The day after the true cause of Ariadne’s collapse was uncovered, the Marquis of Peyton quietly summoned Kieron.

Kieron, who had chosen to stay at the marquessate rather than return home until Ariadne regained consciousness, accepted the marquess’s invitation.

They met in the reception room adjoining the Marquis’s office. Although it was only an annex, it was spacious and well-appointed, ample for Kieron to gauge the Peyton family’s considerable power.

The Marquis opened the conversation by revisiting the trade proposal that Kieron had brought up earlier, continuing with the calm, practiced ease of someone well accustomed to political dialogue.

As Kieron’s purpose in visiting — and in meeting Ariadne in the first place — had been to seek the Marquis’s support for that very venture, the discussion unfolded smoothly.

They spoke of the current state of the continent, trade levels in each nation, economic growth trends and the size of their militaries. As the empire’s foreign minister, Marquis Peyton possessed an impressive and intimidating breadth of knowledge. His insights spanned far and wide, and through them, Kieron identified several additional countries that might strengthen his own trade enterprise.

Their discussion went on for quite a while.

Despite everything going smoothly, an indefinable tension had begun to settle over the reception room.

Was he taking up too much of the Marquis’s time?

Or was the Marquis waiting for an opportunity to change the subject?

As Kieron considered this, the Marquis finally spoke.

“You are an exceptional man, Lord Kieron. It would be wise for you to find a suitable match soon.”

Kieron barely managed to hold back a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

Ah. So this was where the conversation had been heading all along.

“I still have much to improve. It feels careless to ask someone to stake their life on me before I’m ready.”

“If the partner in question were Your Grace, anyone would gladly open their heart.”

Marquis Peyton continued, seemingly unaware that Kieron Ambrose was well aware of his daughter’s feelings.

“Even my daughter would be pleased if it were you. She’s always been reserved, so finding a suitable match for her has required great care. But someone as admirable and gentle as you, Your Grace, is someone I could entrust her to without hesitation.”

At these words, a memory surfaced in Kieron’s mind.

It was the first time he had visited this estate.

He remembered the way she had smiled while watching the sun set, and how that same gentle figure now overlapped with the image of her lying there, drenched in cold sweat.

He shook his head politely.

“I heard the rumors about your precious daughter even on the battlefield. They say you dote on her so much you practically carry her around the estate.”

“Yes. That is why I intend to let her marry only the person she truly wants.”

Although it was only a passing comment, the Marquis was speaking seriously.

The faint smile on his lips disappeared completely, and Kieron suddenly understood. This was the true reason for their conversation.

“Whatever assistance Your Grace requires, I will not spare it. If needed, I can even share with you the routes I know personally, or the confidential methods neighboring states have shared with me.”

The marquis met his eyes directly, every hint of humor gone.

“I will exert every effort to ensure your proposed trade with Kenita becomes a success.”

Although he spoke gently and unhurriedly, his words carried an inexplicable weight.

The Marquis’s soft yet unwavering gaze pierced straight through him, as if to emphasize that the matter must be brought to fruition.

“Money, honor, power — there is nothing I lack. Even the troublesome issue with the Council of Elders… I can ensure it is resolved swiftly.”

He was regarded as the most outstanding foreign minister in imperial history.

When he spoke with conviction, his voice carried undeniable weight.

“If you desire it, Your Grace, there is nothing I possess that you cannot have.”

But none of this mattered unless Kieron accepted the proposal.

Ariadne had collapsed, yes, but merely seeing him had hastened her recovery, and he had been informed that her condition was now stable.

Nevertheless, the Marquis was pressing for marriage.

“I don’t understand why you’re taking things this far. I’ve only met your daughter once, and I’ve been told she’s already recovered.”

Everything had been resolved.

So why insist on marriage?

Kieron leaned back against the sofa. Although he was under no obligation to accept this offer, he couldn’t allow himself to lower his guard.

His opponent was a seasoned diplomat: calm, perceptive, and skilled at securing whatever he set his sights on. But the man sitting before Kieron right now—

“…My daughter says she cares for you, Your Grace.”

—was not the empire’s diplomatic genius, but simply a father who could no longer bear watching his child suffer.

A hollow laugh escaped him. He was considered the second most powerful man after the emperor. If he was determined to force this marriage through by any means, the emperor himself was the only person capable of stopping him.

Kieron knew that if the emperor had to choose between him and the Marquis of Peyton, his trusted right-hand man, he would side with the Marquis.

It was unpleasant, but with his title still unstable, he had never had the opportunity to refuse.

Acting on a reckless impulse, Kieron flashed a diplomatic smile.

“What if I refuse?”

“Then none of the things Your Grace needs will be granted, nothing more precious than my daughter.”

As expected.

Without hesitating for a moment, Marquis Peyton declared that he would block Kieron’s path entirely if he refused.

If Kieron turned him down, he would gain nothing.

Even though he had anticipated this outcome, the bitterness wouldn’t fade.

On the other hand, granting this marriage would give him everything he needed. Yet Kieron still felt as if he were wagering his entire life in exchange.

“Then in this unfair bargain, the only thing the marquis wants is for me to marry your daughter?”

The Marquis slowly closed and opened his eyes again. The energy he had displayed earlier had disappeared; he now looked tired.

“I had intended to let go of any selfish desires born of fatherhood, but since the subject has come up, I would like to ask just one more thing.”

“Your honesty is refreshing. I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you.”

A wry smile slipped from both of them.

“So, what is it that you want?”

“What I want is…”

That evening, Kieron Ambrose sent a proposal letter to Ariadne Peyton.

***

“Do you know what the marquis asked of me back then?”

Kieron asked with a bitter smile.

Derrick had assumed there must have been some negotiation between the marquis and Kieron for a marriage to be arranged, but he had never imagined anything like this.

He’d heard rumors about the marquis’s fierce love for his daughter, yet nothing had prepared him for the sheer extent of it.

What the marquis had done was, in truth, little different from issuing a one-sided demand.

Watching his master remember that moment, wearing the expression of a soldier who had already accepted defeat, Derrick found himself at a loss for words.

Even so—despite Derrick’s hesitation—Kieron showed no sign of stopping.

“What he asked was simple, yet it made me feel like I was being sold.”

He lifted his glass, drank the water in one motion, and exhaled as though releasing a sigh.

“The marquis asked me not to lay a hand on his daughter unless my heart truly opened to her.”

“…Your Grace. You mean…?”

The moment he heard the news, Derrick felt his body freeze.

The main complaint of the Council of Elders was that almost three years had passed since the marriage, yet the ducal couple still had no heir.

But had the Marquis of Peyton encouraged that?

“If there’s no trace of intimacy, the marriage itself doesn’t hold.”

“…Your Grace!”

“The marquis was worried about what would happen after the scales of love fell from his daughter’s eyes.”

Ultimately, Kieron Ambrose was treated as nothing more than a disposable pawn.

The Marquis had planned a future in which, once Ariadne’s feelings inevitably faded, she could discard him without any burden, danger or consequence.

He had proposed on that basis.

Derrick was horrified.

There was no room for any other emotion.

How dare he treat the head of House Ambrose this way?

How dare he use his master? How could he reduce him to a prop for a young girl’s fleeting infatuation?

Yes, Kieron had gained much in return. But who was meant to heal the wounds left behind after all the rewards had been given?

Derrick was left speechless, consumed by anger and pity for Kieron, as well as a bitter sense of betrayal towards Ariadne, whom he had foolishly pitied until now.

He was so overwhelmed by his inner turmoil that he didn’t even notice the four people behind them rising from their seats.

“Anyway, that’s all there is to the story. So remember this—there’s no way the marquis would change his stance over something as small as his daughter.”

He might even do worse than that.

With those final words, Kieron rose quietly.

He had planned to follow the others, who were already going downstairs, but he couldn’t stand up just yet.

He needed a moment to steady himself.

If that was truly the case, it explained why his master had harbored such resentment towards the madam.

Once Ariadne’s affection had faded, he was nothing more than a hostage waiting to be discarded.

His master, who feared abandonment more than anything, must have been tormented by those words.

Every time Derrick, Herald, and even the servants who hadn’t dared to speak out pressured him to treat the madam kindly, it must have been t*rture.

Only now did Derrick finally grasp the position his master had been trapped in.

Realizing it only now—

—he wished he could kill himself for it.

“Derrick. Get up.”

Derrick couldn’t move until his master called him.

Only when he heard Kieron’s voice a second time did he finally rise to his feet and follow him.

He had sworn time and time again to protect the boy no matter what — the boy from those distant, younger days.