you want to protect her, Count. You’ll have Lady Ruper misunderstanding you.”
The Emperor laughed at Cayente’s comment, but Yulia couldn’t. She had assumed the marriage was about raising a child, but Cayente was saying otherwise. And he wasn’t the type to speak nonsense.
To marry her just to demonstrate how harsh the world could be—it was a hard pill to swallow. But in a way, it explained why he had always been so distant. He wanted her to feel, firsthand, that life ahead would be no fairy tale.
“Oh, that reminds me. Lady Ruper, while preparing for this party, I heard something amusing.”
The Emperor turned to her again before she could process Cayente’s words. He brought up something Yulia had long forgotten—her cello playing.
“They say you’re quite the talented cellist. I heard a new performer was supposed to appear at the last banquet but had to cancel last-minute. That was you, wasn’t it?”
“Ah… yes.”
She hadn’t meant to tell Cayente, but she couldn’t lie to the Emperor. He gestured toward the musicians still playing diligently on the far side of the hall.
“Apparently, you’re so good that even the head of the royal orchestra mentioned you to me. If it’s not too much trouble, could I request a song?”
“…Pardon?”
“What do you think, Count Clue? May I ask her for one?”
Although Yulia was the one who would be performing, the Emperor posed the final question to Cayente. A gesture of respect, implying he wouldn’t put Yulia on stage without her fiancé’s consent. She appreciated that. Cayente wouldn’t allow it—so she wouldn’t have to perform unprepared.
“Go ahead.”
To her surprise, Cayente gave his permission.
“I don’t have my cello with me.”
“That instrument over there… I assume I’m not the only one who sees a cello.”
She grasped at excuses, hoping to avoid performing, but Cayente coolly ignored her pleading gaze.
“They won’t lend me their instrument.”
“Really? And whose money do you think paid for that instrument?”
“I…”
Yulia stumbled for a response, her last excuse unraveling. The Emperor waved his hand with a soft chuckle.
“It’s fine. Seems I spoke out of turn. No need to fight over it. If you don’t want to, Lady Ruper, there’s no obligation.”
“No, it’s just… I’m feeling shy. It’s been so long, but I’ll manage. I’ll play.”
So long…? Oh… right. Even back when she used to chase Cayente around the garden, she was already learning cello. And she’d kept at it ever since…
When the performance ended, the hall fell into a deep silence.
Moments later, a wave of applause erupted—loud, thunderous, and overwhelming.
The Emperor stood from his seat with a smile, applauding her performance. The other nobles soon followed, clapping in admiration.
But Yulia’s gaze was fixed on only one person.
Cayente.
He too was clapping—quietly, but deliberately.
And for a fleeting moment, his gaze softened as it met hers.
Only then did Yulia finally release the breath she had been holding.
She had just taken the first step.
Whether it was toward love, toward truth, or toward the uncertain future—
this was only the beginning.
