Chapter 157 : An Apology Without Heart
Aracila smoothly shifted the topic. It was a timely relief for Damian, whose mood had been plummeting even further.
“What is it?”
“I asked Her Highness the Grand Duchess as well, but I couldn’t find anyone named Cyan Mondor. He might be a foreigner, or perhaps it’s not a person’s name at all.”
Damian slowly nodded, having momentarily forgotten about the note from the jewelry box amid the various events that had unfolded.
With so many pressing matters on his plate, his mother’s issue, which wasn’t immediately urgent, kept getting pushed to the back burner.
“It seems like it’ll take some time to track him down.”
“That’s fine, my lady. You don’t need to search anymore.”
Damian replied calmly. Aracila sent him a puzzled glance at the unexpected words.
“Pardon? Why not?”
“Isn’t it a waste of your time? You’re already busy enough with Magic Tower affairs; you don’t have to concern yourself with my matters any longer. I’ll look into it myself later.”
Damian’s voice was polite and reasonably gentle as he said this. His intention was to be considerate of her.
Yet Aracila felt a corner of her heart freeze over.
Though phrased mildly, Damian’s words essentially meant for her to stop meddling in his affairs.
Unable to voice how she could possibly do that as his wife, Aracila quietly bit her lip.
Broadly speaking, Damian was right. They were headed for divorce in the near future, so if she got involved unnecessarily and abandoned the effort midway without resolving it, it would only complicate things more for him.
It was time for each of them to handle their own business. In preparation for the divorce, and for the parting.
Reminding herself of that fact, Aracila slowly opened her mouth.
“Alright. Then I’ll step back from it now.”
“Yes, thank you for your efforts thus far.”
“It was nothing. I didn’t do anything particularly strenuous.”
They wrapped up the conversation awkwardly, and both fell silent, focusing on their meal. For a while, only the clinking of utensils echoed through the dining hall.
Somehow having lost her appetite, Aracila chewed the food in her mouth slowly and cast a sidelong glance at her husband.
Seated with his sculpted features, Damian moved his hands with elegance, but he emanated less warmth than before.
It felt as though an inexplicable boundary had been redrawn between them, after the softness that had developed over the four seasons. And this line seemed even stronger than the one that had existed when they first met.
She told herself it was only natural, since she had been the one to broach the subject of divorce, yet she couldn’t help the turmoil stirring in her heart.
‘It might be better to just get the divorce over with outright; this gradual severing feels truly awful.’
Amid all this, her feelings for Damian stubbornly persisted, which was utterly maddening.
In the end, neither spoke again until the meal concluded. But both rose from their seats in equally somber moods.
* * *
Eric joined the truth serum research without issue, on the condition that he would take charge of cultivation and management once the Dillai flower was revived.
As the owner of a mild temperament, he seamlessly blended in with Sally and Rudy, becoming close enough to laugh and chat heartily within a single day.
Before long, just a few days later, he was exchanging friendly greetings with other mages in the Magic Tower. Aracila was impressed by his remarkable affability.
In truth, for someone like her whose social skills weren’t particularly outstanding, Eric was the first person she’d grown comfortable with in such a short time.
“Ah, Lord Roberts. Have you mentioned to my sister that you’re working with me?”
“No, not yet. I’ve been so absorbed in the research that I forgot.”
“She must not have thought anything strange of it? If you suddenly started commuting to the Magic Tower from your home lab, she might wonder if something happened.”
Come to think of it, if Iris knew about Eric’s visits to the Magic Tower, she surely would have contacted her, but the complete silence struck Aracila as suddenly odd.
Lovers usually shared at least the basics of what they were up to, didn’t they?
Eric flinched for a moment before offering an awkward smile and an excuse.
“Ah… We’ve been too busy lately to see each other often. So she doesn’t know I’m coming and going from the Magic Tower. Haha, I should tell her soon.”
“Well, that can happen when you’re busy. After getting married and dealing with all sorts of things, my conversations with my sister have drastically decreased in frequency.”
To the point that she was the last in the family to learn about her relationship with Eric. Though they still loved each other, the sisterly bond wasn’t quite the same as before.
Eric nodded as if he understood, then spoke in a gentle tone.
“Did you know, Lady Vandemir? They say that the closer the relationship, the more frequently you should communicate.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Because people tend to make the mistake of assuming they know the other person’s heart, leading them to guess unilaterally.”
Eric smiled warmly. It didn’t sound wrong, so Aracila listened attentively without rebuttal.
“How can you know what’s truly in someone’s heart without asking? They might be harboring unspoken worries, or thinking something entirely different from what you assume.”
“The way you put it, you sound more like a psychologist than a botanist.”
“Haha, do I?”
Eric laughed heartily and bid farewell, saying he should get going. Aracila also wrapped up her remaining tasks and prepared to head home.
With Eric on board, the stalled research was progressing bit by bit, so her expression on the way back wasn’t too bad.
As she stepped into the Vandemir mansion, now as familiar as the Marquis Hugo’s residence, she spotted Damian standing rigidly, holding something in his hand.
“Damian, what are you doing there?”
“Ah, my lady.”
Damian, snapping back to his senses at her clear-toned question, turned to face her.
“Here, this arrived for you, my lady.”
He handed Aracila the envelope he’d been holding in his other hand. The imperial crest was stamped on its surface.
Aracila accepted it silently and examined it.
“To Lady Aracila Vandemir.
This year, to express gratitude and encouragement to those who have labored for the glory of the Empire, and to wish for unity and progress in the coming new year, the New Year’s banquet will be held.
As the successor to the Magic Tower Lord, we hope you will attend and grace the occasion with your presence.”
“It’s an invitation to the New Year’s banquet.”
“Yes, that’s right. I received one as well.”
What Damian had been scrutinizing with a feigned serious expression was precisely the New Year’s banquet invitation.
The Setron Empire hosted a New Year’s banquet each year, inviting high-ranking dignitaries from within the nation and abroad. It was an event reserved for a select few, so both had only heard of it in passing.
Typically, only the heads of noble houses received invitations; those without notable achievements or titles, like the children, lacked the qualifications to attend.
Yet this time, both Aracila and Damian had been invited. One as the successor to the Magic Tower Lord, the other as a Sword Master.
“The Red Hawk Knights have also been requested to handle external security.”
“Has that happened before?”
“No, this is the first time. For both the security request and the invitation.”
Damian had become a Sword Master nearly a decade ago. The sudden invitation citing that reason, after years of silence, felt distinctly unsettling.
Moreover, he was the one who had recently brought down the Empress’s maternal family. It raised doubts about whether the summons was truly well-intentioned.
That was why he’d been staring at the invitation with a grave face upon receiving it.
“Hmm, it does feel a bit off. I’m not particularly eager to attend, but since it’s an imperial invitation, we can’t refuse, can we?”
“Yes, and they invited us each separately, didn’t they? Not attending could bring harm to the Magic Tower and the knights’ order.”
That must have been the reason for sending individual invitations to each of them.
A silent sigh escaped them both at the same time. As Aracila tucked the invitation back into the envelope with a look of annoyance, she inadvertently turned her head toward Damian.
Their eyes met in that instant.
Since the day she’d run into Eric by chance, the couple had scarcely faced each other. Damian had thrown himself into work like a man possessed, leaving early in the morning and returning late at night.
As a result, his already refined features had grown leaner, accentuating his sharp jawline even more.
‘Why is he acting so rushed, like he’s being chased by something…’
Aracila, who had been unconsciously scanning him, froze when their gazes collided again.
With the reduced time they spent together, their relationship had lately become strangely distant. It felt awkward and uncomfortable.
It was bearable when she wasn’t consciously aware of it, but moments like this, when they became attuned to each other, left her at a complete loss.
Suddenly, Aracila recalled Eric’s words—that the closer the bond, the more frequent communication should be.
‘Does that apply to us as well…?’
Their relationship was ambiguous—neither close nor distant—so as Aracila hesitated, Damian spoke first.
“My lady, if you attend the New Year’s banquet, be cautious around His Highness the Crown Prince. It’s best to avoid getting entangled if possible.”
“Don’t worry. His Highness and I aren’t even friends anymore, so that won’t happen.”
“Still, be careful. Even if the connection is severed, feelings can remain unpredictable.”
Damian advised her earnestly. Aracila nodded slowly and replied.
“You be careful too. He might seek revenge over the Marquis Grant incident.”
“Yes, I’ll be vigilant.”
Having responded politely, Damian turned away. Aracila watched him ascend the stairs in silence, without calling him back.
She still didn’t know what to say.
* * *
Foreign dignitaries invited to the New Year’s banquet began arriving one by one. The Emperor had his adult children take turns greeting them.
Thus, Crown Prince Frederick, Prince Lucas, and Princess Gloria each went to the city gates on alternate days.
The Imperial Knights laid down tight security in all directions. As if that weren’t enough, on Frederick’s day, even the Red Hawk Knights were summoned.
Though reluctant, Damian didn’t show it and dutifully visited the imperial palace for the escort duty. Frederick, dressed resplendently to welcome the delegation, greeted him.
“It’s been a while, Sir Vandemir.”
“I present myself to Your Highness the Crown Prince.”
Watching Damian bow his head toward him, Frederick drew up the corners of his mouth in a thin smile.
“Seeing you like this fills me with such joy. I had something to say to you anyway.”
In truth, he’d deliberately called upon the Red Hawk Knights and now feigned casual conversation.
He placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder, his eyebrows drooping in mock sympathy.
“I heard about the terrible thing my maternal uncle did to you. Allow me to apologize on his behalf. I’m truly sorry, Sir Vandemir.”
Damian’s eyebrows twitched faintly. He hadn’t expected Frederick to bring up Marquis Grant first, right to his face. He stared at the Crown Prince, who wore an expression of profound regret.
Contrary to his claim of sincerity, the Crown Prince’s red eyes were cold.
“I had no idea the Marquis would do something like that—I never dreamed it. I suppose I confided my worries about Aracila to him a few times, and in his misguided affection for his nephew, he made a mistake.”
Damian barely suppressed a burst of laughter. The intent behind uttering such words in a place with many eyes watching was obvious.
It was to downplay Marquis Grant’s crimes as mere errors and publicly assert his own non-involvement in the assassination attempt.
