Arman noticed something odd about Liane’s silence and the way she kept staring out the window without responding to him. He walked up behind her and followed her gaze outside.

He spotted silver hair poking out from the carriage and let out a curse under his breath.

“What the hell is that man doing here?!”

Arman threw the necklace he had been holding onto the box and stormed out of the sitting room, then suddenly stopped and turned back to look at Liane.

“Liane, you stay right here. I’ll go find out why Emilio showed up without warning.”

“……”

Without answering Arman, Liane watched Emilio step down from the carriage outside.

Emilio seemed to sense her gaze. He looked up toward the window where Liane stood.

The two of them held each other’s gaze for a brief moment before Emilio suddenly turned his head toward the door, likely because Arman had pushed open the front entrance and stepped outside.

Liane turned and walked out of the sitting room at nearly a run.

“My lady…! Where are you going!”

Lucille called after her in a hushed voice and broke into a run to follow.

“To see Lord Emilio. He must have come to see me.”

“My lady, what will you do if Lord Arman gets angry again!”

Lucille whispered urgently right beside Liane as she headed for the stairs, but Liane had already started down them.

“Well, well. What brings you here, Lord Emilio Hartfield? Visiting without any notice like this.”

“I did give notice. I sent several letters to Lady Liane Aspel, but received no reply.”

Arman felt the cold weight of Emilio’s gaze on him and forced a smile, wondering how a warm color like amber could feel so chilling in this man’s eyes.

“There must have been some kind of mix-up.”

“I came today to see Lady Aspel.”

“Liane hasn’t been feeling well lately. She’s been resting at home.”

“I’m aware.”

“Pardon?”

“I said I’m aware that Lady Liane Aspel was injured.”

Arman’s mouth fell open for a moment at Emilio’s words. He quickly pressed his lips together and worked to keep his expression from turning ugly.

Arman recalled the day he had spotted Emilio at the secret salon where private gambling took place.

He had been drinking for hours with some lower-ranking noble acquaintances while playing a card game. The odds had been in his favor that day and he was in good spirits, when the salon door suddenly swung open and Emilio walked in.

Arman spotted Emilio’s silver bob from across the room and sank deep into the back of the sofa so Emilio’s gaze wouldn’t reach him.

‘What is that man doing here? This isn’t the kind of place someone of his rank would come to…’

Emilio stopped a few tables ahead of where Arman sat further inside, said a few brief words to someone on the sofa, then gestured to the large-built men who had come in with him.

The large men hauled the seated man to his feet, and the man, with both arms pinned, kicked at the table and thrashed about.

The table tipped over with a clatter, and the sound of glasses and bottles crashing and shattering against the floor rang out. The struggling man soon had a cloth shoved over his mouth and couldn’t make a sound.

While the man was dragged outside by the large men, the salon owner and the staff acted as though they heard nothing, not once looking in that direction.

Emilio appeared to have no further business once the man was removed. He turned toward the door, but then suddenly swung his head in Arman’s direction, and Arman threw himself back against the sofa to hide.

He stayed hunched like that for a moment, then slowly peeked out. Emilio was already gone from the salon, and the staff were righting the overturned table and sweeping up the broken glass.

“What was that? What just happened?”

An acquaintance who had heard Arman muttering answered without looking up from his cards, as though it were nothing.

“The shadow of Hartfield. First time seeing it?”

“No… I’ve seen him before, but…”

Arman remembered the time Emilio had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and sent him stumbling, and he scowled as he reached for his cards, which he had slapped face-down on the table.

“On the surface, the Hartfield marquis family lists finance as their main source of income, but how much capital they move through underground moneylending is unknown. That business falls under Emilio, the second son of Marquis Hartfield.”

Arman’s acquaintance pulled the cigarette from his lips, held it between his fingers, and tapped off the gathered ash before continuing.

“There’s no shortage of dark rumors about what happens to those who borrowed from Hartfield’s loan sharks and couldn’t keep their end of the deal…”

The smoke that drifted out with his words filled the table scattered with cards, then slowly dispersed.

“Whenever trouble comes up, that’s when the shadow of Hartfield appears.”

The acquaintance carefully selected one card from his hand and laid it down.

“How is that allowed? What about the police? Why is everyone here pretending they didn’t just see that?”

The acquaintance let out a hearty laugh at Arman’s words, leaned back against the seat, and took another long drag from his cigarette. A smirk showed through the flicker of the burning tip.

“You really don’t know? Nobody touches the shadow of Hartfield. The police? They never show up anywhere Emilio is. Even if they happened to run into him by chance, they’d walk right past him like they’d seen a ghost. There are even rumors that the imperial family uses Hartfield’s funds… So just enjoy your small-stakes gambling for fun like you’re doing now, and never even think about using Hartfield’s loans.”

***

“I said I’m aware that Lady Liane Aspel was injured.”

Hearing Emilio’s words, Arman recalled their encounter at the salon and looked away.

“How did you…”

“That doesn’t seem to be the important matter here. Please show me in so I may speak with the lady.”

‘Even so, this man is a noble, and he shows up unannounced like this and expects to be let inside…’

Arman felt Emilio’s gaze bearing down on him, and the face of the man who had been dragged out of the salon flashed briefly through his mind and vanished.

“Imperial law is quite lenient when it comes to powerful noble families maintaining private forces and handling matters internally.”

The words of his acquaintance from the salon weighed on him now. The thought that this man could mobilize people and search the estate by force made Arman’s throat go dry, and he swallowed.

He was still trying to work out how to send Emilio away without incident when the front door, which had been slightly ajar, swung open a little wider and Liane’s face appeared in the gap.

“Lady Liane Aspel.”

Emilio recognized her and greeted her. Arman, who had no idea she had come outside, spun around in shock.

“Hello, Lord Emilio. It’s been a while.”

Liane stepped out with a smile, and Arman looked back and forth between her and Emilio in visible flustered surprise.

“I’m sorry for coming by so suddenly without notice.”

“Not at all, I have nothing particular on my schedule today.”

Liane, who had been smiling at Emilio, turned to Arman.

“Brother, I’ll take a short walk nearby with my guest.”

“Th… then I’ll come…”

Arman had been about to say he would join them, but Emilio shifted only his eyes to look at him, and Arman closed his mouth and looked away.

“Shall we, my lady?”

Liane placed her hand on Emilio’s arm and began to walk. Arman watched their retreating figures, his fists trembling, then shoved the front door open hard and went back inside.

The fact that this unsettling man kept appearing near Liane filled Arman with a deep unease.

Arman turned over what cards he could possibly hold against Emilio as he started walking quickly, looking for a window that would overlook the direction Liane had gone.

Emilio stopped in the shade of a tree at some distance from the estate. He took the hand resting on his arm and, with his gaze on the bandage wrapped around her wrist, spoke.

“Was this his doing?”

Liane gave a faint smile without answering.

She looked thinner than the last time they had met. Liane’s slender wrist slipped quietly out from Emilio’s hand.

Liane leaned her back against the large tree and looked down at her feet as she spoke.

“I’m sorry, Lord Emilio. You sent me letters and when no reply came, you came in person, didn’t you?”

“When no reply came at all, I had someone look into it.”

Emilio had already met with the doctor who had treated Lady Aspel’s injured arm.

The doctor had told him in detail that Liane’s wrist had been badly bruised with what appeared to be handprints.