Chapter 114: Trusting Each Other
“You’re right, it’s always best to confirm these things clearly. But if you answer honestly without lying, I assure you, Roberto won’t cause you any trouble. So, speak freely.”
The theater owner looked at her, startled by the clear, resonant voice, then tilted his head as he noticed her face concealed tightly beneath a hood and robe.
“Miss, isn’t that uncomfortable? You’re indoors—why don’t you take off the hat and robe?”
“I’ll manage, so don’t worry about it. Just tell me who the father of the child is.”
There was a strange, compelling force in her voice that seemed to command obedience, and the theater owner, as if entranced, began to speak.
“Well, uh… to be honest, I don’t know exactly who it is. She wasn’t married, you see. She said she got pregnant by a man she met by chance.”
“A man she met by chance?”
“Yes… some nobleman’s child, she said. Foolish girl. For an actress, there’s no worse ending than that.”
A deep sigh escaped him, his face tinged with faint concern for Claire. It wasn’t uncommon for actresses to fall for the sweet talk of noblemen, only to be abandoned after a fleeting affair. The grim fates of those cast aside needed no elaboration.
Aracila pressed further with questions, but no useful answers came. The theater owner admitted he had never even seen the man Claire had been involved with. All he knew came from rumors among the staff or things Claire had mentioned when she left.
“Who was closest to Claire here? Could you call them for me?” Roberto asked, prompted by a discreet signal from Aracila to dig deeper.
The theater owner, though visibly uneasy about their persistent inquiries into Claire, complied to avoid trouble. “There’s an actress who was very close to Claire, but she’s away right now. I can call a staff member who worked with her for a long time instead.”
And so, a slightly plump young woman with an unremarkable appearance appeared. She introduced herself as Dana, explaining that she handled cleaning and other odd jobs at the theater. When asked about the nobleman who had gotten Claire pregnant, Dana hesitated but answered earnestly.
“I saw them together near the theater a couple of times from a distance. He was quite tall, with very light-colored hair.”
“Did you see his face?”
“Not at all. It was late at night, and the street was dark. Honestly, I barely recognized Claire at first.”
Dana gave an awkward smile. Roberto exchanged a glance with Aracila before pressing further, asking if Claire had shared anything else. Dana’s eyes rolled thoughtfully as she searched her memory.
“She said he was from a very prominent family. If things went well, she might even leave the capital with him, depending on his wishes.”
“Leave the capital? Why?”
“I don’t know. Honestly, Claire didn’t tell me much about him. She confided more in Mia.”
Mia was the actress the theater owner had mentioned, Claire’s closest friend. When no further information could be gleaned from Dana, Aracila spoke up.
“When does this Mia return to the theater?”
“She’s on leave, visiting her hometown. She won’t be back for a few days.”
Disappointment flickered across Aracila’s face, and she bit her lip lightly. As they wrapped up the conversation and prepared to leave, she handed the theater owner a note and three gold coins.
“When Mia returns to the capital, please inform Roberto immediately. I’m counting on you.”
“Oh, absolutely!”
The theater owner’s eyes gleamed at the sight of the gold, and he nodded eagerly. Beaming, he bowed deeply as the two left the theater.
Only when they were far from the Flair Theater did Aracila finally remove her stifling hat and robe. “Roberto, let me know the moment you hear from the theater owner.”
“Understood, my lady. But why are you so interested in Claire? Do you know this nobleman, perhaps…?” Roberto asked, his face brimming with curiosity.
Aracila’s lips curled into a wry smile as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “The less you know, the better. And don’t go blabbing about today to anyone. Got it?”
“…Yes, ma’am!”
Sensing the dangerous edge in her tone, Roberto nodded vigorously. After dropping him off in front of the Parkxian Theater, Aracila rode home alone in the carriage, lost in thought.
At least it’s certain now that Claire was actually involved with someone.
With a third party’s testimony, it was clear Claire hadn’t fabricated some imaginary figure.
But does that mean the man was impersonating Damian? And how did he get hold of that handkerchief?
Aracila mentally sorted through those who could have access to a handkerchief bearing the Vandemir family crest: the Vandemir ducal family, their retainers, the mansion staff, the Red Hawk Knights. The list was dauntingly long. In truth, anyone could have come across it by chance.
With no solid leads, narrowing it down will be tough for now.
It seemed best to wait patiently for Mia’s return. Until then, she would continue investigating Claire and Damian’s circles. The problem, however, was that patience wasn’t a virtue everyone shared—least of all someone else.
“Exclusive: A Woman Pregnant with Damian Vandemir’s Child Appears!”
Claire had gone to the capital’s largest newspaper and revealed her pregnancy. She claimed she’d come forward out of fear that Damian’s side might try to silence her and her child.
The capital was thrown into an uproar the moment the article hit. A scandal involving an illegitimate child tied to the youngest sword master and leader of the Red Hawk Knights? It was explosive, especially since Damian had been married to Aracila for less than a year, and their marriage was famously harmonious.
“Senior! Is the article true? Did Sir Vandemir really…?”
Sally and Rudy rushed to Aracila, clutching the special edition of the newspaper. Already aware of the article and preparing to hurry home, Aracila responded firmly.
“It’s not true. Even if Damian were at fault, I’ll uncover the truth myself. Don’t let other people’s gossip sway you.”
Aracila headed straight home. But as she approached the mansion, a swarm of reporters was already gathered at the gate, buzzing like hyenas spotting prey. The moment they saw her carriage, their eyes glinted with predatory excitement, and they surged forward.
“Lady Vandemir! Is it true your husband had an affair with an unknown actress?”
“Is that actress’s child really Sir Vandemir’s heir?”
“Lady, please, say something!”
Aracila responded with icy courtesy to the reporters rudely blocking her carriage and pounding on the windows with their questions.
“Get away from my house.”
In the brief moment of stunned silence that followed, her carriage slipped smoothly through the mansion’s iron gates.
Soon after, Damian returned home as well, and the couple sat across from each other in the study. Damian, having pushed through the throng of reporters camped outside the knights’ headquarters, was overwhelmed with a sense of devastation he could hardly articulate. Claire’s one-sided claims, now splashed across newspapers distributed throughout the empire, ensured that for the foreseeable future, he would be branded as the worst kind of scoundrel. A man who, not content with betraying his wife during their honeymoon phase, had fathered an illegitimate child.
The scandal didn’t terrify him because it tarnished his own honor. It was the fact that it dragged Aracila’s name through the mud alongside his. If it were only his reputation suffering, he could bear it. But the thought of innocent Aracila being pulled down with him filled him with guilt so heavy he could barely lift his head. Worse still, he had been publicly labeled as no different from the father he so despised—a mark of shame that cut deeper than anything else.
“Damian, are you okay?”
“…Are you okay, my lady?”
Aracila’s voice broke through the silence as she looked at Damian, who had been sitting with his head bowed since entering the study. He responded in a low, heavy voice, his question tinged with concern. A dark, oppressive aura seemed to emanate from him, cloaking the room in gloom.
“I’m fine,” Aracila said. “It’s you I’m worried about.”
“I’m…”
Damian trailed off, unable to bring himself to say he was fine. Aracila gazed at him with concern and let out a soft sigh.
“I never imagined Claire would do something like this. I should’ve made sure she kept her mouth shut.”
“If we can’t clearly identify the real father, everyone will assume the child is mine,” Damian said, his face contorting as he pressed his palm against his brow. Even if he denied it vehemently, the public’s gaze would undoubtedly paint him as guilty.
“I worked so hard to avoid this,” he murmured. “And yet, it seems I might end up living the same life as my father after all.”
“Damian.”
“Why did this have to happen to me? Is it some inescapable curse of my bloodline…?”
Thwack. A sharp, stinging sensation snapped Damian out of his spiraling thoughts. He looked at Aracila, dazed, as she gripped his shoulder with a force that belied her slender frame, her patience worn thin by his self-pity.
“Nothing’s been decided yet, so why are you already talking like you’ve given up?”
She seized his hand tightly. Her touch was small and delicate but radiated warmth.
“Don’t worry. You’ve got me.”
“My lady…”
The clear, unwavering resolve in her eyes and the warmth of her hand calmed Damian almost instantly, taming the storm within him.
“Damian, I believe in you. Do you believe in me?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then trust me and wait. I’ll prove your innocence, I swear it.”
Aracila’s voice was soft but resolute, each word spoken with the weight of a vow. With the scandal now public, it was difficult for Damian to act directly—any move he made could be misconstrued as an attempt to cover up the pregnancy. His honor, and whether it could be salvaged, rested in Aracila’s hands. She had to uncover the truth: that the nobleman Claire had been involved with was not Damian.
“You’re not alone in this,” she said, her lips curving into a confident smile. “No matter what happens, I’ll make sure you come out of this.”
Her steady, unwavering voice seeped into Damian’s heart, soothing the raw edges of his fear. Unable to hide the flush creeping up his ears, he silently tightened his grip on her hand.
***
The follow-up reports about Damian poured in relentlessly. There were those who kept fanning the flames, ensuring the scandal never died down. Chief among them were the women from Fourth Street, some of whom claimed they, too, had been involved with Damian, inflating the scandal to monstrous proportions. The newspapers of the Setron Empire were practically thriving on Damian’s name alone.
“The Honorable Knight’s True Face: A Lecherous Fraud? The Two-Faced Sword Master!”
“How Long Must We Watch Husbands Betray Their Wives?”
“‘I Hate Infidelity’—The Tragic Fate of Lady Vandemir”
“Another Illegitimate Child Scandal Rocks the Vandemir Ducal House! Like Father, Like Son?”
Aracila scanned the malicious, gleeful headlines and let out a weary sigh. Several times a day, newspapers plastered with such articles hit the stands, and a flood of letters and calls poured in from all sides. Aracila’s pen nib was practically worn to nothing as she wrote responses to those offering condolences or casting suspicion on Damian.
At least there was some solace in the support from Marquis Hugo’s family. They stood by Damian, offering encouragement and concern for the couple. For Damian, who had secretly feared their rejection, this support lifted a small but significant weight from his heart.
In stark contrast, the Vandemir ducal family unleashed a torrent of vitriol and blame. They accused him of smearing the family name, sneering that they’d always known his sanctimonious act would crumble. Not a single word of concern was offered—only insults and attempts to drive a wedge between the couple.
Roberto, shocked to learn the truth, reached out but agreed to continue investigating Claire’s background without pause. If Damian truly were the kind of man who’d betrayed his wife, these efforts might become a laughingstock later. But—
Damian would never do that.
Aracila’s faith in him was unshakable. Her conviction only grew stronger after discovering that more than half of the women claiming illicit encounters with Damian had cited times when he was away from the capital on beast-slaying missions. Their stories were impossible unless Damian had somehow mastered the art of being in two places at once.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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