At three o’clock on Friday afternoon, a tea set was prepared in the Duchess of Larson’s office. This was the time for the obligatory weekly conversation between the Duke and Duchess of Larson, which took place at this hour every week unless there was a special event.

“Thank you. You may go now.”

“Yes, my lady.”

The Duchess of Larson poured the first cup as she always did and dismissed the attending maid. She wouldn’t drink more than one cup anyway.

“The tea has a lovely aroma. Is it new?”

The Duke of Larson moistened his lips with the tea and asked casually.

“You must have a refined palate today. We had this same tea last time, but you seem to appreciate it more now.”

“I see. I must have been inattentive, my dear.”

Judging by her smiling yet sarcastic response to his perfunctory remark, something had clearly soured her mood. The Duke already suspected what had upset his wife, but saw no need to acknowledge it first.

“You must have heard the news.”

“What news?”

“About the small commotion a few days ago.”

“Richard informed me.”

The Duke of Larson made no effort to feign ignorance or deny it.

“May I ask what you plan to do about it?”

The Duchess asked without meeting his eyes, something she typically did when broaching uncomfortable topics. This was better than confronting him directly—maintaining appropriate distance would spare them both unnecessary fatigue.

“Don’t worry, my dear. What power could the words of a drug-addled pr*stitute possibly have?”

“Who knows? Times have changed.”

Eleanor von Larson set her teacup down with a sharp clatter.

“Even commoners read gossip papers these days. The Harrington scandal grew precisely because they failed to contain it.”

“What are you trying to say, my dear?”

The Duke of Larson, wearing a somewhat deliberate smile, pulled out his pocket watch to check the time.

“You seem to have quite a lot to say. I hope your business can be concluded on schedule. The coachman has been instructed to prepare my horse.”

He lifted the corners of his mouth toward his wife once more, clearly indicating that she should get to the point and finish quickly because he was busy.

“Handle your own mistakes.”

“What, should I take care of that pr*stitute woman?”

“No, you’re wrong. Even if you dealt with her, what guarantee is there that other relatives won’t appear?”

The Duchess raised her gaze to look him directly in the eyes.

“When I married you, I made just one request. That no matter what happened, you would protect my honor and pride.”

“What would you have me do?”

“Remove the source of the problem.”

“Speak plainly, my dear. I have no talent for guesswork or interpretation.”

No, it wasn’t a lack of talent—it was lack of affection. He simply didn’t want to expend the effort required for guessing or interpreting. Well, it didn’t matter. The Duchess herself felt the same way.

“That boy, Kian. I want him removed from my sight.”

The Duke of Larson chuckled at her uncharacteristically direct language.

“Ah, so his name is Kian?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Should I send him away?”

His tone suggested he was discussing someone else’s problem, with complete disinterest. This was precisely why he had ignored that impurity until now. His casual attitude made her blood boil.

The Duchess of Larson clenched her fist tightly.

“Stop pretending not to understand. It’s detestable and childish.”

“You clearly told me not to speak indirectly. I have neither talent nor interest in deciphering such things.”

“I was thinking of rescuing a child from an orphanage this time. Is that direct enough for you?”

“What?”

Their gazes clashed sharply.

“Or perhaps you could take the boy on a sea voyage. Since his sudden disappearance from the mansion would surely cause talk, it would be better somewhere accidents can happen.”

“You’re truly mad. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Yes, I am mad.”

As the Duke of Larson gathered his jacket to leave, she raised her eyes.

“Since you drove me to madness, you should clean up your own mess. Am I asking for too much?”

“…”

“You shouldn’t treat me this way. From what I understand, you still need my family’s help with the railway concession issue.”

“…Darling.”

It was merely a habit. The word this supposedly flawless man uttered when at a disadvantage.

Not because he was truly flawless, but because he was shameless enough not to consider most things his own fault.

“I want to help you, but I need to maintain some dignity before my father. Our loveless marriage is the same for both of us. Still, I am your wife and the mistress of Larson. Would it satisfy you to have me portrayed in gossip papers as a foolish woman who harbors the bloodline of a back-alley pr*stitute and gets extorted for money?”

“Eleanor. Please calm down.”

“Then make it possible for me to calm down. I hear that boy goes around claiming to be a Larson himself. Did you know? Eventually, he’ll actively tarnish our family name. Are you going to just stand by and watch?”

Having unleashed her tirade, Eleanor von Larson exhaled a long sigh and drained her remaining tea.

“I don’t care about anything else, but I sincerely hope you’ll keep the promise you made when we married.”

* * *

While helping with odd jobs in the outdoor garden, Kian unexpectedly encountered a notable figure—the master of this mansion, the Duke of Larson.

“M-master! What brings you here…”

The gardener, who had been absorbed in trimming the garden plants, spotted his master and bowed his head in flustered panic.

“I was passing by and noticed how beautiful the garden is.”

“It’s my job, sir. Your praise leaves me overwhelmed with gratitude.”

“Keep up the good work, James.”

The Duke of Larson patted his shoulder encouragingly.

Golden blonde hair and a tall, well-built figure. A man radiating innate nobility and brilliance. The Duke of Larson resembled Joshua von Larson, not Kian, to an uncanny degree.

Yet this was a first—seeing his father this close.

“Are you Kian?”

“…”

“Hmm?”

When Kian simply stared in a daze, the gardener began poking him in the side.

“What are you doing, boy? Hurry up and greet the master.”

Right. Not father, but master.

Kian decided to put aside his foolish thoughts.

He bowed as deeply as he could to the Duke, “H-hello, Master. I’m Kian.”

“Yes. Nice to meet you.”

The Duke smiled warmly and looked him up and down. Kian had thrown on comfortable clothes for the hard work ahead and now felt somewhat embarrassed by his appearance.

“Kian.”

“Yes, Master.”

“This bag is rather heavy. Would you mind carrying it to the main building for me?”

Kian’s eyes widened in surprise.

* * *

He was so nervous that he couldn’t lift his head. Kian followed the Duke of Larson at a slight distance.

This was his first conversation with his biological father. Moreover, he was heading to the main building—a place he had never been to and never thought he could enter. His heart felt ready to burst.

“You’ve grown up well.”

The Duke of Larson was the first to break the awkward silence.

“Th-thank you.”

“Looking at your face, I can see you strongly resemble your mother.”

The Duke suddenly brought up his birth mother. Having been raised by Matilda since he was very young, Kian didn’t know what his mother looked like.

“Does anyone at the mansion bully you?”

The Duke of Larson somehow asked the exact same question Joshua von Larson had asked. They not only looked alike but thought similarly too. Kian swallowed hard and shook his head.

“That’s good.”

When their brief conversation ended, they reached the entrance to the main building. Richard, who had been waiting to greet them, took the bag from Kian’s hands.

“Welcome back, Master.”

“Thank you. I’m tired, so please prepare my bath.”

“I’ll arrange it right away.”

“Ah, and Richard.”

The Duke of Larson quickly called Richard back, seemingly having forgotten something.

“Tell the chef to prepare some snacks.”

“Shall I bring champagne as well? Or would you prefer tea?”

“No, not for me.”

The Duke smiled kindly at Kian.

“For Kian. He worked hard carrying my bag.”

This unexpected consideration filled Kian’s heart to bursting. His cheeks flushed deeply.

“Do you like cookies?”

A large hand gently stroked his head. Though Kian knew the kindness was being bestowed like charity, he still felt happy and excited. It was the first attention he had ever received from his blood relative.

Not knowing what purpose it might serve.