What Remains in the Damaged Place - Chapter 37

With a clap from the head maid, the murmuring crowd quickly fell silent.

Pulled to the very front by Hardy, Lirette stood awkwardly, smoothing her skirt as though preparing herself to greet someone important. It felt strange to be adjusting her appearance while waiting for Valderion in such a formal setting, so unlike their nighttime meetings where the circumstances were entirely different.

After a brief pause, the grand doors swung open.

Valderion entered the room with the same confidence he always displayed, showing no hesitation despite the large crowd gathered to greet him. His presence was commanding, and he moved forward with purpose, brushing past one person after another with little regard.

He appeared too preoccupied to acknowledge the gathering properly. His attention was fixed on his advisor, who was walking beside him, rapidly giving him updates.

It was a common sight during these formal welcomes, and for that reason, Lirette always found them somewhat pointless.

Why gather all these people if he’s not even paying attention to them? she thought, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. The formalities seemed unnecessary when Valderion barely acknowledged who was present.

But just as she was lost in thought, Valderion abruptly stopped in his tracks.

The sudden pause sent a ripple of tension through the room.

Everyone stiffened, subtly checking their appearance and holding their breath, unsure of the reason for the duke’s halt. Only Lirette, standing near him, dared to keep her eyes open, though she quickly regretted it when Valderion slowly turned his gaze toward her.

Her heart lurched as she quickly lowered her eyes, remembering the head maid’s constant warnings: Never meet the master’s gaze. You’ll get in trouble.

She had hoped it was just a fleeting glance, something that wouldn’t amount to anything. But when Valderion took a step toward her, she felt her heart tighten in her chest.

The hall was devoid of any breeze, yet it felt as though a chill had swept through the room, carried by the subtle shift in the atmosphere. Valderion’s presence created an unsettling ripple around him.

“Your Grace?” the advisor called softly, trying to remind Valderion of the pressing matters they needed to discuss, but Valderion remained unmoved, his attention fixed entirely on Lirette. The silence stretched, suffocating, as the weight of his presence filled the room.

Lirette stood frozen under the pressure of all the eyes now trained on her, unsure of what to do.

And then, out of nowhere, she saw his hand.

His long, precise fingers, always so steady when holding a cigar or pen, reached out toward her. Those hands had surely been stained with the blood of many, yet now they approached her with a gentleness that felt unnervingly out of place.

She forgot to breathe.

His fingers slipped under her chin, tilting her head upward with the same easy arrogance he always displayed. Her gaze, which had been fixed downward, was slowly lifted, her view expanding until the chandelier’s bright lights came into focus.

But what burned more intensely was the man standing before her.

Dark hair framed his face, and his piercing golden eyes bore into hers. His features were sharp, sculpted with an almost unnatural perfection, like glasswork crafted by a master artisan.

Standing before him, surrounded by so many people, felt surreal. The intensity of his presence, now focused solely on her, was overwhelming.

“It’s crooked,” Valderion said softly.

For a moment, Lirette thought he was referring to her personality, a sarcastic jab she was accustomed to from him.

But when his fingers glided down from her chin and brushed against the ribbon tied at her neckline, she realized what he meant.

Without hesitation, Valderion untied the ribbon, his movements swift and assured. Despite the simplicity of the action, it sent a chill through Lirette. It was just a ribbon, but the sudden loosening of her clothes made her feel vulnerable, as though she were exposed before everyone in the room.

The silence around them was stifling. Lirette could almost hear the sound of people swallowing nervously as they tried not to look but were undoubtedly aware of every movement.

She could feel their attention weighing down on her, making her feel like some kind of spectacle. Her hands grew cold, and her fingers twitched as she fought the urge to fidget under the collective gaze of the room.

He’s tying it again, she realized as Valderion calmly retied the ribbon with practiced ease. His touch was infuriatingly smooth, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin as he tightened the knot in a neat bow.

For someone who had no business being so attentive, Valderion was surprisingly meticulous.

How kind of him, she thought bitterly.

He wasn’t usually this familiar with others—his cold and distant nature was well-known. And yet, here he was, openly adjusting her clothes in front of an audience. The indignation bubbled inside her, but she forced herself to remain still, her nails digging into her palms to stop herself from reacting.

The rumors about her being his mistress were already swirling through the servants, making her situation even more uncomfortable. And now, with him openly fussing over her appearance, those rumors would only grow worse.

Valderion, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil he was causing within her, gave the ribbon one final tug before stepping back, lightly tapping the ends of the bow to straighten it.

“A maid’s first duty is to maintain her appearance,” he said softly, his voice carrying a faint smile.

The smile he gave her was dazzling, like something out of a portrait. It was almost too perfect, too deliberate, as though he was putting on a show.

Lirette clenched her fists even tighter, her body trembling ever so slightly under the pressure of it all.

Valderion’s actions were akin to pouring fuel onto the already smoldering rumors about Lirette being his mistress. It was clear now that he was cementing those rumors intentionally.

Is he really okay with people thinking I’m his mistress, rather than risking the truth about my Name? Lirette wondered, feeling a bitter mixture of confusion and resignation.

With his goal achieved, Valderion finally stepped away. His blatant and unusual behavior had left an impact, evidenced by the stunned expression of his advisor, who stood frozen, mouth slightly agape.

***

The spring sunlight bathed the garden in warmth, while a butterfly fluttered between the blossoming flowers, drawn by their sweet fragrance. Soon enough, the butterfly drifted toward the table, where the scent of tea and delicate pastries mingled in the air.

The soft laughter of the women gathered around the table carried lightly on the breeze, intertwining with the sound of their conversation. The table was as lavish as the women seated around it—bright teacups and plates of treats, but even more dazzling were their ornate dresses and sparkling jewelry. Every inch of their attire gleamed with gemstones, leaving no space unadorned.

“By the way, hasn’t it been two years since Lady Floyden became engaged?” one woman remarked, seamlessly shifting the topic of conversation.

“Goodness, has it really been that long?” another responded, a note of surprise in her voice.

All eyes turned toward the end of the table, where today’s hostess, Camille Floyden, sat gracefully lifting her teacup. Camille’s expression was one of mild surprise, as if she hadn’t expected to become the topic of conversation.

Her bright green eyes shimmered with a touch of innocent charm, perfectly complementing the lush, vibrant garden of her family’s estate where the tea party was being held.

“Indeed, it has been,” Camille replied softly.

Her casual agreement made the other women’s eyes light up with curiosity.

As if unfazed by their attention, Camille took a slow sip of her tea. No sooner had she set her cup down than someone else broke the silence.

“You’ve been engaged for quite some time now. Surely, we can expect some happy news soon?” one of the women prodded, her voice thick with anticipation.

Understanding that the topic had shifted to her impending marriage to Valderion, Camille stifled a small smile. She neither confirmed nor denied the question, offering only a neutral response that left the others eager for more. Her reserved attitude only heightened their interest, making them press further.

“Have any plans been discussed yet?” one woman asked, her voice tinged with excitement.

“Yes, Lady Camille, we don’t often get the chance to ask these things. It’s not every day we get such an intimate gathering,” another chimed in, her tone reminding them all that this was an informal and private tea party.

Indeed, today’s gathering was a secretive affair. Camille had carefully selected the attendees, inviting only those with high social standing and influence within the empire. This was a rare opportunity for them to discuss the goings-on of high society away from prying eyes, and they relished the chance to be included.

The fact that Camille Floyden, the daughter of a powerful family and the fiancée of Duke Valderion of Justitia, was hosting made it all the more prestigious. The Floyden family, already formidable in their own right, had only grown more influential due to their ties with the Duke of Justitia. In the eyes of society, Camille was one of the most sought-after women in the empire, and her marriage to Valderion would only elevate her further.

“I’m in no rush to move things forward,” Camille said finally, her voice measured and calm. “Marriage may seem like a simple matter, but it’s an important decision that shapes the future. Besides, His Grace is so busy with his duties.”

“That’s exactly why the timing is perfect,” one of the women countered. “With how busy he is, wouldn’t it be ideal to have a wife as capable as you to help manage the household?”

“Absolutely.”

“You and the Duke are such a perfect match. Where else could we find such a stunning pair?”

“Indeed! Every time I see you together at a banquet, it’s like watching something out of a storybook. It makes my heart flutter just thinking about it.”

The women were clearly eager to see Camille marry Valderion, as it would strengthen their own connections to her and, by extension, to the powerful Justitia family. Camille was well aware of this, but she didn’t mind their thinly veiled push for information. It amused her, and their eager flattery only fueled her confidence.

A soft smile lingered on her lips as she listened to them, content with the direction of the conversation. She radiated a sense of quiet certainty, as if to say, There’s no need to rush—everything is going according to plan.

Her composed demeanor only deepened the sense of inevitability surrounding her future as Valderion’s wife. Everyone present knew it was only a matter of time before the grand announcement was made.

And Camille, with her delicate laughter and poised presence, didn’t mind letting them believe that her marriage to the Duke was a foregone conclusion.