“Cl—clothes… I’ll pay for the clothes… hic.”

“Among academy peers, what’s there to compensate for—”

Vincent, still hiccuping, had barely managed to speak when Ian cut him off, the corner of his mouth curling into a crooked smile.

“Besides, this is a rather costly piece, so it might be difficult for the Valtous family’s means. How about we just let it go—next time, you can overlook one of my mistakes in return. Ah… well now.”

Smiling as he spoke, Ian lifted a glass over Vincent’s head. The clear glass tipped slowly, and the amber liquor left within spilled over Vincent’s hair and face in one steady pour.

“W-what in the—”

The strong liquor stung as it forced its way through every opening in his face, yet Vincent’s eyes flew wide open as if sobered on the spot. Ian inverted the glass completely, shaking out the last drop before offering a cheery apology.

“My mistake. Sorry about that.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“But Ian… you truly have no thought of marrying? Vincent’s tone was rude, yes, but you could at least tell us that much.”

Shortly after Vincent stormed out, the mood started to improve. As spirits lifted, one of the group, nursing his drink quietly, brought up the subject of Ian’s engagement again.

“…I’ve no intention of marrying.”

Ian hesitated briefly before replying irritably. He had considered brushing it aside as before and telling them it was none of their business. However, he suddenly found himself questioning why he should. After all, he had already decided that he wouldn’t marry — and he had told Aisha himself. Why hide it?

“Is that so?” But the Duke of Levantus wants you to marry his niece. You’ve been spending a lot of time with Lady Loretta recently, haven’t you? Maybe it’s not marriage itself that you’re objecting to, but marriage to Lady Aisha?”

At the mention of Aisha, Ian finally looked directly at the man addressing him. With long, slanted eyes, Albert only gave a slight shrug under Ian’s gaze before sweeping his eyes over the table and continuing.

“Let’s be honest among ourselves. We all know that in our circles, engagements rarely happen for romantic reasons the way they do for commoners. We think of benefit, of family standing—and partners can change along the way. Especially you, Ian, since your political stance aligns with the Duke’s…”

As he said, most here were betrothed—or married—through arrangements between families, and those without fiancées would likely follow the same path. Several nodded in agreement, prompting Albert to lean toward Ian with a voice pitched like he was sharing a secret.

“You and the Pardens have long ties, and your late father had an agreement with the Count of Parden. If you now announce you won’t marry Lady Aisha, there’d be criticism. So I can’t help wondering—are you simply letting the matter drag on until it falls apart naturally? I’d understand. In your place, anyone might…”

“Do you want to end up like Vincent? Keep out of my engagement—I find this conversation unpleasant.”

At the second mention of Aisha’s name, Ian cut him off sharply. Albert, seeing Ian’s focus sharpen like a drawn blade, raised both hands in mock surrender.

“Haha, don’t be angry. Honestly, I’ve no personal stake in your engagement. It’s just…”

Unlike Vincent, Albert kept himself just within the line. With a sly smile, he refilled Ian’s empty glass. Ian accepted it in a slouched posture, and after a quick glance at him, Albert licked his lips and went on.

“…Some of us here—myself included—and quite a few young men in society… well, we have some interest in Lady Aisha.”

“…”

“Not to be rude like Vincent was. I’m only saying—if you have no intention of marrying her, others might have a chance. Unlike you, with plenty of alternatives, we don’t have such an easy time finding a fine… ah, lady.”

The overly frank words put unease on a few faces around the table, though others bobbed their heads slightly in agreement. Aisha Parden—despite the rumors surrounding her—was the cherished youngest daughter of the Parden family, and with such beauty, she was an opportunity not to be missed.

“A chance?”

Had he been sober, Ian might have told them to do as they pleased. But with liquor warming his blood, he gave a short, scornful laugh and shook his head before he could stop himself.

“That will never happen.”

Is Aisha engaged to another man? Even if the world split in two, that would never happen. As Ian spoke, he recalled the sky-blue eyes that had stared straight at him. Foolish girl. A woman with eyes like that would never look elsewhere.

No — whether he got engaged to someone else or not, Aisha Parden would never be engaged to anyone but him. In fact, it was far more likely that she would become his mistress. Ian clung to this absurd belief as if it were a fact.

“Aisha, there’s only me. You should know that by now. Have you ever seen her with any man other than her brothers or me?”

At Ian’s arrogant remark, the group burst into laughter. For some reason, however, Albert neither laughed nor nodded along. He shook his head, meeting Ian’s gaze with a serious expression.

“Ian, you’re far too arrogant. Let me give you a bit of advice—no matter how exceptional you are, there isn’t a woman alive who could tolerate that attitude forever.”

Ian swallowed Albert’s earnest words alongside a mouthful of liquor. The idea that he would dare lecture him about Aisha was laughable. Yet there was something strange about it. As the alcohol slid down his throat, his mood soured sharply. He forced a mocking smile to hide it, repeatedly telling himself how ridiculous it all was.

“Judging by that look, you seem to think I’m wrong. Why don’t we make this interesting? How about a little bet?”

Albert didn’t seem the least bit ruffled by Ian’s derision. Instead, he smiled mildly and made the sudden suggestion. The unexpected words drew a slight furrow from Ian’s brow.

“A bet?”

“You’re so confident when it comes to Lady Aisha that I can’t help but wonder: does your arrogance actually have any basis?”

Ian tilted his chin slightly, signaling for him to go on. Albert’s eyes gleamed as he laid it out.

“Soon there’ll be a banquet at the imperial palace, and Lady Aisha is certain to attend. That night, you’re to receive from her both a confession of love and a kiss. Of course, until the banquet, you’re not allowed to approach her in any way. If you prime the ground beforehand, it makes the game far too dull.”

“…”

“If she confesses and kisses you first under those conditions, I’ll concede outright. I’ll admit that Ian Lloyd can win Lady Aisha Parden’s love no matter what stance he takes.”

On any other day, Ian would have dismissed such a foolish challenge without a second thought. But right now, he felt the sudden urge to wipe that mild smile off Albert’s face—to prove him wrong, to show that Aisha Parden would act exactly as he willed, no matter what. His competitive streak flared hot.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

“…Truly?”

Albert’s surprise was genuine when Ian agreed without hesitation. Ian scoffed and pressed for details.

“Name the stakes. If it’s something worthless, I’ll lose interest.”

“No need to worry about that. I’ll put up three years’ worth of harvest from my family’s vineyard near the Iota Monastery. You know it—small yield, but the grapes fetch a high price.”

It was a surprisingly valuable offer, worth at least a couple of months’ worth of tax revenue for such a small domain. As the stakes increased, the onlookers became more interested.

“Throwing money away, are you?”

“That remains to be seen. Now, what will you put up?”

Ian began to think of something equal in value, but stopped when he caught the look in Albert’s eyes. He clearly already had something in mind.

“Go on, tell me—you’ve got a particular item in mind.”

“If I win, you’ll give me your pocket watch. I noticed it earlier—it caught my eye.”

Albert’s taste wasn’t bad. The pocket watch Ian had brought today was small, but set with a dozen fine diamonds.

‘Come to think of it, this watch…’

At Albert’s words, Ian pulled it from his pocket and idly turned it over—only to frown. On the smooth back, at the very bottom, was a tiny engraving:

[Even if I’m not by your side, my time is with you. Aisha Parden.]

The moment he saw the engraving, Ian naturally recalled the day he’d received the watch. Two years into his time at the academy—not even his birthday—Aisha had sent it along with a letter, six full pages long.

‘It’s unnecessarily old. I ought to have a new one made.’

The forgotten memory soured his view of the well-worn watch. He had once admired the way it sat snugly in his hand, and the faint patina of age that gave it character. Now, however, it just looked hopelessly outdated. The bet was as good as won anyway, so he might as well give it away. Tilting his head slightly, Ian gave a slow, crooked nod.

“Fine. I’ll stake this worthless thing without a second thought.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“Master…”

“…Let’s go home.”

The Lloyd coachman, Joseph, reached out to steady his staggering master, but Ian waved him off. Swaying slightly, he climbed into the carriage alone and sank back against the seat. Only then did Joseph’s tense expression ease.

Clatter.

Joseph returned to the driver’s seat, flicked the reins, and the horses began to move at a slow, steady pace. Ian pressed his fingers to his temple; a faint scowl crossed his face as the motion of the carriage made his head pound.

The trouble had started when he had refused to turn down a drink. He didn’t get drunk easily, but he had drunk far too much tonight. Loosening his cravat, he closed his eyes, trying to ease the tightness in his chest that was suffocating him.

As he leaned back with his eyes shut, snippets of conversation from the drinking party drifted through his mind. A confession: Aisha. The wager. Then, suddenly remembering something, he reached into his pocket. The faint rustle of paper greeted him as his fingers closed around a small, neatly folded sheet.