What Remains in the Damaged Place - Side Story 2 (3)

“…”

“If you had easily given in and asked for help back then… Well, I wonder.”

Valderion lifted Roselean into the air, making her squeal in both fear and delight. As she let out a small cry, Valderion smiled and brought her back into his arms, patting her gently.

“I wonder if we’d be here now.”

Their relationship had been built brick by brick, a carefully constructed foundation. That was why Lirette was confident she wouldn’t regret choosing this man. The trust between them, built over time, was solid, something she could look back on without fear of it crumbling.

The key difference between him and Dylan had been clear.

Valderion had always prioritized her, even when stepping over the tangled remnants of rebellion, bloodlines, and struggles from the past. He had pulled her out of a life where it seemed natural to suppress all desires and emotions, reigniting the flame in her heart. He had transformed the shackles of their shared bond, the Name, from a symbol of oppression into one of freedom.

In short, under the happiness they now shared, there had never been a moment wasted.

“If it’s not kinship, then is it sympathy?”

“Hmmm… I haven’t spoken much to Lady Ezra, but she seems quiet, constantly watching her surroundings.”

“…”

“That made me think of our little Rosie.”

Hearing her nickname, Roselean lifted her head to look at her mother.

“Our girl is shy and timid too.”

Lirette gently stroked her daughter’s soft, milky-white cheek.

“Sometimes I wonder which one of us she takes after… or maybe we both have that side to us, without realizing it.”

“Not me.”

Valderion’s quick denial made Lirette burst out laughing. Meanwhile, Roselean, clueless about what was so amusing, glanced back and forth between her parents with her innocent, wide eyes.

***

The tea party had certainly opened doors.

While Lirette hadn’t gone out of her way to make a strong impression, her debut as the mistress of the Justitia family had definitely sparked curiosity.

The evidence came in the form of invitations. They flooded into the mansion, flowing in like water.

It was a kind of welcome she could understand.

Even if Lirette had been impolite that day, the outcome likely wouldn’t have changed. The Justitia family, with power rivaling that of the royal family, was one everyone wanted to associate with. Many noblewomen, especially those who had attended the tea party hosted by the Empress, sent invitations, proving their strong influence in the social sphere.

All except one person: Lady Ezra.

As Lirette organized the stacked invitations and stood up, she noticed how unusually quiet the house had become. Sure enough, the twins had fallen asleep, curled up against Camon, who lay sprawled out on the floor.

Evante, with his limbs spread wide, and Roselean, curled up tightly like a newborn, slept soundly. Their soft, rosy cheeks puffed up and deflated with each breath, their peaceful faces tightening Lirette’s heart with affection. They were so precious it almost hurt to look at them. The painful memories of giving birth to two children at once—feeling as though she might die from the agony—had long since faded.

“My lady,”

A quiet voice called from behind. Turning, Lirette saw the head maid bowing slightly.

“It’s time to start getting ready.”

Nodding, Lirette asked the maid to summon the nanny. Soon, the nanny hurried in, and together they gently lifted the twins to take them to their room. As always, despite their occasional squabbles, the twins slept curled up next to each other in the large cradle that Valderion had custom-made for them.

“I hope they don’t wake up,” Lirette murmured quietly, earning a sympathetic smile from the nanny.

Tonight, the grand celebration at the Imperial Palace, in honor of the founding anniversary, was to take place. Having shown her face at the tea party, it was only fitting that Lirette would now attend the grand event as the Duchess of Justitia. She had expected this from the beginning.

Among the dresses Valderion had filled her wardrobe with, Lirette chose one in a soft coral shade, complementing the color of her eyes. As she began to dress and style her hair, Valderion, already prepared, entered the room. His gaze lingered on her bare neck as she twisted her hair up, revealing her nape. Without a word, he walked over to the jewelry box, selecting a small opal necklace that matched her hairpiece, and fastened it around her neck himself.

“Shall we go?”

Taking his hand, Lirette stood without hesitation.

The carriage ride to the palace was swift, and they soon arrived at the grand entrance, where bright lights and the fanfare of trumpets greeted them. The occasional clinking of glasses could be heard, along with the soft hum of conversations and laughter, which seemed to settle like mist over the ground.

It felt almost like attending a second wedding.

Eyes from all around were drawn to them, even from guests seated on the second floor, whose gazes Lirette could feel even though she couldn’t see them. As her hand tightened on Valderion’s arm, he unlinked their arms and gently wrapped his arm around her waist.

Perhaps it was due to the Name bond, or maybe it was just the comforting effect of his touch, but Lirette found her breathing slowing and returning to normal.

And just like that, people began to swarm toward them. Some were familiar faces, others not. The ones Lirette recognized were those Valderion had previously introduced her to. The crowd naturally shifted toward the nearby table, where drinks had been placed, and someone passed Lirette a glass. Just as she was about to take hold of it, the glass slipped away—Valderion had swiftly taken it from her and sipped it himself, his gesture clearly conveying that he would be the one to taste it first. Lirette, sensing his intent, lowered her hand, accepting his caution without protest.

“Oh, by the way…”

“Is that so? From what I heard…”

“If you’re referring to that incident, I heard…”

As they engaged in polite conversation, the topics shifted in multiple directions. Despite the crowd surrounding them, one thing was clear: everyone was eager to hear the Duke of Justitia’s opinion. Whether it was about politics, business, or trivial matters, Valderion remained aloof, responding with measured indifference, letting the others stew in their curiosity. His commanding presence was unmistakable as he skillfully maintained control.

But his true attention was elsewhere.

“My wife’s debutante ball, it seems,” he whispered playfully into Lirette’s ear.

And indeed, it felt that way.

Having never had a proper coming-of-age ceremony before her family was torn apart, this evening was almost like her debut into society.

“It’s okay to make a mistake at a debutante ball.”

“Well, this isn’t exactly a debutante ball…”

Lirette sighed softly, fiddling with the empty glass he had set down.

“I’m worried. What if the children wake up?”

“They’ll be fine. There are plenty of people looking after them.”

“I’m more worried about Rosie. She cries endlessly unless one of us holds her.”

“It’s probably becoming a habit. That’s why it’s good for us to step away once in a while.”

“She’s still a baby. Isn’t that a bit too harsh…”

Before Lirette could finish her sentence, she made eye contact with someone across the room. And then with another person. It dawned on her that most of the guests were now watching her and Valderion. Overwhelmed by the sudden attention, she instinctively grabbed Valderion’s arm.

“Well, well, you two seem so cozy! There’s hardly been a moment to join the conversation,” one guest teased.

“Exactly. I’ve been watching for a while now, and the Duke hasn’t left his wife’s side for a second,” another added.

“What delightful topic are you two discussing that has you both so engrossed?”

Lirette hadn’t expected such focused attention, and while she felt flustered, Valderion remained perfectly calm, sipping from his glass before casually responding.

“We’re newlyweds, aren’t we?”

Just that one word—“newlyweds”—sent a ripple of excitement through the group. The varied interests of the crowd suddenly coalesced into a single topic. They soon launched into an enthusiastic debate over how many years one could still be considered “newlyweds.”

“Your Grace…”

A sudden presence approached from behind.

It was Sir Tilin, who had accompanied them to the event. He whispered something discreetly into Valderion’s ear.

“Now?” Valderion asked.

“Yes,” Sir Tilin replied.

It seemed someone had called for Valderion’s presence. Nodding slightly, Valderion sent Sir Tilin ahead and turned to Lirette.

“The Emperor is requesting my presence, so I’ll need to step away for a while.”

“Should I go with you?” Lirette asked.

“No, that’s not necessary. But would you feel comfortable staying here alone?”

Lirette hesitated, feeling a bit out of place in the crowd, and gave a slight nod. Valderion scanned the room briefly before suggesting, “How about going to the salon?”

The salon was a lounge reserved for the noble ladies, a place where they could take a break from the festivities. Thinking it would be more peaceful there, Lirette agreed.

“Oh, Duchess!”

“You’re here tonight!”

The salon, though less crowded than the main hall, was far from empty. A number of finely dressed noblewomen had gathered, many of them sparkling with jewelry and laughter. Among them were several familiar faces from the Empress’s tea party, who approached Lirette as soon as they spotted her.

She hadn’t planned to sit with anyone, but soon found herself joining them out of politeness.

‘Well, it’s better to be with people I know than to sit alone,’ she thought, trying to make the best of it.

As she relaxed and adjusted to the environment, she noticed Lady Ezra sitting quietly at the same table. As usual, Lady Ezra seemed uncomfortable and detached, sitting off to the side like an outsider observing the group rather than participating.

“Lady Ezra, would you mind passing the empty teacup over there?” one of the women asked.

The salon, known for its gossip, operated differently from the rest of the palace. No attendants were stationed there permanently. If something was needed, they would ring a bell to call for service. At that moment, a new tea set was nearby on the side table, conveniently close to Lady Ezra.

Clearly caught off guard by the sudden request, Lady Ezra fumbled, her movements hesitant as she reached for the cup. Her shawl, draped over her shoulders, got in the way, and in her attempt to adjust it, she accidentally knocked the teacup off the table.

Crash!

The sharp sound of shattering porcelain filled the air, accompanied by gasps from the women around her.

“Oh my!”

“What happened?”

The room’s attention turned to Lady Ezra, who stood up abruptly, her face flushed red with embarrassment. She quickly knelt to the floor, attempting to pick up the pieces in a panic. Though a servant could easily have been called to handle the situation, Lady Ezra’s mind seemed to go blank, leaving her scrambling on her own.

Feeling a pang of guilt, Lirette stood up, wanting to help. Just as another woman rang for a servant, Lirette approached Lady Ezra, intending to calm her.

But then, as Lady Ezra moved awkwardly, her shawl slipped off her arm—and that’s when Lirette saw it.

Her eyes locked on the pale, slender arm, just above the elbow, where dark, blotchy bruises were visible.

Lady Ezra had yet to realize that her shawl had slipped, exposing her bruised arm. But it didn’t take long. As she noticed Lirette’s frozen expression and the direction of her gaze, Lady Ezra quickly realized what had been seen. In a flustered rush, she pulled the shawl back over her arm, her movements hasty and desperate.

“Are you all right?” one of the ladies asked.

“We’ll clean this up, my lady,” said one of the servants, who had rushed over after being summoned.

Both Lady Ezra and Lirette returned to their seats, and fortunately, it seemed that no one else had noticed the marks on Lady Ezra’s arm. The atmosphere quickly resumed its light-hearted tone, with laughter and gossip filling the air once again.

However, two women remained out of sync with the conversation—the only two who had shared that silent moment of revelation.

Lirette’s fingers, wrapped around her teacup, felt cold and numb. Her heart, too, was beating faster than usual. She couldn’t deny the shock she had felt upon seeing those bruises. She knew that people could be cruel, but witnessing such stark evidence of violence in a place so full of elegance and decorum had rattled her.

‘Lady Ezra must have been practically sold into marriage to the Count, with the Viscount Frant family’s enormous debt,’ Valderion had told her. If Lady Ezra’s bruises were the result of her husband’s violence, the only person capable of inflicting such harm had to be Count Ezra himself.

But how could anyone treat their wife like that? Especially knowing she would be attending an event so public?