Chapter 5 – Issen (Part 19)

Bryant said, looking straight into his eyes.

That was the purpose he had brought with him today. It was why he welcomed the Duke’s invitation. While he could have sent a letter, it was more appropriate to make such a request in person. It was also a chance to firmly establish who the true patron of the writer was.

The Duke looked at him silently, then paused for a moment. He appeared to be carefully choosing his words. A typical noble trait.

“Are you asking me not to reveal that Miss Dale is the writer Dennis Howle?”

“Yes.”

“May I ask why?”

“She doesn’t want it to be known.”

Bryant answered without hesitation. The Duke paused again, as if to block his momentum. Then he looked deeply into his eyes. Of course, Bryant did not avoid it. After all, he wouldn’t be able to read anything from him.

“I’m fine. I understand what you mean.”

After a moment of thought, the Duke nodded compliantly. Watching him, Bryant thought of the woman.

Evelyn was uncomfortable with this man. No, it should be modified to say ‘extremely’ uncomfortable. And that bothered him quite a bit. To be precise, the tension. He didn’t like that strange tension flowing between the two.

At first, he thought it was because he was a high-ranking opponent. Hadn’t she been quite stiff even in front of Prince Logan? However, Evelyn’s behavior in front of the Duke was slightly different from when she faced the Prince. Bryant had sensed that subtle something from their first meeting in the audience chamber, and with each subsequent meeting, the feeling became more certain.

It wasn’t a reverence born from a difference in status. It was colder, sharper, and there was a peculiar sense of resistance beneath it. An odd atmosphere that even a third party could feel. Bryant knew exactly what it was.

It was the awareness between a man and a woman. The tension between the sexes.

“Thank you for understanding. It will be of great help to us.”

“There’s no need to thank me. It’s not a difficult matter at all.”

“Then I’ll be the one visiting the Artist Village, and you can mention Evelyn as my companion.”

Bryant looked directly into the Duke’s eyes. The Duke responded with a gaze of equal intensity. The two forgotten cigarettes quietly burned between the men’s fingers. Without giving them any attention, the Duke replied.

“I’ll say you’re both guests related to the publishing business.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Bryant gave a faint smile and placed the cigarette in his hand on the ashtray. Then he lifted his whiskey glass and took a sip. The rich scent of oak filled his mouth. Even though he had addressed the matter he came with and achieved what he wanted, he still felt as if he were standing on grains of sand, something deeply unsettling.

To be specific, it was that perfectly timed piece of music.

People often assign more meaning than necessary to coincidental events. Like a tiny spark thrown onto a pile of dry straw, a trivial coincidence can set a person’s heart ablaze. Bryant was aware of this, which is why it bothered him.

He was worried that the man who played that piece might have touched the woman’s heart.

It was truly a ridiculous and petty thought, yet it was bothersome nonetheless. It bothered him that he was paying attention to such things, and the situation that required such thoughts was even more bothersome. Nevertheless, Bryant couldn’t stop that petty thought.

Why did it have to be that piece?

“Your piano skills are impressive.”

When he changed the subject, the Duke looked up. He, too, had put down his cigarette and was holding his glass.

“I was surprised. It was as if you were a professional.”

“It’s an old trick.”

“A trick, you say?”

“I can only play that one piece. So wherever I go, I always play that piece, and people hearing it for the first time think I’m quite good.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Mr. Clifton, you were fooled too.”

The Duke laughed as he spoke. His eyes slightly crinkled, softening his previously stiff impression. Maybe he was a bit drunk. Having drunk several strong drinks in succession, it was understandable that the alcohol would start to take effect. Bryant, too, felt himself gradually relaxing.

“It was a performance impossible not to be fooled by.”

“That’s kind of you to say.”

“To play even one piece so perfectly, you must really like that piece.”

The Duke didn’t reply. He simply lowered his gaze with a smile of unknown meaning. Bryant’s eyes fell on his white shirt collar and silk tie. The crimson tie with neat pleats looked like a heart.

“It’s my fiancée’s favorite piece.”

It was a low voice. However, the smoking room was very quiet, and there were only the two of them. Thinking there was no way he heard wrong, Bryant had to ask again.

“You’re engaged?”

The young Duke didn’t answer immediately. He paused, like an old man recalling memories from long ago. His eyes lowered at an angle. When those eyes finally looked back at him, Bryant could see a slight change in the green pupils.

“Yes. I am.”

The Duke said.

“Three years ago.”

What on earth is this? 

Bryant slightly furrowed his brow. The first face that came to mind was Reinus’s. How would she react if she heard this? She wouldn’t be pleased to learn that the Duke got engaged without her knowing.

And it’s been three years, no less.

Having thought that far, Bryant tilted his head.

“The engagement period is quite long.”

It was strange. Extremely.

“Forgive me, but given your circumstances, you should have hurried to marry.”

“It happened due to circumstances.”

The Duke answered briefly with a calm face. Then he took the cigarette he had left unattended back to his lips. Watching him, Bryant thought. 

Circumstances. What kind of circumstances would delay a marriage for three years? Even with a fiancée, why did he leave the Duchess’s position vacant for so long? If he had a fiancée, why was the Empress completely unaware of it? What kind of circumstances would make him endure the public’s curiosity and ridicule without an heir at that age?

Nothing added up. It was a situation that didn’t make sense according to his common sense and reason. Therefore, those ‘circumstances’ must be something irrational and illogical. However, ‘irrational’ and ‘illogical’ were not words that suited this young Duke. 

This boringly proper and rigid man? This stiff Northerner living in a house like a museum?

Three years. Three years ago.

At that moment, like a flash, a face crossed his mind. But Bryant dismissed it with laughter. He’d have to be crazy. It was an absurd thought.

A completely ridiculous thought.

“Have you set a wedding date?”

Even so, the impulsive question was thrown out. 

Had I drunk too much? Is that why I’m entertaining such absurd thoughts and actions? 

Bryant blamed the whiskey in his hand.

Fortunately, the Duke didn’t show any discomfort. Rather, he continued the conversation as if he’d been waiting.

“No. I should soon.”

“That’s good news. I suppose the wedding will be held on your estate.”

“Most likely.”

“It will be quite a sight. I’m curious about what kind of person the Duchess will be.”

Bryant emphasized ‘Duchess’ and laughed. The Duke looked at him in silence for a moment. Then he brought the cigarette in his hand to his mouth. He slowly inhaled until the tip burned red and gradually exhaled the smoke through his lips. Throughout, he steadily watched his opponent’s eyes. In his green eyes, blurred by smoke, a faint, bluish smile flickered.

“I’ll invite you, Mr. Clifton.”

The Duke said. And he smiled. The distinctly social expression was somehow slanted. It was no longer so stiff or formal. At least, that’s how it appeared to Bryant.

“I’ll be sure to come, Duke Windberg.”

Bryant responded with a gentle smile as usual. He showed a polite yet friendly expression. But he couldn’t be sure how his own gaze appeared to the Duke.

*

…Anxiety is like a scent. You can feel it even before you see its form. Louisa could sense that something bad was approaching, getting closer and closer.

…She couldn’t accept the fact that he wasn’t focused on her. To captivate him once more, she poured all her enthusiasm into it. She clung desperately. She cried out pitifully. Ah, where do the eyes that once looked at me now turn?

…If she couldn’t monopolize that gaze, Louisa would rather blind his eyes.

<The Blooming Mansion> ‘Chapter 5. The Prelude to Madness’