Carlyle didn’t answer and kept his eyes forward while the car eased to a stop at the side of the road. He opened the door and stepped out, and Davis’s brow creased further.

“Carlyle! You’re really going……”

But his voice was cut off by the closing door.

Carlyle walked back toward where Iris Mora had been sitting, his pace as unhurried as always. His expression was the same. After a short walk, her narrow back and faded hair came into view.

Her laughter rang out high and clear. The man and child laughing behind her sounded equally at ease. The three of them, similar in their warmth, looked almost like a family.

Iris Mora as someone’s wife, the image that had refused to form.

One man’s second wife. One child’s mother. The best possible answer to all the conditions seemed to have been laid out right in front of him.

“Ha ha ha! Eden! The goose’s wings are too small! How is it supposed to fly?”

Iris Mora laughed again.

If she has a face like that, shouldn’t the person who paid for it be the one to see it?

Carlyle drew a cigarette from his br*ast pocket and put it between his lips.

Having taken advantage of what he offered, she owed him at least a basic standard of professional conduct. If something could be given freely to others, it should by rights be offered to him first. Giving the greatest return to the one who paid the highest price was fair dealing. His entire business had been built to its current scale on that principle.

That was precisely why he felt this irritation right now, Carlyle was certain of it.

Whatever was so amusing, Iris Mora didn’t notice another person standing directly behind her until he was right there.

It was only after he exhaled a breath of smoke that Iris turned her head toward Carlyle.

“D-President.”

The laughter that had been spilling freely from her voice moments ago vanished in an instant.

She turned the sketchbook on her lap face-down and set it on the ground with a haste that suggested she had seen something she shouldn’t have, and nearly lost her balance as she stood up.

“Miss Mora!”

Daniel, who had risen alongside her in the confusion, quickly caught her arm to steady her.

“Oh, thank you……”

Absurdly, Iris Mora simply accepted his help. She snarled at the slightest touch from the person who actually deserved her gratitude, yet this widower’s hand she took without a second thought.

So they haven’t made a contract, this one and her.

Carlyle’s eyebrow rose with something like amusement.

“You’re Mr. Berthheimer, aren’t you? It’s a tremendous honor to meet you, sir.”

While Iris stared at Carlyle’s shoes, unable to meet his eyes, it was Daniel who opened the conversation. His hand extended toward Carlyle.

“Your name?”

Carlyle didn’t take the hand. He pressed the dropped cigarette under the toe of his shoe and ground it out. Only then did Iris’s eyes, which had been fixed on his shoe, lift to his face.

“Oh, forgive me. Daniel Dupree.”

Daniel answered with mild embarrassment.

Carlyle raised the hand that had stubbed out the cigarette and shook it briefly. As he released it, his blue eyes moved to the child.

“And this is my son Eden. He turned nine this year.”

“H-hello…… Mr. B-Berthheimer……”

The boy who had been hiding behind Daniel Dupree’s legs produced a voice barely louder than an ant’s and gripped Iris’s hand tightly.

Two small hands clasped together, one slightly larger than the other. Carlyle studied the joined pair for a moment, then raised his gaze to Iris’s face.

“Eden is my student. I come to the campus to paint on Saturdays, and…… he sometimes keeps me company as my painting friend. Mr. Dupree…… lectures at Ashbourne University, so he knows the grounds well. He occasionally shows me spots with a nice view……”

The moment his gaze landed on her, Iris flinched and launched into an explanation nobody had asked for.

She couldn’t know how he had appeared out of nowhere, but there was one thing pricking at her conscience. She had shoved his expensive dress and jewels under the bed like that. Carlyle Berthheimer seemed like the kind of person who would have already found out. His expression was the same as always, yet the atmosphere around him felt subtly colder, which suggested it might be true.

“Are the two of you…… acquainted?”

Daniel had picked up on the strange current passing between Carlyle and Iris. The President’s sudden appearance clearly had a reason, and since it wasn’t Daniel, the answer had to be Iris. He turned to her.

“Ah…… we are, but……”

Iris couldn’t bring herself to answer easily.

If she said they were acquainted, what questions would follow. It had been the same at the party.

But even if she was his lover at that venue, here she was simply Iris Mora, wasn’t she? The contract said she would attend social events in the capacity of his lover.

Iris’s eyes found Carlyle’s and made a silent appeal.

“……”

The absurdity of the situation sat unpleasantly in Carlyle’s chest.

She wants me to say we’re nothing to each other? Beyond ridiculous. It was outrageous.

Naturally, he had no intention of accommodating her request. Iris Mora was the one who had broken professional conduct first.

His blue eyes moved slowly over the three of them, connected by those small paired hands.

Iris Mora. Eden Dupree.

And finally, Daniel Dupree. Plain brown hair, plain brown eyes, a pleasant face. He looked young to be the father of a nine-year-old.

A second wife, of all things. Either she had an unusually clear-eyed view of her own prospects, or she had no idea what she was worth, given that she had apparently set her sights on a young widower with a decent profession.

The fairy Carlyle Berthheimer had created was nowhere to be seen, replaced entirely by junior schoolteacher Iris, and that was equally grating.

He had the sudden, unpleasant sensation of being pulled into a sorry picture where these three were the main characters. Being cast as a tragic supporting role was not something he had any appetite for.

Why had he even come. That woman had an extraordinary talent for provoking him on impulse, just as she had before.

“I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy yourselves, Miss Mora.”

Carlyle turned and walked away.

Iris stared at his broad retreating back, her brow furrowed in puzzlement.

❖ ❖ ❖

Iris let out a long sigh, feeling as though her precious weekend had been thoroughly ruined. The people on the busy Monday morning street glanced at her as she trudged along.

Ever since seeing the President’s cold expression on Saturday, Iris had spent the entire weekend searching her room for any sign that someone had been inside. When she found nothing, a fresh guilt took hold for having suspected an innocent person. Even though she had already attended Sunday service, she had to go out again in the evening to make confession. The weekend had disappeared in that kind of chaos.

After walking in a daze for a while, the school gate finally came into view.

‘Do well today!’

Iris was squaring her shoulders when,

“Iris! Iris!”

Olivia came rushing up from behind, a rolled bundle of papers in her hand.

“Good morning, Miss Berni.”

“This is no time for pleasantries.”

The moment Olivia spotted Iris, she dragged her toward the quieter edge of the pavement.

“W-what’s going on?”

Iris’s voice was clearly flustered as she was pulled along.

“Look at this! This week’s Comus, just out today! Your name is in it!”

Olivia checked their surroundings, found a spot, and thr*st the magazine at Iris.

“……What?”

I’m in it?

Iris’s hands were urgent as she took it.

[Carlyle Berthheimer’s New Fairy Revealed.]

The article beneath that headline disclosed Iris’s name, background, and profession.

“Are you really involved with him like this, Iris? Didn’t you say it was for work?”

[It is unprecedented for Carlyle Berthheimer to see a lover this frequently.]

[This commoner lady, appearing like a comet, shone without rival at the social gathering, and proved herself possessed of the intelligence to put a young lady of a distinguished house firmly in her place.]

[That the President has fallen entirely for Iris Mora is self-evident. Look at the enchanted jewel at her throat! This necklace is the first gift the President has personally chosen for a lover, and……]

The article presented the emerald necklace as evidence of Carlyle’s feelings, complete with an illustration and product details.

Even with all this information laid out, Olivia’s tone suggested she still couldn’t quite believe it. To her mind, the two of them meeting for professional reasons seemed more plausible than meeting as a man and woman. Every woman Carlyle had been involved with up to now had been an entertainer or the daughter of a prominent capitalist. Not a drab schoolteacher in a white blouse and grey skirt, like the one standing in front of her.