“When I become duchess, the first thing I will abolish is this charity for beggars. Those people are… filthy.”

The malice in her words pierced straight into Sveta’s chest.

She had meant to endure it.

But the moment she heard the word filthy, her face turned ice-cold.

“Can you truly do that?”

“What? Are you implying that I am lying?”

Alyona’s expression slowly twisted.

The pale blue eyes fixed upon her did not waver in the slightest.

‘What is this?’

Had she really gone to the extent of sending a maid to summon her, just to publicly humiliate her?

In a way, it was almost impressive.

Sveta had planned to ignore it. She had no interest in the petty games of high society.

However, Alyona’s next words made her eyes widen in shock.

“I did not realize a duchess could do such a thing.”

A chill settled over the gathering.

For a moment, it seemed as though the other ladies’ quiet laughter was directed at Alyona rather than Sveta.

Alyona pressed her lips tightly together.

Her position within Renan’s social circle was already becoming precarious. The duke had brazenly brought his mistress to their engagement ceremony.

She had chosen to humiliate the mistress in order to reassert the proper hierarchy within Strilland’s domain.

And yet—

‘I never expected her to be without shame.’

This humble mistress knew no shame.

Even when she was dressed in clothing that set her apart, she did not blush. She did not deny that she had once lived among beggars.

This was not the scene Alyona had envisioned.

Yes. On reflection, she realized that she had overlooked one crucial fact: the duke’s mistress was far brazen than she had expected.

‘So she is this crude… Very well. I shall deal with her at her level.’

Alyona glanced over her shoulder. All the young ladies were watching her.

Turning back to Sveta, she spoke sweetly.

“A duchess can do far more than that. She may replace servants at will, for instance. Or decide how guests residing at the ducal estate are treated.”

We can begin with the maid you cherish—and your adoptive mother rests in my hands.

The message was unmistakable.

Sveta’s pale face hardened.

‘You should not have spoken back.’

Alyona’s lips twisted.

The distant sound of waves beat softly against the silence stretching between them.

Only then did Bella Grayton, the blonde young lady, step forward.

“Shall we proceed to the next location?”

Everyone nodded. Alyona signaled to her maid, Sophie.

Sophie seized Sveta’s arm.

“We decided to board the ship and take tea. Come along.”

Perhaps because others were watching, Sophie’s tone was outwardly polite.

Sveta glanced toward where the vessel was docked.

Beyond it, the sea stretched wide—and in her vision, it seemed to gape open, spitting savage waves.

She lowered her head at once.

‘I… am fine.’

She forced herself to breathe slowly.

But her racing heartbeat mocked her efforts. It felt as though the ground was about to give way beneath her feet.

Alyona’s eyes curved with delight.

She had found a weakness.

As expected, she grasped her other arm.

“Do not refuse. Surely you would not disregard all of our goodwill?”

“No. I do not wish to go.”

“Are you unwell? I hear you rose late this afternoon. You must be faint with hunger. All the more reason to eat something. Come now.”

Alyona tightened her grip, her words a cleverly woven mix of concern and reproach.

Where did she find such strength?

Sveta stumbled as she was dragged forward. She tried to resist, but it was useless.

The rounded stone beneath her feet gave way to dark wooden planks.

The moment she realized they had reached the pier, her entire body began to tremble uncontrollably.

“Wait. Please wait…”

She muttered something unintelligible and tried to step back, but the blonde woman behind her shoved her hard in the lower back.

At the same time, the arms holding her were released.

Sveta fell heavily onto the deck.

“Oh my, Lady Grayton. That was rather forceful.”

“Was it?”

Their laughter pierced her like arrows.

Lowering her gaze, Sveta tried to get up.

Suddenly, the laughter stopped.

A large hand reached out from behind her, cutting off her view.

In one swift motion, she was spun around, her face pressed against a solid shoulder.

The instant she realized it was Aiden holding her, he spoke in a deep, commanding voice above her head.

“What are you doing here?”

A brief silence followed before Alyona answered.

“We thought to take tea together.”

“I was not asking you.”

Whispers stirred again.

“Sveta.”

“…Your fiancée summoned me.”

Perhaps sensing Alyona’s signal, the sound of hurried footsteps could be heard as the young ladies hurriedly boarded the ship. In an instant, all was quiet around them.

“Do you have something to say?”

“……”

“Lady Matwood. This time, I am addressing you.”

“…Yes?”

“Offer an explanation.”

“L-Let’s… move somewhere quiet first.”

Unable to look up, Sveta leaned into Aiden as he put his arm around her shoulders and led her back towards the plaza.

It was only when they stepped beneath the canopy’s shade that she slowly raised her trembling eyelids. Her dark lashes quivered, delicate as the wings of a black butterfly.

At the sight, Aiden felt a burning tightness in his throat.

If he had not stepped out to inspect the grounds, if he had not found her in time…

The mere thought was unbearable.

‘At this rate, how could I leave this woman alone for even a moment?’

Exhaling sharply, Aiden asked coldly.

“Why did you summon Sveta?”

“Your Grace’s mistress seems to have quite a loose tongue.”

Alyona bit down on her lip. A smear of vivid red lip color marked the edge of her teeth, and Aiden regarded it with a faint frown.

“I asked why you called her.”

“As someone of higher standing, I merely intended to establish proper hierarchy.”

“It would be wise not to belittle my woman. For your sake—and for your father’s.”

With that, Aiden turned, leading Sveta away.

“I—I belittle everyone, Your Grace.”

He stopped abruptly.

Releasing a disbelieving breath, Aiden looked down at Alyona with icy eyes.

“Are you unaware? That is simply how I am.”

“And?”

“And yet I invited your mistress to a social gathering in an effort to get along. I am trying, in my own way.”

“You would have been better off not trying. Such effort is worthless.”

“You would have been better off preserving my dignity as well. That would have been the wiser path for Strilland.”

Should he even dignify such nonsense with a response?

There was no need.

Aiden ignored her.

“……”

“You must not become a foolish man who empowers a mistress. Frankly, it is laughable.”

Yes.

That part was, indeed, laughable.

Aiden’s lips tilted in a crooked smile.

“It seems quite clear who is laughable here.”

“…Pardon?”

“If you fail to recognize your place, you will only make yourself more ridiculous.”

“……”

Alyona’s face slowly turned red.

Aiden’s gaze shifted past her trembling shoulders. He took in the faces of the young ladies on the ship, one by one.

Finally, he glanced at Alyona’s twisted expression once more and turned away with Sveta.

***

The next day, in the ducal office:

Henrik Meriner sat rigid with tension, casting furtive glances at Aiden Strilland, who was sitting across the desk from him.

Aiden Strilland.

There was no mistaking it — the towering man did not look upon him favorably.

His swamp-dark green gaze seemed to scrape mercilessly at Henrik’s insides.

Henrik swallowed dryly.

The duke drank his white wine with effortless composure. Since he showed no intention of speaking first, Henrik decided to come straight to the point.

“Our Queen Leparda wants Jace Gould.”

“……”

“To be precise, Her Majesty said she would like to ‘tear the head off that damned bastard.’”

The duke, well accustomed to the queen’s fiery language, did not appear surprised.

“That presents a difficulty.”

“She added that she is willing to offer anything in return.”

The duke’s red lips remained closed. Seemingly unmoved, he simply raised his glass and took another sip.

It was clear that the duke intended to crush him with his silence.

Determined not to be overwhelmed by the oppressive atmosphere, Henrik raised his glass and took a sip.

As the wine warmed his throat, a thought he had deliberately pushed to the back of his mind suddenly resurfaced: Sveta Luce.

For a moment, he had thought that the duke’s mistress resembled Queen Leparda.

‘No, no. That cannot be. That gentle woman who resembles our sharp-tongued, temperamental queen? Have I had too much to drink already?’

The memory of Queen Leparda’s husky, forceful manner dispelled the idea at once.

Blue eyes. Black hair.

That alone was hardly enough to claim a resemblance. Their features were distinctly different.

‘And yet… I am certain I have seen a portrait of someone similar…’

He recalled a painting in the library of Baiton Castle—a woman who bore a striking likeness.

He resolved to search for it upon his return and forced the thought aside.

“There is no need to decide immediately, Your Grace. You may consider it at your leisure and inform us whenever you wish.”

“……”

As expected, no answer came.

***

On his way back to the carriage, Henrik paused.

He turned towards the rear garden.

He had encountered Sveta Luce three times already.

Admittedly, though, two of those encounters had been staged.

Hoping for a similar ‘accident’ today, he entered the garden.

And there she was — the very woman he wished to see.

She was standing at the edge of a damaged flowerbed.

“What a shame… This bed must once have been filled with rare flowers imported from Muwieo. How did it fall into such disrepair?”

“…Viscount Meriner?”

“We meet again.”

Sveta looked up at him with widened eyes. The warmth in her expression was unmistakable.

Her raised brows were lovely—delicate, as though each strand had been painted by the thinnest brush.

‘The brows… are somewhat similar, perhaps?’

Once the thought had taken root, it refused to fade.

Henrik began, once more, to compare Queen Leparda and Sveta piece by piece in his mind.