She had thought it was a proposal that would pique his interest, and yet he rejected it without even hearing her out.

‘Was it too unreasonable after all?’

Or perhaps she had placed too much faith in him, relying too heavily on the memories from her past life.

She hadn’t been unprepared for this possibility, but facing it in person was more difficult than expected.

Just as Saronne was about to suppress her unease and try persuading him once more. He crinkled his eyes, still wearing a hint of a smile.

“If that’s your offer, then no.”

“…Pardon?”

“I’d prefer a different condition.”

Saronne blinked at the utterly unexpected turn of the conversation.

She hadn’t even finished laying out what she could offer him.

“I want something more. What you proposed doesn’t exactly tempt me, not when weighed against what I’d be risking.”

“Something more…”

As Saronne’s brows drew together slightly, he flashed a carefree grin.

“One favor. Later, you’ll owe me one thing I ask for. That sounds about right, don’t you think?”

“……”

A condition with no clear terms.

It was vague—unsettling, even.

‘Does that mean my request sounds that difficult to him?’

…It very well could.

Saronne was a woman burdened by scandal, and truthfully, if it weren’t for her current situation, she would’ve never imagined making such a proposal—especially to someone younger than herself.

‘But still… this condition is a bit much.’

What he was asking for, though it sounded juvenile, could be summed up simply: a “wish token” to be redeemed for anything he desired.

Naturally, it was an unreasonable condition for Saronne.

“Does it have to be that?”

“That’s the one I prefer.”

He clearly had more to say, but chose not to.

Saronne fell into a moment of thought.

No matter what connection they might have shared in a previous life, how could she agree to something like this without knowing what he would ask for?

‘…But if I don’t trust him, how can I make him my ally in the first place?’

She had come here to trust him.

Although Leobint Hethrian was technically part of a cadet branch, he was still royalty. Regardless of the risks involved, securing his support would be extremely beneficial to her.

“…Alright.”

“Really? You won’t regret it?”

He had been quietly waiting for her answer, but now a slow, pleased smile pulled at his lips.

Saronne met his gaze and answered in a firm, resolute voice.

“I won’t regret it.”

Even if regret did come later, how could it possibly be worse than a life where she stood still and was simply swept away?

In her past life, Saronne had lost everything—her child, her status, her very life—because she did nothing.

‘There’s no hell worse than that.’

As she met Leobint’s gaze with unwavering resolve, he smiled. His eyes crinkled into perfect crescents.

“Then the negotiation is settled.”

He reached for the teapot on the table and gently refilled her empty cup. Then, clearing his throat, he spoke again, his expression slightly tenser than before.

“Now that the talk is over… may I ask you something? Your condition… is it alright now?”

His tone was cautious, but there was a quiet weight to it, as if he truly wanted to hear the answer.

Saronne, surprised for a moment by the unexpected question, responded with a soft smile and a nod.

‘If he’s this concerned… maybe his condition isn’t such a bad deal after all.’

She still didn’t understand why he had gone to such lengths for her—both in her previous life and now.

But one thing was certain.

This was a chance she could not afford to waste.

***

“What about Lady Saronne?”

Leobint asked as he stared at the seat that had only recently held her warmth.

“She returned safely to her estate. Judging by how discreetly she moved, it seems she snuck out without anyone noticing.”

Came the report from one of his attendants.

Leobint gave a slow nod, his gaze shifting to the teacup she had left behind. His eyes turned cold.

Though she had spoken calmly, the humiliations she had suffered at the hands of the Duke of Lois played back in his mind—and a delayed anger burned through him.

‘So it’s come to that…’

With his expression hardening, Leobint recalled an incident from just two weeks prior.

***

“Leobint, you damn coward.”

Across from him sat his friend, Philip, muttering irritably as he bit down on a cigar.

The room was filled with the thick smoke of cigars and was lavishly decorated. The laughter of wealthy nobles echoed through the space as they played card games or hit billiard balls with lazy indifference. The remnants of an already decided card game lay on the table between them.

“It should have been enough that you’re good-looking. Why does the world insist on being so unfair?”

Having just lost all their bets, his companions slumped down in defeat, groaning mournfully.

Leobint merely smirked at their jeers and casually clinked his whiskey glass against a neighboring man’s empty one—its ice already melted. Beside it sat a tall, gold-colored bottle of rum, still half-full.

“Unfair, you say? Maybe if you stopped drowning in cheap liquor, your brains wouldn’t be mush—and I wouldn’t have won so easily.”

“Cheap? This is the good stuff, you bastard…”

“Ugh, I can smell it from here.”

Leobint replied with a playful grin. He took another sip of whisky, then put his glass down. Beads of condensation slid down the crystal surface, glistening faintly in the dim light.

Unfazed by their teasing, he leaned back with ease and casually swept his gaze across the room.

A group of women sitting nearby had been watching him — subtly, but unmistakably. When their eyes met, they offered him small, flirtatious smiles and slight nods of greeting.

But Leobint didn’t so much as flinch. Ignoring them came naturally to him.

“Congratulations! You’ve just become even more insufferable.”

“What now?”

“Ignoring the ladies’ greetings like that? Are none of them good enough for your lofty tastes?”

“They greeted me?”

He replied, feigning disinterest as he idly flicked through the cards in front of him.

“Didn’t notice.”

His voice was indifferent, bordering on bored.

“Must be nice, huh? Being so good-looking that you can afford to snub women. What a sad, cursed life you lead.”

“There’s a rumour that he confesses his love to his reflection in the mirror at home.”

“Ugh! The narcissism is unbelievable! And people still say he’s shallow? Who even spreads that nonsense?”

No matter the banter swirling around him, Leobint only raised an eyebrow slightly, his expression saying let them talk.

But the moment the Countess Violet, seated at the same table, brought up a certain topic—

“By any chance, Lord Hethrian, is there someone you’ve taken a particular liking to?”

Leobint, who had been playing idly with his cards and reaching for his glass, suddenly paused.

It was just a moment, but his reaction was sharp—and the others at the table didn’t miss it.

“No way. For real?”

“Don’t lie. As if there’s a woman in this world who’d actually catch Leobint’s eye.”

“Come on, spill it. Who is it?”

In an instant, all eyes were on him. Some looked on with curious anticipation, others with a knowing smirk that said of course not.

Leobint looked around at the circle of faces, then let out a quiet laugh.

He slowly lowered his gaze.

“There’s no such person.”

“Ah! I knew it!”

The drunken crowd erupted into laughter and hurled playful insults at him.

Leobint tugged the corner of his lips into a faint smile, but his gaze lingered on the scattered cards and his mood darkened suddenly.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the bottle of rum. Reaching out, he poured himself a drink from the same bottle his friend had been drinking from just minutes earlier.

“What’s this? I thought you said drinking that stuff would melt my brain.”

“Sometimes I crave the cheap stuff.”

Leobint replied with a lazy grin, raising his glass.

A few nearby noble ladies let out delighted gasps, clearly entranced.

His friends clicked their tongues and shook their heads in disbelief.

He tipped the glass back and drained it in one motion, then reached for the bottle again.

“Lord Hethrian.”

Someone approached his side. Recognizing one of his attendants, Leobint raised an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

The attendant leaned in and whispered discreetly into his ear.

“While keeping our usual watch around that person, I came across something… strange. I thought it urgent enough to report immediately.”

“What?”

The amusement drained from Leobint’s face at once.

He didn’t need to hear the full report to know—it wasn’t anything good.

He left the table and moved to a quieter spot.

“What’s going on? What do you mean, strange news?”

Leobint had been keeping occasional tabs on Saronne’s situation—not because he had the right, but because he still hadn’t let go.

It was… a mixture of a lingering wish that she was living well—and a persistent obsession that, should something bad happen to her, he needed to know. Even if he couldn’t do anything about it.

And now, they were telling him there was strange news?

“Duke Lois has gone on an extended trip… and there, it seems… he’s been meeting with a woman who was known to be his first love.”

“…What?”

“It appears Lady Saronne hasn’t been made aware of it yet, but… something felt off.”

The attendant added with a hesitant frown, then began to describe the situation in more detail.

Leobint listened in silence, saying nothing for a long while.

Eventually, he spoke, his voice low as he pieced the matter together.

“Duke Lois is… bringing another woman—his first love, no less—back to the estate?”

He gave a short, incredulous laugh.

But it quickly vanished, his expression hardening into something sharp and cold.

“Look into it. Thoroughly.”

Still tracing over the pieces of the past, Leobint narrowed his eyes.

‘So not only did he bring that woman in… but he committed something unthinkable on top of it?’

He dropped his gaze to an invitation held lightly between his fingers.

Saronne had handed it to him before leaving.

‘Revenge… huh.’

Seated on the sofa, Leobint slowly relaxed, letting his body sink against the backrest. Whether she knew or not, the condition he’d proposed earlier… had merely been for formality’s sake.

‘You probably don’t realize it, do you?’

He took a cigar out of his pocket and scoffed faintly. He didn’t light it. Instead, he held it between his fingers, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

‘Saronne…’

Saronne Dale. Saronne Lois.

The fact that she was living unhappily—was more than enough reason for him to act.