What kind of absurd question was that?

Ariadne froze exactly as she was, half-turned toward him.

‘Uncomfortable?’

Was he really asking that now?

She couldn’t even bring herself to turn her head. She simply blinked, feeling numb.

Fortunately, neither of them could see the other’s expression.

But still… how was she supposed to answer?

After a brief hesitation, she decided not to answer, but to ask a question instead.

“Why do you think that?”

“It seems like you’ve been avoiding me. Maybe I made you uncomfortable.”

But to Ariadne, those words carried far more weight than anything she had heard in a long time.

If he thought she had been avoiding him, it wasn’t a misunderstanding.

He truly felt that way. Yet the idea of avoiding him didn’t make sense to her at all. They hardly ever saw each other anyway. How could you avoid someone who was barely present in your daily life?

It wasn’t avoidance; it was simply the reality of their situation.

Their paths rarely crossed.

Just as he had once done, she filled her days with enough tasks to ensure their interactions stayed minimal. If he mistook that for avoidance, then perhaps there was nothing she could say to change his mind.

“You’re mistaken, Your Grace. We’ve both simply been busy, that’s all.”

If she were to be honest, that was the whole truth.

They were busy. So they seldom met.

Why he felt otherwise was a mystery to her, and the question itself seemed misplaced.

Without turning to face him, she inclined her head ever so slightly in a polite farewell gesture.

“I’m sorry if it upset you. But I truly wasn’t avoiding you, not even a little, so please don’t worry.”

She had no reason to avoid him. If anything, wouldn’t he avoid her?

Early in their marriage, he had refused every attempt she made to see him, giving excuse after excuse. He had acted as though she were someone he could not stand even speaking to.

So why—now of all times—was he asking such an unreasonable question?

Ariadne was ready to leave.

If he hadn’t asked something outrageous again, she would’ve gone straight back to her room and returned to bed.

“Then would it be acceptable if we had tea together every week? I’m thinking once a week or so.”

“…What? Suddenly?”

It was a question she had never imagined. Such was the absurdity of the suggestion that she reacted without thinking, her voice sharp and high-pitched, like that of a child being told to do their homework.

Realizing what she had done, she immediately tried to compose herself. She cleared her throat twice, steadying her voice.

“Why did you suddenly think of that?”

“Just… it seems there are too many people expecting pointless things.”

‘Pointless things?’

His words immediately reminded her of what had happened earlier that day.

She remembered his blunt insistence that one marriage in a lifetime was enough; his tone was full of dislike for anything bothersome. She also remembered the council members and the princess who had openly tried to drive her out.

Ah. Was it because of that?

As if reading her thoughts, Kieron spoke again, his voice full of displeasure.

“You saw it yourself earlier. The more distance we keep, the more people start forming expectations.”

“So… you mean you want to show them. That Your Grace has no such intentions.”

“…Something like that.”

Ha. Of course.

Seeing him nod in affirmation, Ariadne let out a silent, bitter laugh.

After all that—she still had expectations left?

How foolish. She wanted to slap the part of herself that fluttered for even a moment.

“Very well. Choose any time that suits you, Your Grace, and let me know.”

Perhaps that was why her answer had sounded so flat and dry, devoid of warmth.

Ariadne stamped on the last remnants of her lingering affection and scolded herself inwardly.

Foolish.

Utterly foolish.

Just moments before he arrived, she had been reflecting on herself. According to the Orpheo Sonnets, love was radiant and beautiful enough to be remembered with trembling joy.

But the feeling inside her now — or rather, the feeling she was slowly strangling to death — was sharp and aching, full of thorns.

Love should mean cherishing and understanding one another. But day after day, her love was rejected, until all she could do was protect her wounded heart.

And still, she had expectations.

It was painfully clear that she had only ever wanted to see the bright, lovely side of love. That was why she kept hoping and kept being disappointed.

She had chosen to love him, so she was responsible for her own feelings and expectations, not him. Perhaps that was why he had grown weary of her childish hopes.

Now, at the moment she had decided to let go, regret and self-reproach surged through her so fiercely that she felt faint, her thoughts spinning in a dizzy rush.

She should hurry back. Then bury herself under her blanket and sleep. Thinking that, she began walking again, this time determined to return no matter what.

“Very well. Sleep well and have pleasant dreams.”

But once again, he threw something at her heart.

‘’Pleasant dreams’

That gentle farewell—something she would expect only from family—coming from him?

He hadn’t given her so much as a glance for over two years. He didn’t care what she ate or when she slept or woke up.

Whether she was at home or out, ill or well, or how she spent her days, none of it mattered to him.

He ignored her so completely that she eventually crumbled beneath the silence, worn down by loneliness and exhaustion.

To him, she simply didn’t exist.

So why now?

Why, of all moments, was she allowing herself to be swayed by the slightest hint of affection — a meaningless ‘good night’?

Why did that tiny scrap of gentleness make her start imagining things again?

Was he finally looking at her?

Had his gaze only now, at the very moment she was preparing to let everything go, finally found its way to her?

He claimed it was all for appearances, but perhaps he suggested tea time because he wanted to talk to her.

Maybe he had been trying, if only a little.

Before she knew it, she had welcomed another foolish expectation.

Ariadne couldn’t move. She stood frozen to the spot, her fists clenched and her body trembling. She was unable to move.

Why?

Why now?

Why was he making her hope again?

She heard his footsteps slowly fading behind her. As always, he only left once he had said everything he wanted to say, a perfectly typical Kieron-esque farewell.

She knew that.

She knew exactly what kind of man he was. And yet, even so, she clung to that ridiculous, impossible hope all over again.

From just a few simple words, words he might have spoken carelessly, only to fill the silence, she found herself standing there, stunned.

For a long time, she stood rooted to the spot, as if nailed to the earth, all traces of the drowsiness she’d felt moments earlier completely wiped away.

***

“Since I’ll be having tea time with the duchess, keep at least one hour free each week.”

The next morning, that was the very first order Kieron gave Herald when he arrived for work.

Herald, who had been preparing to jot down the usual instructions, froze mid-motion.

‘’What did I just hear’

That was exactly the look on his face as he slowly raised his head to stare at his master.

Perhaps he had misheard?

But the impatient expression telling him to hurry and write it down, that was unmistakably Kieron Ambrose.

‘What on earth did he eat yesterday?’

Anyone who heard such an instruction would have wondered the same. Still, Herald dutifully wrote down the order in his notebook.

“If it’s once a week, Wednesday seems the most suitable. It’s your least busy day.”

“Fine. Wednesday afternoon, then.”

After scrambling through his momentarily paralyzed thoughts, Herald managed to propose a reasonable solution. And it seemed his master approved, because Kieron nodded.

Even so, the shock had not faded from Herald’s eyes. He quickly lowered his head and pretended to write more notes to hide his expression.

“Prepare tea she prefers. And if possible, set it outdoors.”

Herold had the strange feeling that he had received these instructions before. Pushing this irrelevant thought aside, he continued writing dutifully.

A regular tea time between the master and the duchess would certainly be a positive development. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but worry. His master barely knew what a proper tea time entailed and might make the same mistake as last time.

During their very first tea time together, Kieron who had spent most of his life defending the family on battlefields and had never experienced such peaceful rituals simply finished his cup of tea and walked out.

When he returned far sooner than expected, Herald asked why. And Kieron had replied: “It’s tea time, isn’t it? Once you finish the tea, you’re done. I even thought I’d spent quite a bit of time on it.”

He had returned after completely ruining tea time. Despite his inexperience, how could he have failed to grasp the most basic idea of what teatime was supposed to be?

That day, Herald and Derrick joined forces to give him a thorough telling-off, lamenting mostly how he had squandered such a precious opportunity in such a pathetic way.

They hadn’t even finished berating him before Kieron finally snapped in frustration. The more Herald thought about it, the more he mourned his master’s tragic lack of social sense.

Needless to say, the couple never had tea together again after that. So, had he improved at all?

Herald was just about to ask very carefully when…

“Um… Your Grace, how exactly do you think a tea time is supposed to—”

“Your Grace!”

The voice came all at once—urgent, breathless.

Derrick burst into the room without knocking, his face drained of color.

“What is it, Derrick? Barging in without knocking.”

There were only two situations that ever caused the usually unflappable Derrick to panic: the arrival of someone from the Emperor, and the arrival of someone from the Council.

Correction: There was now a third. Anything involving the duchess.

Herald had just witnessed something exceedingly rare: his master’s expression shifting in real time.

“Peyton’s young marquis and his siblings have arrived.”

Herald silently added one more item to his mental list and closed his notebook without a sound.