Chapter 2.3

“Cough!”

Even without eating, a sudden cough can linger. Half out of pity and half out of guilt, Danielle patted Cyril’s back as he doubled over, coughing uncontrollably. After a long bout of embarrassing spluttering, Cyril finally straightened himself, clutching his sore side. His gray eyes, damp with tears, made Danielle burst into laughter.

“You’re hilarious right now.”

“No, Danielle. That’s… Cough.”

“This is the first time I’ve seen you cry since we were kids… Are you okay?”

“Are you serious?”

Oh.

The scent of flowers and the water droplet-like starlight had all been swept away by the earlier commotion. The sudden sneeze-like remark didn’t come again. Danielle looked up at Cyril’s wet cheeks. Tears caused by a coughing fit were entirely different from real tears. His face, demanding a serious answer, left Danielle speechless. 

What had I just said? Oh, right. Should we just get married already… 

Danielle hastily cobbled together an excuse.

“Well, I was just thinking about how long we’re going to keep getting teased like this.”

“Marriage won’t change much.”

“Still, wouldn’t people stop acting like this around someone’s spouse?”

“…I doubt anyone would challenge me to a duel over putting my name in the draw ten times.”

“Hmm.”

They might not challenge him to a duel. They might even laugh it off, saying it must be fate if someone else drew the lot after a hundred tries. 

If we really got married… 

The thought suddenly overwhelmed Danielle, and she fell silent again.

Marriage. The next step after engagement. Signing a marriage license side by side at the registry. Missing one’s spouse like Lawrence Weiss did. And perhaps…

Cyril, who had wiped his tears, was now looking down at her. Danielle realized she had missed the moment to respond. Whatever she said now wouldn’t be sincere. So Danielle chose to deflect.

“Then are we not getting married?”

“Ah. No, we should. We’ll get married.”

Cyril, as always, answered her in his usual dry tone. Only Danielle could recognize that his tone was, in fact, a reprimand. With sweat trickling down her back in the heat, she watched as Cyril stepped ahead, about a step and a half in front of her. Struggling to keep up with his pace, she hurried along in small, unfamiliar steps.

After walking silently for about ten steps, Cyril suddenly spoke.

“Did you know? The only one who believes we’ll actually get married is my father.”

“What? Not even my father believes it?”

Cyril didn’t turn around. It was a foolish question to ask Cyril about his father’s thoughts, and just as Danielle realized this, he answered slowly.

“…No.”

“And you?”

The silence that followed was much longer this time. Their steps, which had barely resumed, came to a halt once more. Danielle finally realized that it was her turn to apologize. But she had no idea what to say after apologizing… She opened her mouth hesitantly, only to close it again, nervously biting her lips. Cyril, standing with his back to her, let out a sigh.

“I think the same as you. So, let’s just go pick out a dress for the ball.”

On any other day, Danielle would have called him a coward for this. But today, she couldn’t bring herself to criticize him.

***

The two parted ways within sight of the Odillon family’s gatekeeper. As if they had completely forgotten about the topic of marriage, they discussed the necessary arrangements for the ball in a strictly businesslike manner, as if they were nothing more than dance partners.

As always, Danielle lightly waved her hand as she turned to leave. But this time, Cyril hesitated before taking her hand, pressing a brief kiss to the back of it. Normally, she would have recoiled in horror, calling it a ridiculous gesture. But the spot where his lips touched was colder and more indifferent than she had expected, and Danielle accepted the gesture like an old-fashioned noblewoman. Perhaps it was because the ticklish feeling at the tip of her nose had already cooled once.

Why on earth had I brought up something as serious as marriage, something I couldn’t even answer sincerely? Was it because I envied Lawrence, who had dashed off earlier, overcome with thoughts of his wife? 

Hiding the back of her hand, Danielle took a few steps backward. When her embarrassment finally overcame the ticklish feeling, she spun around and ran home. The gatekeeper, who had recognized the youngest daughter from a distance, opened and closed the wrought-iron gate at just the right moment. Looking back through the gate, she saw Cyril finally turning to leave.

“Are you busy?”

“Father.”

To her surprise, the Marquis Odillon had come out into the hallway to greet his daughter. Danielle felt a pang of guilt. While her father enjoyed hearing praise about his youngest daughter’s competence, that didn’t mean he approved of her coming home late at night after working overtime or drinking heavily. At least today, she hadn’t been drinking… As she thought of the taverns frequented by the Royal Investigation Bureau lamenting their loss, Danielle put on her most innocent smile.

“With the summer festival just around the corner, things will calm down by fall.”

“Even the Knights? Cyril stopped by earlier this evening.”

“Oh, yes.”

Danielle paused, about to mention that she had just seen him herself. Even if it was Cyril, and even if all they had done was walk along the main road, her father wouldn’t be pleased to hear that they had been alone together until this hour. 

‘The only one who believes we’ll actually get married is my father.’

Cyril’s words silenced her.

The Marquis Odillon stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in. Just as she had done with Cyril earlier, Danielle walked alongside her father. Smiling as if particularly proud of his youngest daughter, the marquis cleared his throat softly.

“The gatekeeper said a man escorted you home earlier.”

“Father, that’s…”

Danielle regretted it a moment too late. She should have mentioned meeting Cyril first. Especially if she had anticipated her father’s next words. If she had, she might have smacked him on the back of the head and declared, ‘That man is my fiancé!’

Her father, who refused to let her carry anything heavier than a lace parasol yet taught her never to lose to any man, who wept when she so much as danced a waltz with a man, yet couldn’t stop her from joining the Royal Investigation Bureau, filled with violent crime cases—this contradictory man, the Marquis Odillon, said the following:

“You know that your engagement contract includes the Lovron Clause, don’t you?”

“What… What?”

An engagement contract? The Lovron Clause? What was that…? 

Just as she vaguely recalled that “Lovron,” one of the 144 standard contracts in the kingdom, was as famous as employment and lease agreements, her father continued with an overly solemn expression.

“If you’ve found someone else and don’t want to marry Sir Cyril Frey… I’ll do whatever it takes to invoke the Lovron Clause and annul the engagement.”

“Father, no, that’s not…”

No, it’s a misunderstanding. The man who was with me earlier was Cyril Frey… 

Surely her father had heard about the man kissing the back of her hand. Flustered by the belated embarrassment, Danielle felt her ears heat up, but before she could correct the misunderstanding, her father grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. She missed her chance to explain again. She noticed that her father’s ears were just as red as hers. Of course. His flushed face wasn’t due to embarrassment or shyness.

“I’m not saying this because I’m reluctant to pay damages! What’s an engagement, anyway? If you love someone, you should be happy with them. So…”

“Father, did you fight with Viscount Frey?”

The Marquis Odillon clamped his mouth shut. An awkward silence lingered between father and daughter. 

Grown men in their fifties… 

With a heart that had gone completely cold, Danielle decided to at least pat her father’s shoulder. His flushed face smelled faintly of alcohol. Danielle Odillon, the not-so-cute youngest daughter of the Marquis Odillon, half-heartedly comforted her drunken father.

“Thank you for thinking of me, Father. But that won’t happen.”

“When you were ten, you cried and screamed for days, saying you’d never marry that boy…”

“When was that, Father…”

But she hadn’t decided to marry him either. She had just realized she couldn’t make up her mind. The marquis, unaware of the complicated expression on his daughter’s face, embraced her shoulders.

“Anyway! All I want is for you to be happy. Our family isn’t short on money or power! Engagement, annulment, marriage, divorce—do whatever you want. Got it?”

I haven’t even managed to get married yet, so what’s this talk of divorce, Father… 

Danielle stifled a hollow laugh and grabbed her father’s hand, dragging him toward the study. When he got this drunk, her mother would never open the bedroom door for him. She could leave him here, and someone would take care of him. But since she had already secured his blessing for a potential divorce, she supposed she should do her duty as a daughter.

“Yes, yes. I’ll do as I please. Now, go to bed, all right?”

“Do you know, Danielle? When I served as an honorary judge at the family court, proving the conditions for invoking the Lovron Clause to annul an engagement wasn’t easy. If someone came back with a child… No, wait. That’s… No, no, no! Why not, though? In this day and age, why not?”

“…Father. Are you seriously telling me to go and have a child?”  

“No, no! Of course not! That’s not what I meant! My daughter… doing such a thing… sniff…”  

It was already irritating enough to see a drunken man crying, but when that man was her father, it became even more unbearable. And if he started spouting nonsense about having a child, the irritation reached its peak. Danielle was more than ready to unleash the annoyance she had held back earlier with Cyril onto her father. 

No, wait—it’s still my father. Calm down, Danielle… You’re almost at the study. The butler is right there by the door. Just five more steps, and you can drop him onto a chair…  

“Danielle, this father of yours has something to confess… Your brother, Xasha, is actually…”  

“Ugh! Ahhh! Stop it, Father! Ugh!”  

Danielle shuddered and shoved her father toward the butler. The butler skillfully caught the Marquis and mouthed a silent goodnight to her. Huffing and puffing, Danielle turned toward the staircase leading upstairs. 

What? Go have a child? Break off the engagement? Talking about the Lovron Clause? 

Danielle didn’t think an engagement was something you could drunkenly argue over and break, even if you had a written contract to bind the families together. Walking alongside Cyril earlier, she had wrestled with thoughts that now felt like they’d been thrown into the trash.  

Danielle didn’t believe contracts worked like that. Cyril wouldn’t think of duty in that way either. Most importantly, she didn’t think love worked like that. 

The Lovron Clause? Irrecoverable love? What nonsense! There’s no such thing as irrecoverable love in this world. Maybe the heart of the betrayed party, but that’s a different matter.  

At that moment, the possibility of the “Lovron Clause,” a clause allowing the annulment of an engagement without fault, interfering in her life seemed utterly nonexistent.