“What else would it be… Oh, the curse?”

Realizing something mid-sentence, Hailey asked offhandedly. Mastis gave her a calm, measured look.

With a deep sigh, Mastis warned her in a stern voice.

“Miss Hailey.”

As expected, her loyalty bent inward—to the Duke.

‘Looks like Marty’s loyalty will never lean toward me.’

As Hailey pouted with disappointment, Mastis asked carefully.

“Are you curious about the Duke’s face?”

Hailey nodded readily, as if wondering why she would even need to ask such an obvious question.

“Of course I am. I’m going to be engaged to him—might as well hope he’s handsome.”

“Haa…”

Mastis let out a long sigh and pressed a hand to her forehead.

Hailey glanced at her cautiously, wondering if she had said something wrong again. Her expression seemed to say, Isn’t this the kind of conversation we can have at least?

When she was still Lee Hyein, she had never really had a proper relationship due to being buried in overtime work. No—truthfully, it wasn’t the work. That was just an excuse.

She found it difficult to grow close to someone. Maybe “afraid” was a more accurate word.

On the surface, she got along with everyone, but deep down, she had no one truly close.

There were a few people who had approached her with affection. Sometimes it was an upperclassman from school, other times a colleague from work. But when it came down to the decisive moment, she always backed away.

What was she so afraid of?

She already knew the answer. Deep inside her, there was both loneliness and fear. What if this person leaves me? What if I’m cast out from the place I thought I belonged?

If that happened, her entire world would shake.

To open your heart to someone required more courage than she had thought. The courage to bare even your most vulnerable self.

So in a way, this was her first real relationship. Even if she had skipped straight to being engaged.

So wasn’t it only natural to wish for someone kind and handsome?

As Hailey pouted again, Mastis lowered the hand from her forehead and called out to her.

“Miss Hailey.”

Her voice, though seemingly flat, carried waves of emotions underneath. Hailey quickly tried to explain herself.

“Just to clarify in case you misunderstood, Marty—I don’t judge people just by their looks. Personality is the most important thing. But if he’s handsome too…”

“Please take good care of the Duke.”

Mastis gave her a deep bow.

Hailey’s eyes widened in surprise. Alarmed, she stretched out her hands and shouted, “Marty!”

But Mastis maintained her utmost formality as she paid her respects.

“……”

Looking down at her back, Hailey smacked her lips bitterly.

Mastis cherished Tayton more than anyone. She felt sorry for him—this man mocked as a cursed Duke. Pitied him.

Like a thorn stuck in her fingertip—that was the sincerity in her heart.

Mastis knew the secret hidden beneath the Duke’s mask. Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to ask him to remove it.

What was the secret they had to protect, even if it meant carrying a heavy burden together?

One thing was certain: Hailey had no right to uncover that secret.

She was merely a fiancée in name. She wasn’t the woman he truly loved.

Looking at Mastis slowly straightening her back, Hailey deliberately spoke in a curt voice.

“I’m the one who should be asking for a favor. Please tell the Duke to take good care of me, Marty.”

At that moment, her lips seemed to curve slightly. Softly. Kindly.

Hailey couldn’t be certain.

Grinning faintly, she suddenly recalled something and said, “Oh, right.”

Mastis’s gaze turned to her.

“What’s the Duke’s middle name?”

Surely she could tell her that much? ‘I’m his fiancée. I have a right to know my fiancé’s full name’, Hailey thought, her expression taking on a mock-serious air.

But Mastis, as if she’d never intended to hide it, answered without hesitation. In fact, her expression even seemed a bit proud.

“Muriel.”

“…Muriel?”

Hailey repeated the name before she could stop herself. Not Martin, not Morgan—not even Maxwell—but Muriel?

Muriel.

That feminine name clashed terribly with the image of the Duke.

At last, she began to understand why he had gotten angry when she asked about his middle name.

“Muriel… Pfft.”

“Miss Hailey.”

She hurriedly covered her mouth, but couldn’t quite stifle the laughter. Mastis furrowed her brow and scolded her with a stern look.

“I’m sorry, Ma—pfft.”

“Miss Hailey!”

The unpleasant silver eyes behind the black mask. The grumpy personality. And a name as sweet as cotton candy—Muriel.

In the end, Hailey doubled over and burst into laughter. Mastis continued scolding her, but she couldn’t stop laughing no matter what.

“Ahahaha!”

At her loud burst of laughter, the maids passing by in the corridor gave her puzzled looks.

***

Jacob knocked on the door with a measured motion. He adjusted his necktie with both hands before opening the door.

He always felt tense when facing the Duke. Not because he was the cursed Duke.

The Duke had been accustomed to standing above others since birth. Giving orders came naturally to him. There was an unplaceable air of intimidation about him.

Not all nobles were like that. Of all the nobles Jacob had met, only a handful exuded such pressure. Among them, Duke Gunner stood out the most.

An aura that overwhelmed others.

And there was also a subtle sharpness to him. He was remarkably intelligent and sometimes caught Jacob off guard with piercing questions he hadn’t anticipated.

That’s why a capable secretary could never afford to relax. Jacob reminded himself of this once again as he stood beside the Duke’s desk.

“How’s public opinion?”

Tayton asked distractedly, flipping through some documents.

As if expecting the question, Jacob replied with a confident expression.

“It’s turned completely, as if flipping the palm of a hand. Newspapers that were blaming Your Grace for the broken engagement are now publishing article after article about Miss Hailey Salmon. There’s almost nothing to be found about Princess Irene anymore.”

Jacob paused briefly, taking a breath before continuing.

“The Aslan Times was the last one still covering the broken engagement, but even they printed interviews with people close to Miss Hailey Salmon this morning. I’m not sure who those insiders were, but it seems Miss Salmon’s bold decision to ask Your Grace for a dance caused a significant stir. It was an unprecedented incident, after all. Whether intentional or not, she certainly has the public’s attention.”

“Is that so.”

Tayton replied as though it were of little importance.

Watching him in silence, Jacob cautiously asked,

“Did you expect this outcome?”

Instead of answering, Tayton slowly turned his chair. His gaze drifted out the window.

Carriages rolled down the avenue, and noblewomen strolled with parasols. Gentlemen with canes walked by, and there were flower-selling girls and newsboys in the crowd.

Did he expect this situation?

Tayton asked himself.

A man who never acted without a calculated plan, who weighed every word and move—had he anticipated this outcome when he announced his engagement to Hailey Salmon?

Yes, he had foreseen it. But that was after his reason returned. Before that—he had simply been angry.

Angry at her—when she said she would return to Kent Hall.

Why?

He didn’t have the answer.

Jacob glanced at the black mask that revealed nothing of the Duke’s thoughts, then continued in a businesslike tone.

“Earl Blair’s trading ship has arrived. There were rumors it had been wrecked due to the delay, but it seems that wasn’t the case.”

“According to Marquis Eaton, the King plans to grant Earl Blair exclusive trade rights for tea and porcelain.”

“Yes, it appears to be a credible rumor. Yesterday, Earl Blair reportedly had a private audience with His Majesty. It seems important matters were discussed.”

“Aha.”

Tayton, deep in thought, let the corner of his lips curve into a faint smile. His face looked relieved, as if a long-unresolved puzzle had finally been solved. He tapped the armrest with his fingers.

“I was wondering what gave the King the nerve to approve the broken engagement.”

“Yes. It seems His Majesty chose to side with Earl Blair instead of Your Grace.”

Jacob responded smoothly, as any capable secretary would. Tayton narrowed his eyes as he looked down at the bustling street.

“For the past few years, Earl Blair has been expanding his trade empire under the King’s protection, rapidly amassing wealth. So that’s what it was. This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision. That cunning fox of a King decided the time had come.”

Jacob didn’t comment on Tayton’s insolent remark. Instead, he stared intently at the Duke’s desk, thinking quickly.

“If this broken engagement was deliberate, then it’s possible that Earl Blair’s eldest son, Raymond Blair, will be Princess Irene’s new fiancé.”

“Raymond, huh. Ha! That fool becoming the next king? That must mean Aislin’s fate ends here. Albert Blair would be a far better choice. They’re both insufferable, but at least Albert isn’t a complete idiot like Raymond.”

Jacob nodded in agreement. Raymond’s round, dull face came to mind.

“All he inherited from Earl Blair is his ruthless greed. He should’ve inherited some business sense or foresight, too—but there’s a reason they call him the Minus Touch. As the heir, he’ll inherit the estate and business in a few years, but everything he touches goes under. It must be driving Earl Blair mad.”

“No wonder Albert Blair turned out twisted.”

Jacob’s eyes widened slightly, surprised by the remark.

Albert, known for being upright and principled, was considered the model of noble virtue—like someone out of a textbook. In what way was he twisted?

More surprising than the content was the fact that such a remark came from Tayton Gunner—who was far from balanced himself.

Still, as a skilled aide, Jacob masked his reaction and smoothly moved on to the next report.