Sitting in the department store’s tea room, Rive’s pale green eyes moved restlessly around the room.

The coffee in front of her had long gone cold, yet she remained rigid in her seat, her back aching from the strain.

Surrounded by people enjoying their leisure time, an ornate teacup and delicate biscuits, and soft classical music, Rive found herself unable to blend in.

It seemed that Paul’s interview was taking longer than expected.

He had told her he would meet her here once he had finished, asking her to wait nearby. He had also mentioned that a new tea room had just opened inside the department store.

Fortunately, Rive’s attempt to sell her knitted goods had been successful.

They had agreed that she would deliver items every two months once she had built up enough stock, and she had even received an advance payment for the goods she had brought with her that day.

When she heard that they might increase her supply price depending on sales, she repeatedly bowed her head in gratitude.

There could be no better news.

Her heart had fluttered with excitement on the way there, but now, sitting alone in such an open space for so long, she found herself shrinking inward.

“Liz!”

Startled, Rive, who had been absentmindedly playing with her teacup, quickly raised her head.

From the entrance to the tea room came a familiar voice, accompanied by the soft chime of a bell, which brought her instant reassurance.

Perhaps he had run; his windswept brown hair brushed against his sun-kissed skin.

A bright smile bloomed on Rive’s lips.

The paint case slung over his broad shoulders looked small in comparison. Rive covered her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to hide her growing smile.

“How did the interview go?”

“Of course it went well!”

“It took quite a while.”

“I got an unexpected assignment. A model suddenly walked in, and they told me to paint a portrait right there in front of everyone—in two hours!”

Paul’s expression changed dramatically as he spoke, his words flowing one after another.

As she watched him quietly, Rive found herself thinking of Ainer.

The two men had more similarities than she had realized.

She listened attentively to everything: the way he scrunched his nose, scratched the back of his head and smiled playfully, revealing his deep dimples. She even noticed his habit of glancing at her as he spoke.

“They’ve got dormitories, so that’s a relief. Rent in the capital must be expensive.”

“Hm? Yeah, that’s true.”

Having finished recounting everything that had happened during the interview, Paul finally looked at Rive more closely.

His narrowed gaze lingered on her.

Though she tried to meet it calmly, the corners of her lips kept twitching upward.

“Liz, you—”

“Yes. I succeeded in supplying the department store.”

“I’m so happy for you, Liz!”

Paul beamed as if it were his own success.

Perhaps he had been a little too loud — Rive could feel the surrounding gazes turning towards them.

A server approached their table.

Flustered, Paul repeatedly bowed his head in apology, then suddenly reached out and grabbed Rive’s hand.

“Let’s go!”

“Where?”

“I’ve got something to show you!”

Rive glanced down at the hand that Paul was holding so tightly. Her expression was uncertain.

However, Paul was already pulling her along, brimming with excitement, as they left the tea room.

At that very moment, a man walking across the corridor glanced briefly at a woman whose wide-brimmed hat was pulled low over her face.

His leisurely steps gradually slowed.

The soles of his shoes brushed softly against the carpet as he fell into thought.

Then he turned.

His dark brown eyes sharpened as he focused on the woman being led away by the artist; her figure gradually disappeared into the distance.

“Bangton!”

At the sound of his name being called, the man quickly abandoned the thought and strode off in the opposite direction.

***

The Duke of Blackwood wore his usual faint smile.

However, while his lips curved gently, the coldness in his gaze was enough to make anyone shrink back.

Beside him, Rachel took a sip of champagne and finally shook her head, as if growing tired of it all.

“It seems everyone is quite eager to receive an investment from the great Duke of Blackwood.”

She tilted her head towards him and finished her drink.

Andrew gave her a brief glance, then let out a languid sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.

The lingering gazes around him persisted.

Rachel knew he didn’t enjoy these kinds of gatherings, but his indifferent attitude still left her feeling slightly dissatisfied.

“Don’t even think about sneaking away halfway through. At least stay put and act like a proper major shareholder of the Versailles Hotel.”

“You’ve gotten bolder.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

Seeing that he remained silent, Rachel’s eyebrows slowly drew together.

The truth was that the hotel would never have existed without him.

Because her father had insisted that business was no place for a woman, Rachel had never dared to dream of it.

Yet Andrew had readily promised a substantial investment.

As soon as word spread that the Duke of Blackwood was backing the project, investors began to come forward one after another.

To Rachel, he was like a savior.

At the same time, he was her first love, wrapped up in affection and resentment.

The reception had long since lost its original purpose.

Everyone seemed interested only in finding an opportunity to speak with the Duke of Blackwood.

If he were to leave halfway through, all the prestige she had worked so hard to build might begin to crumble.

Shoving her muddled thoughts aside, Rachel changed the subject.

“Bangton is in the capital too.”

“….”

“He’s planning to attend the National Art Institute charity event tomorrow.”

Andrew showed no particular reaction.

“After the event, the art auction always gets intense. He’s been preparing for it—says he’s going to beat you this time.”

Whatever her intention in bringing it up it didn’t matter.

Andrew still couldn’t escape the memories that endlessly filled his mind—alongside Hyacinth.

“That painter’s work is being auctioned this time too, right? It seems Bangton is after that as well.”

“….”

“It’s strange, really. How two people so incompatible have managed to stay friends all this time.”

What would his expression be if he knew those words had been spoken out of nothing more than a fleeting surge of jealousy?

Rachel had expected a reaction, but he remained silent.

He remained silent.

The soft music drifting through the hall soon shifted into a lively waltz.

Couples took to the dance floor.

“I don’t know what happened between you two, but I hope you reconcile soon.”

Rachel put down her empty champagne glass and stood up.

A young man was already standing there, politely asking her to dance.

Taking his hand, she stepped onto the dance floor.

Watching her retreating figure, Andrew let out a quiet, amused breath.

It was hardly a provocation worth reacting to, but he intended to indulge her wish for him to stay.

The reception was tedious, but if he went back to his hotel room alone, his thoughts would undoubtedly spiral into chaos once more.

Just then, a middle-aged man approached him as though gathering all his courage.

“G-Greetings, Your Grace. I—I am… from Southfirth. My name is Madners Tayligo.”

Andrew’s dark brows lifted slightly.

The mention of Southfirth scraped against his nerves.

Eager to hear what the man had to say, he nodded slightly.

Viscount Tayligo wiped the cold sweat from his brow and moistened his dry lips before speaking.

“I—I own a gold mine. Given its scale, I’m in need of a trustworthy investor… so I was hoping that, if I submitted a business proposal, you might be willing to review it.”

How had such an obvious fraud managed to gain entry to the Versailles Hotel’s grand opening reception?

As Andrew pondered this, his gaze fell on the hotel manager, who was watching him cautiously from a corner of the hall.

“Leave it here.”

“Y-you will? Truly?”

Unable to hide his excitement, Viscount Tayligo quickly pulled a file from inside his jacket and placed it on the table, bowing repeatedly.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

As the viscount shuffled away, those who had been waiting seized their chance and gathered around the Duke of Blackwood, approaching him one by one.

If engaging in such trivial matters could quiet his mind, even if only briefly, that alone was enough.

Andrew let them approach him without resistance.

***

“Liz, it’s tomorrow. You can see it at the National Art Institute gallery.”

“…Paul.”

“The train doesn’t leave until evening anyway—we still have plenty of time!”

“But…”

“Don’t worry about the price. There’s a charity event that day, so tickets are half the usual cost. It’s part of the event.”

There was already a queue of people waiting to receive pamphlets from the stand in front of the gallery.

Seeing how flustered Rive was, Paul carried on talking.

He wasn’t going to give up on persuading her.

After all, he knew better than anyone how much she loved Hyacinth’s paintings.

He wanted — no, he needed — to give her this.

“You’ve always wanted to see it in person. They say it’s the first time this painting will ever be displayed in a gallery.”

“….”

“If I get accepted into the institute, I’ll earn more anyway! So something like this—”

Rive’s lower lashes trembled and her eyes turned red.

It was only then that Paul took notice.

His words faltered and he blinked rapidly.

Had he said the wrong thing again?

Thoughts rushed through his mind, but when he heard her trembling voice, he let out a helpless laugh.

“I feel like I’m dreaming. Paul… will you pinch my cheek for me?”

A Hyacinth exhibition.

Among the countless works the painter had created, there was one piece hailed as a true masterpiece.

This painting had never been displayed to the public before, except in catalogues and magazines.

Tomorrow, that very painting would be displayed at the National Art Institute gallery.

Rive’s heart swelled with emotion.