The women stared at Lyla with pale, frightened faces, as if they had seen a ghost.
Judging by the confused looks on their faces and how they fidgeted with their ears, it seemed they were wondering if they had misheard something.
But their hearing was perfectly fine.
Lyla smoothly continued speaking.
{It’s not polite to point out others’ mistakes, so I won’t go into it. However, there’s one thing you’ve completely misunderstood. I didn’t want to embarrass you, but if I leave it uncorrected, you might end up humiliated elsewhere. It’s not ‘Patrasche,’ it’s ‘Patnigesche.’}
The young ladies’ jaws dropped.
“What…!”
{And by the way, what Patnigesche said doesn’t mean what you implied. You need to understand the full context, but I won’t go into that either.}
Not that you’d listen properly, anyway.
Lyla swallowed the last of her words with a sip of tea. Her throat was dry after speaking for so long.
The quiet drawing room was filled with only the soft sound of Lyla sipping her tea.
“Hah!”
Breaking the silence, Caroline finally spoke up.
“Have you been deceiving us all this time?”
Her face was flushed with anger and humiliation as she shouted.
The sharp sound of her raised voice pierced Lyla’s ears, but she remained completely unfazed, calmly locking eyes with Caroline.
Meanwhile…
“Haha! Mr. Tesset, you seem well-versed in international affairs. Are you perhaps involved in trade?”
“Something like that.”
“I see! I run a small business myself…”
A bright smile had been plastered across Viscount Ransfield’s face the entire time.
And with good reason—his conversation with Aslan was both enjoyable and informative. No matter the topic—politics, economics, art, philosophy—Aslan was never at a loss for words.
Moreover, he was skilled in physical activities as well. During his university days, he enjoyed fencing and boxing, and although he had given it up, he once had a passion for hunting. He was even excellent at billiards.
‘As expected.’
Viscount Ransfield’s eyes gleamed with admiration.
‘He’s not someone who belongs in a place like this.’
For some reason, he seemed to be hiding his true identity, the viscount was certain that Aslan held a much higher status than he could have imagined—someone beyond his reach.
Based on the wealth, education, and exceptional insight Aslan revealed during their conversation, the viscount’s conclusion was clear.
‘I thought this time I’d finally secure a marriage, but it seems out of reach now. Still, it’s not a bad outcome.’
Viscount Ransfield’s lingering attachment disappeared as he chose Aslan over Lyla.
Although he still harbored a liking for Lyla, his desire to grow closer to Aslan had overshadowed any romantic interest he once had. Establishing a connection with Aslan now could lead to future advantages. Perhaps, when he went to Central, he could find his way into the inner circles of high society.
‘Today, I need to bond with him as much as possible and set up the next meeting.’
To do that, his priority was to ensure that Aslan enjoyed their time together. However, Viscount Ransfield’s ambitious plan had already gone off track from the start.
Standing at the billiards table, Aslan was barely concealing his boredom, constantly checking the time. Deep down, he wanted to rush back to Lyla, but he remembered her words before they had come here and restrained himself.
[I know there won’t be another meeting after this, but I still want to get through today without causing any issues.]
Lyla had emphasized the latter part—getting through the day without any problems. It was clear she meant for Aslan to avoid stirring up any trouble.
Aslan understood why Lyla was acting this way. She was concerned that if they offended Viscount Ransfield, a local influential figure, her family might suffer the consequences.
If Aslan wanted to, he could easily control someone like Viscount Ransfield. However, there are things that money and power can’t fully resolve—the hearts of people.
Even if Aslan intervened and managed to control Viscount Ransfield and the townspeople, Lyla’s family might be spared from outward rejection. But, deep down, the townspeople would begin to avoid them, and they wouldn’t be able to enjoy the same open, friendly atmosphere they currently had.
Aslan didn’t want that either.
It wasn’t just because they were Lyla’s family. After living under the same roof, sharing space and time, Lyla’s family had gradually become precious to him, second only to Lyla herself.
Not wanting to cause any harm to them, Aslan suppressed his emotions and played along with Viscount Ransfield. He responded to the dull conversation out of politeness and didn’t completely ignore the woman who had introduced herself as the viscount’s sister.
He had done well so far, so he felt that he should at least endure this trivial social game for a little longer, even though he desperately wanted to return to the sitting room.
“It’s your turn, Sir Tesset.”
Gripping the cue stick, Aslan adjusted his stance and bent forward.
Thwack!
With a sharp crack, the billiard balls scattered in different directions.
Time dragged on like a slow-moving beetle, and Aslan could even hear the faint ticking of the minute hand. He glanced at the clock, deciding that he had fulfilled his social obligations.
“I think it’s time for me to take my leave. It’s getting late,” he said.
“How about staying for dinner? I can ask the chef to prepare a special meal just for the occasion,” Viscount Ransfield suggested.
“I appreciate the offer, but I already have a prior engagement for tonight.”
“Ah, I see,” the Viscount replied, clearly disappointed, but he couldn’t push further to keep Aslan from leaving.
‘Of course. A busy man like Sir Tesset must have a packed schedule,’ the Viscount thought, resigning himself. Instead of insisting, he tried to set up another meeting while making their way toward the drawing room.
However—
“Was that just now an insult to me and Diana—no, to the entire Ransfield family?!”
Before the door to the sitting room was fully open, the tense atmosphere hit them.
The shrill voice and, more disturbingly, the content of the words struck a nerve.
“It’s no surprise she behaves that way—someone like her who knows nothing, who’s never been taught anything!”
Viscount Ransfield instinctively glanced at Aslan, only to freeze.
The faint smile Aslan had worn throughout the day was gone, leaving his face completely expressionless.
His expression, emotionless and beautiful like a statue, made him appear even colder.
A chilling premonition crept over Viscount Ransfield, as if something terrible was about to happen. He swallowed hard.
‘I have to go in there and express my anger first.’
That way, he could distance Caroline from the Ransfield family and leave a favorable impression on Aslan. However, before he could tighten his grip on the door handle, someone else acted first.
“I’m sorry to hear you feel that way,” said a calm voice.
It was Lyla, who had been enduring Caroline’s outburst from the beginning.
“But wouldn’t you say that the words Miss Caroline spoke about me were also a disregard for myself and my family?”
Despite being in a situation where most people would struggle to speak due to anger, Lyla remained composed. That, in itself, was intimidating.
As Caroline spluttered, searching for a way to retort—
Click.
The door opened, and the two men standing outside stepped into the drawing room.
Caroline jumped in surprise, and Diana, who had been quietly observing the argument, shrank into herself, trying to disappear. Even Lyla, who had maintained her calm demeanor all along, widened her eyes slightly in shock.
‘Did they hear everything?’
As the three women pondered the same question, all eyes were on Aslan, who silently stepped forward. Without hesitation, he walked over to Lyla and gently brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.
“You have a slight fever. Are you alright?” he asked.
If Lyla had even subtly shaken her head, Aslan was ready to act immediately. However, Lyla didn’t respond right away. It wasn’t because she was actually unwell, nor was she overwhelmed by Aslan’s concern.
She was simply surprised.
…This was a signal known only to the two of them.
A signal Aslan had used in the past when he wanted to help Lyla, who was being ostracized in social circles.
It was something he would do when Lyla was surrounded and isolated by other women, as he couldn’t confront them directly. The signal was a way of telling her to step away from the situation for the time being.
Aslan would approach Lyla, sensing something was off, brush her cheek, and ask if she was unwell. If Lyla responded affirmatively, either through words or action, Aslan would assist her, helping her leave.
[My wife isn’t feeling well, so we must excuse ourselves.]
With such an excuse, no one could stop them from leaving.
If Lyla wanted to stay, she could softly refuse, and Aslan would trust her judgment and return to his place.
Though they hadn’t verbally agreed on it, after experiencing similar situations a few times, this had become an unspoken understanding between them.
However, that was in the past—before Aslan had lost his memory.
Lyla had never explained this signal to him, so it should only exist in her memory. Aslan, who had lost his memories, couldn’t possibly know about it.
‘Was it just a coincidence? Or… did he somehow know?’
