“Try dialing down your attitude a bit, will you? No wonder everyone keeps calling you a troublemaker.”

As soon as Daniel left, Aisha muttered under her breath, her expression sulky. Still, it wasn’t as if she was unaware of her cousin’s concern—her voice carried no hint of reproach or resentment.

Letting out a long sigh, Aisha sank back comfortably against the couch. A cool breeze drifted in from the terrace connected to the lounge, easing the stuffiness in the room just a little.

“It’s been six months since I last saw you. The least you could’ve done was send a reply. Mean Ian.”

Aisha muttered to herself as she gazed outside. She had told Daniel not to criticize, but she couldn’t help feeling hurt herself. Though she tried to rationalize that there could be a good reason, her heart felt stifled and heavy all the same.

‘…Maybe I shouldn’t have come. He looked like he didn’t want me here.’

But, as always, the feeling of hurt only lasted a moment. Aisha soon turned her frustration inward. Ian had made it clear he wasn’t happy to see her. The thought of being disliked by him frightened her more than anything. Without realizing it, she found herself blaming her own decision to attend today’s charity party.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit ridiculous to say that after already showing up?”

Just then, as Aisha let out another deep sigh, a cold voice sounded behind her. Startled, she turned around.

“Ian?”

The man leaning casually by the entrance was the very one Aisha had longed for, tormented by yearning for the past six months. She hadn’t even noticed when he came in. Nervous that he might have overheard everything she’d just said, Aisha avoided meeting his cool blue gaze.

“ Tsk. ”

Ian clicked his tongue as he watched her, then moved. With a single long stride, he closed the distance between them and, with one hand, gently tilted her chin up.

Those icy blue eyes, which had been watching from afar, were now right in front of her. Drawn in by an irresistible pull, Aisha slowly lifted her lashes. Her cheeks, already flushed, bloomed a delicate pink. Confirming it was really her, Ian broke into a deep smile, his voice sweet as honey.

“Aisha. Have you been well?”

As he spoke, the man smiled—a smile so angelic, it almost seemed unreal. Beneath a head of brilliantly colored hair, his finely sculpted features seemed to glow.

Watching the smile play at his lips, Aisha averted her eyes before finally meeting his gaze. Her sky-blue eyes—devoted as a puppy’s looking up at its master—sparkled with hope. Yet, in their depths, a trace of nervousness and anxiety lingered. Sensing this, Ian’s lips twisted faintly.

‘…She hasn’t changed at all.’

It was almost laughable—how she was at a loss, wary of his sudden kindness, yet still full of longing. Her hopeful breaths, her heated skin… he found it all foolish and endearing in equal measure.

But that, too, was what made it so much fun to toy with her in the palm of his hand. Smiling more deeply, Ian let go of Aisha’s chin.

“No reply? Isn’t this the first time we’ve seen each other in six months?”

His long fingers softly brushed Aisha’s cheek, giving it a light tap. Startled by the sudden gesture, she flinched. Yet she neither turned away nor tried to pull back—perhaps she didn’t dislike the familiar touch.

“…I’ve been well.”

She replied, her head dropping slightly as she spoke. Her long, light brown hair cascaded down like flowing water.

With a gentle hand, Ian tucked her hair behind her ear. The tip, blushing red, looked impossibly sweet.

He found himself idly tracing the curve of her ear. But his affectionate touch lasted only a moment. Suddenly, Ian’s face hardened as he noticed something, and he scanned her from head to toe.

Aisha was dressed in an expensive-looking sky-blue gown. The delicate lace on the sleeves and hem, and the pearls that adorned the edges, blended perfectly with the soft colours of the gown, making her look almost ethereal. The shoes peeking out from beneath the dress were shiny and sky-blue, embroidered with exquisite detail that could only be the work of a master craftsman.

The only flaw in her otherwise perfect appearance was the pair of pearl earrings dangling from her ears. Unlike the elegant pearls on the dress, these earrings were made from small, unimpressive pearls. Her loose hair mostly hid them, but anyone with a keen eye would notice the mismatch right away.

‘…She still has those?’

The pearl earrings were a gift Ian had given Aisha long ago. He’d bought them at a little accessory shop where cheap imitations were the norm. Though the pearls were genuine, they were nothing to boast about. At the time, Ian had just lost his parents, hadn’t yet inherited his title or fortune, and was living under the guardianship of Count Parden. He’d had almost no money to his name, and it had taken him ages to scrape together enough to buy even those simple earrings.

‘Why would she wear them now, of all times…? What an infuriating girl.’

He’d been happy when he gave them to her back then, but now the memory only irritated him. The fact that he’d saved every last coin just to give her that cheap little trinket, and that she still wore it as if it meant the world—he found it all pathetically shabby.

“Well, I think that’s enough pleasantries. Now, why are you here?”

Ian’s tone suddenly turned cold. At the abrupt change, tension flickered in Aisha’s eyes again.

“Ah!”

Caught off guard and hesitating, Aisha could only fumble for words. Ian pressed firmly against her earlobe where the pearl earring hung. The sharp, stinging pain made her shoulders tense, but even then, she didn’t protest or pull away.

“I asked why you’re here. I’m sure I told you not to come.”

As he spoke, Ian toyed with her earlobe, a subtle threat in the gesture. Worried he might hurt her again, Aisha quickly replied.

“I never got a reply telling me not to come. There must’ve been a mistake. I checked every day… but there was never a letter from you, Ian.”

Aisha had assumed Ian would refuse her invitation to partner with him and ask her not to attend.

‘He must have replied—I just never received it.’

Though the content of that imagined reply was disappointing, at least her anxiety—born from never hearing back—felt somewhat soothed. Of course he wouldn’t just ignore her letter. She’d have to tell the maids to search for it when she got home. What kind of paper had he used? What ink, what seal? If it came from Ian, Aisha would treasure anything.

“That would make sense. Since I never wrote you a letter in the first place.”

In an instant, all of Aisha’s hopeful anticipation shattered. She looked up at him, confused.

“Then what you just said…”

“Hah… This is exhausting.”

Ian looked at her as if she were hopeless, then sighed in frustration. He took a step back, crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. His ice-blue eyes were utterly devoid of warmth. Aisha’s sky-blue eyes trembled faintly.

“Do I have to spell everything out for you?”

“…”

‘Oh, come on… Not replying to your letter asking me to be your partner was my way of being considerate, and of telling you that I didn’t want you to come. If I’d told you not to come outright, you’d have been hurt.”

It was absurd. Deliberately ignoring a letter wasn’t considerate—it was simply rude. And claiming that not replying meant she shouldn’t come? There was no logic to any of it. Yet, even in the face of such nonsense, Aisha couldn’t muster any anger, nor could she bring herself to argue back.

“You’re not exactly clueless about what’s going on at this charity party… I can’t believe you couldn’t pick up on that much. Tsk.”

At Ian’s continued scolding, Aisha bowed her head, her eyes brimming with tears. Compared to Ian’s tall frame, her much smaller body shook helplessly.

The moment her face looked as if she might burst into tears, Ian’s expression twisted with annoyance. Why did she always look like that? No matter how calm she could appear in front of others, in front of him she always seemed on the verge of crying like a little child.

“Why the face? Did I do something wrong?”

That familiar expression only aggravated Ian further. He was tired of it, fed up, and just plain irritated. His voice grew sharp as he snapped at her.

“Don’t cry. I made my intentions clear—you just didn’t get it. So why are you making me out to be the bad guy?”

He sounded genuinely upset now. Sensing Ian’s anger, Aisha twisted away, shifting her weight and inching back from him. She was still well within his reach, but even that slight retreat made Ian’s annoyance falter. His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits—if she pulled away any farther, he looked as if he might bite.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to cry.”

She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve, oblivious to the change in his mood. The lace that had once felt soft against her wrist now scratched her face uncomfortably.

No matter how quickly she wiped, once her face was wet with tears, it wouldn’t return to normal so easily. Watching her turn away to dry her eyes, Ian stretched out his hand in irritation.

His hand, with its prominent veins, seized her slender wrist and pulled her towards him, showing no restraint. As her body jerked forward, Aisha’s tear-filled eyes widened in surprise. Without looking at her, Ian reached into his jacket pocket, took out a handkerchief, and dropped it into her trembling hand as though it were a favour.

“Wipe your face properly. If Daniel sees you like this, he’ll have something to say to me. Are you planning to keep crying?”

“Ah… It’s okay. I have a handkerchief too.”

Aisha stared blankly at the handkerchief, then shook her head. She’d brought her own—she didn’t want to get Ian’s handkerchief all wet with her tears. Besides, that handkerchief, embroidered with blue sage… For a moment, a flicker of joy returned to her clouded eyes.

Flustered, Aisha fumbled to pull out her own handkerchief from her sleeve pocket. But with one wrist still caught in Ian’s grip, it wasn’t easy. Watching her struggle, Ian’s face twisted in irritation as he barked at her.

“Stop arguing and just use it. I went to the trouble of handing it to you—don’t make it awkward.”