The gentleman pressed Anaïs as if interrogating her.

“Was that the case with Lady Daphne Armin as well? Is that why he entered with you instead of accompanying her today…? Hmm, then the rumors of discord between the Mücke and Armin families seem quite convincing. But what do you plan to do when Marquis Werner Armin returns?”

“I absolutely cannot listen to this. You’re being incredibly rude. Let me out!”

The gentleman tried to stop her, but Anaïs stubbornly insisted.

He watched her trudge away and hail a hired carriage before setting off again.

With an expression happier than a fisherman who had caught a huge fish, he shouted to the coachman.

“Go to the newspaper office right away!”

“At this hour?”

“My good man, when you’ve caught a scoop like this, does the time matter?”

He laughed heartily. He was a reporter for the Empire’s largest gossip magazine.

The coachman thought his passenger must have picked up something interesting while lurking around the ball. Sighing, he muttered:

“No early finish for me today, I guess.”

⁕⁕⁕

During his journey home, Leonhardt felt the fog in his mind gradually clearing, replaced by mounting concern.

If Gustav discovered not only what he had done today but also that he had sold the inheritance from his grandmother…

‘He already disapproved of me so much, this might even put my position as heir in jeopardy.’

This wasn’t an exaggerated worry.

As a child, Leonhardt had once asked Barbara if Gustav was really his biological father.

Gustav never beat him or punished him excessively in the name of education. He also provided treatment befitting a young duke.

Yet Leonhardt questioned their relationship because of countless small incidents that were difficult to pinpoint specifically.

Sometimes he would feel an eerie sensation and turn around to find Gustav staring at him. It wasn’t anger exactly, but a gaze filled with something like winter wind.

This gradually grew, with disapproval and discontent added to the mix.

If that were all, Leonhardt could have endured it indefinitely.

But after Gustav confined him for allegedly angering Daphne, Leonhardt changed his thinking about his father.

He sensed that even his succession might be at risk.

Though he couldn’t provide evidence, it was an instinctive feeling.

Upon arriving at the mansion, Leonhardt immediately sought out the head butler, Fred.

Fred couldn’t hide his surprise at Leonhardt’s early return. Just as he was about to ask what had happened, Leonhardt, unable to conceal his anxiety, asked first:

“Has there been any message from my parents?”

“Pardon?”

Fred stood dumbfounded for a moment.

Even this irritated Leonhardt.

By now, Gustav must have learned about his behavior at the ball. If so, he would have contacted the mansion to have Leonhardt detained… Unless Fred was pretending not to know for some ulterior motive.

But Fred, still genuinely confused, hesitated only briefly before calmly answering.

“As you know, young duke, the Duke didn’t depart immediately after you. There have been no messages since then.”

“What about Mother?”

Fred’s brow furrowed deeply.

“I’m sorry, young duke.”

“What is it?”

“Are you truly asking because you don’t know?”

Leonhardt, his patience worn thin, erupted in anger.

“What game are you playing with me!”

Seeing Fred’s still rigid expression, Leonhardt finally grew serious.

He strode up to Fred and grabbed his arms.

“Where is my mother?”

Fred inwardly swallowed a sigh.

Gustav had given no instructions to withhold information, and it was strange that Leonhardt hadn’t inquired about Barbara’s well-being.

Fred first sat Leonhardt down to calm him, then methodically explained everything—from Barbara’s confinement in the annex to the fact that Leonhardt had never once asked about her until now.

Leonhardt remained speechless for a while.

‘Of course, if I had been confined, Mother would certainly have come looking for me.’

Even if she couldn’t meet him, she would naturally at least inquire about his welfare from outside the door.

The usual Barbara would have somehow persuaded Gustav to release her son. Or at least reassured him not to worry, promising his release.

“…How could I have been completely unaware that Mother wasn’t here?”

No matter how annoying he might have found it, she was his mother. It was unbelievable that he hadn’t looked for her despite her absence for days.

Leonhardt buried his face in his palms, breathing heavily before suddenly stopping.

Fred, watching with concern, cautiously asked:

“Young duke, are you alright?”

But Leonhardt couldn’t hear him.

Through the fingers covering his face, he caught sight of the cufflinks on his sleeve. He froze in shock.

The orange cufflinks Anaïs had given him were broken. One was completely missing its stone, while the other retained only crumbled fragments. The remaining faded pieces looked like dark stones.

Leonhardt recalled Anaïs’s necklace that had broken before the Emperor. When he tried to help her pick it up, he had hesitated upon seeing the color change.

He vividly remembered what Anaïs had said when giving him this gift:

“Think of me and never take them off!”

He had been entranced by her flushed face as she said those words. As she requested, Leonhardt had consistently worn only these cufflinks since receiving them.

Normally, he disliked wearing the same clothes twice and detested even a single accessory that didn’t harmonize with his outfit.

Despite such fastidiousness, he had worn these cufflinks persistently.

Had he really been such a romantic lover?

He asked himself this and immediately shook his head.

He realized that his love-crazed behavior had begun after receiving this gift.

‘Anaïs… Something’s suspicious!’

With a cold expression, Leonhardt slowly removed the cufflinks and carefully placed them in an envelope.

Fred, standing several steps away, grew tense.

He had expected Leonhardt to rush to Barbara and cause a scene… but instead, he was staring at his cufflinks as if bewitched, which Fred couldn’t understand.

Indeed, his young master hadn’t been himself lately.

Finally, Leonhardt spoke.

“Let me know when Father arrives.”

Then he smirked.

“Actually, that won’t be necessary. He’ll come straight to my room upon arrival.”

“…What do you mean?”

Fred asked, but received no answer. Though clearly dismissed, Fred continued staring as if Leonhardt had forgotten something. Finally, Leonhardt asked:

“How is Mother doing?”

“She was severely shocked at first. Fortunately, she’s physically recovered now and seems to have accepted the situation.”

Fred hesitated whether to add that Barbara was still looking for Leonhardt, just as she had from the beginning. He glanced at his young master’s face.

His face resembled a cracked mirror. The sudden romance with Anaïs, followed by rumors of breaking his engagement, and then confinement by Gustav.

None of it was like him.

Though not as warm as Daphne, by aristocratic standards, Leonhardt was considered good-natured. He knew how to use power intelligently and coldly, but never wielded it recklessly.

Yet he had committed such rash acts. If Fred found it hard to believe, how must Leonhardt himself feel?

Fred sensed that the shock was hitting him now. Though anxious, he also felt relieved. Perhaps the sanity they had been waiting for was returning.

Leonhardt requested in a slightly cracked voice:

“Please take good care of Mother.”

“Don’t worry.”

“And tell her I’ll visit in a few days, so she should prepare herself to return as Duchess.”

Leonhardt’s face revealed his determination to fix everything he had done. It was a resoluteness that Fred, who had served him since birth, had never seen before.

Fred bowed and withdrew, immediately breathing a sigh of relief—a relief felt only because he remained completely unaware of what Leonhardt had done at the ball.

⁕⁕⁕

On the day of the ball, Gustav had departed from home in a separate carriage from Leonhardt, as usual.

But shortly after leaving, the carriage stopped, and a guard knight knocked on the door.

“Your Highness, there’s a fire at the spinning mill.”

Looking toward where the knight pointed, Gustav saw black smoke rising from the direction of a factory owned by House Mücke.

The outskirts of the capital were densely packed with spinning mills. If the fire spread to other locations, it would be disastrous.

Moreover, it was Founding Day. Given the occasion, this couldn’t be ignored. Gustav made a quick decision.

“The young duke will go to the ballroom, and I’ll head to the factory.”