But Chloe only accepted her kindness.

It was because her father had already asked the Countess for a loan. So Chloe guessed that the reason her father had visited the Declen family not too long ago was probably because of that. Of course, she couldn’t completely erase the anxiety that remained in a corner of her heart.

Now that she was in the capital, news would soon reach Hanover. Perhaps it would be better to visit her father before he comes to the capital.

Chloe’s gaze, quietly putting down her teacup, turned to the window where the sunset was beginning to set. Unlike the new building, which was crowded with people, even those who came and went were rare in this direction.

Countess Declen recognized at a glance the worry that crossed her face as the red sunset fell.

It’s understandable.

Although Chloe was bravely paving her own way, her insides, which she had endured alone, must have been bruised.

The Countess checked the time, which was almost dinner time. It was a shame to part ways like this, so she wanted to have dinner together.

She beckoned to the maid who was waiting at a table far away. At the same time, she suggested to Chloe kindly,

“Miss Chloe, shall we move? Have dinner with me today.”

***

“So there’s no problem, right?”

Fabiana Dietrich frowned and double-checked. Patrick prostrated himself so as not to offend his aunt.

“Yes. The ones who had already attracted investors have completely left Hanover. The details I asked you to look into are no longer there. They have been professionally engaged in fraud, so it will be impossible for the police to find any decent leads.”

“Hmm.”

Despite Patrick’s assurance, Fabiana fanned herself nervously.

Dragging Viscount Hardin into the fraud case was something she had been preparing for months. It was because she had hoped that Viscount Hardin’s scandals would become Andert’s weakness.

However, Chloe’s father, who had broken up with Andert, was now a useless pawn.

What was the use of holding the leash of the Hardin family, who had nothing more to lose? All of this was originally an arrow aimed at Andert.

So, the fraud scheme she had prepared came to an end much faster than originally planned.

Still, it seemed like some people had sued the Viscount.

Fabiana emptied the glass she was holding. Apparently, the Hardin family had resolved the issue more easily than expected. Judging by the lack of any significant news, it was clear that the rumors hadn’t even had a chance to spread.

Then, Patrick, who had been cautiously observing her, spoke up.

“I’ve made inquiries with the Hanover Police Department, as you instructed. According to the officer in charge, there is a person who resolved Viscount Hardin’s case all at once.”

“Who on earth?”

Fabiana asked back in disbelief.

Who would help Viscount Hardin, whose own family had turned their backs on him? Could it be Chloe? But did Chloe have the means to do so? No, that couldn’t be it.

As Fabiana’s brow furrowed, Patrick lowered his voice.

“According to my findings, it was lawyer Daniel, who is practically Andert’s right-hand man.”

“What?”

“I’ve double-checked. It’s definitely him.”

At the mention of the familiar name, Fabiana stopped pacing. Daniel Hansen. He was a man who followed his master like a loyal dog, and Fabiana wondered how Andert had managed to win him over.

If that’s the case, then Viscount Hardin’s case must have been handled under Andert’s direction.

“But why?”

Fabiana’s sharp voice escaped through her teeth. Her velvet slippers, which had come to a stop, resumed their movement across the soft carpet.

Why would Andert help his ex-wife’s father?

Fabiana knew Andert’s true nature, even though he was her nephew in name only.

From a young age, his face had been impossible to read, his emotions always concealed. His cold eyes were utterly inappropriate for his age. Fabiana hated those eyes with a passion.

Whenever she looked into those blue, chilling eyes, she was reminded of Lake Daloa. And of that woman who had clung to the hem of her dress, oblivious to her own shame, until she was dragged beneath the water’s surface.

“I’ll look into it.”

Patrick offered, seemingly reading her mind, but Fabiana raised her hand to stop him. She might have favored Joker, but that didn’t mean she overestimated his abilities.

Especially in front of Andert, who was quick to notice things, Patrick had to be even more careful. If he poked around carelessly, he might end up caught in his own trap.

“Don’t get involved in this matter any further. Act like nothing happened. We can’t give that bastard Andert any leverage.”

“But……”

“No! Do as I say.”

Fabiana snapped at Patrick, who seemed to have something to say.

Andert was a cunning fox when it came to his own interests. And for him to have taken the initiative to resolve the Hardin family’s issue…

It bothered her. She had to be cautious from now on. Her dark, angry eyes darted towards the bedroom door, where her husband, who had summoned their son without her knowledge while she was away, resided.

Winston Dietrich. A name she was sick and tired of hearing. Just like King Philip, who had constantly used Andert as an excuse to threaten her.

The latter had already passed away, but the former was still alive. He had a surprisingly long life for someone who had been confined to his chambers for years due to his failing health.

Fabiana withdrew her gaze and slumped onto the sofa. Perhaps it was because she had stayed up all night with a fever, but every joint in her body ached.

“Patrick, you just have to focus on building relationships with the nobles I told you about. You understand what I mean?”

Patrick reluctantly agreed to Fabiana’s words.

“Yes, Aunt Fabiana.”

However, Patrick’s downcast eyes gleamed sharply. Even Fabiana didn’t trust him. He had to find his own way; he couldn’t just sit here and do nothing.

There were quite a few noble families who invited him because of Fabiana’s reputation, but that was all. It was all superficial conversations, and no one engaged in any meaningful discussions with him. He might have the Dietrich name attached to his own, but he wasn’t a direct descendant.

Moreover, after Andert inherited the title, the value of his own name faded even further.

Patrick drained his glass in one gulp. The pungent smell of alcohol lingered in his throat and spread throughout his body. 

***

30 Listrac 2nd Street, sculptor Tickelon, Royal Library, Hussler Cultural Foundation.

Andert silently repeated the scattered pieces of information. The seemingly meaningless string of words had one thing in common: Chloe. The address of the accommodation where she was staying and the reason she had come to the capital.

Above all, if it was until the sculpture was completed, it meant that Chloe would be staying here for the time being. But the name Hussler, which followed, bothered him.

And now he needed a good reason to see Chloe. If he went there without any particular reason, he might not even be able to have a proper conversation with her.

Moreover, there was no real connection between them. It would have been fortunate if there was even one person who could be considered a common acquaintance, but there was none.

Faced with this unfamiliar dilemma, Andert ran his hand through his hair.

He was used to meeting people with a purpose, but this was different. Because his desire to see Chloe was his sole objective and goal.

***

“I’ll be heading back now. Let’s go over the details of the exhibition next time.”

Tickelon, who had been engrossed in the conversation, got up from his seat.

Checking her watch, Chloe saw him off briefly. Tickelon, bidding her farewell with a “See you tomorrow,” promptly left the office.

The office provided by the Hussler Foundation for the exhibition preparations was excellent. Chloe, confirming that darkness had fallen outside, began to organize the documents.

Although she was in charge of Tickelon’s work, that wasn’t her only task. She was also responsible for other association matters in the capital, as well as planning articles for the monthly publication.

Chloe neatly stacked the document files and stepped out the door, feeling exhausted. The surroundings were quiet as the exhibition hall had closed.

She stopped walking as she passed the outer wall of the new building. Bright lights illuminated the wall, covered in picture frames.

Chloe fixed her gaze on the wall and took a few steps back. As she moved to a distance where she could take in the entire artwork, a long flight of stone steps came into view. It was a spot provided by the foundation for casual viewing. Chloe climbed three steps and tilted her head back.

The night air, as the daytime heat began to subside, was cool. Chloe gazed intently at the paintings she had only passed by before, unable to fully appreciate them.

What particularly caught her eye was a woman and a child walking along the beach.

It was an unfamiliar style, but the pastel-toned oil painting warmed her heart. Chloe couldn’t take her eyes off the painting, which reminded her of her mother. Her green eyes were drawn to the waves lapping at the child’s ankles.

“Chloe.”