Chapter 158: My Husband’s Grandfather
To avoid playing into Frederick’s hands, Damian had no choice but to reject his apology…
‘But if I brush off the crown prince’s apology in front of so many people, I’ll only come off as disrespectful.’
This wasn’t a private meeting between the two of them—it was a formal occasion to welcome foreign dignitaries, surrounded by imperial knights and attendants. Already, a few onlookers were signaling with their eyes for Damian to respond quickly.
At Frederick’s cunning calculation, Damian let out a hollow chuckle.
Quickly composing his expression, he straightened his posture and spoke.
“My apologies, Your Highness. It was my oversight. Had I known you were so deeply concerned, I should have come to see you sooner.”
Instead of accepting the apology, Damian cleverly sidestepped Frederick’s trap by turning it back on him.
This way, he would not only appear as the gracious victim but also earn the reputation of a magnanimous man who apologized despite being wronged.
Frederick twisted his lips into a silent smirk.
He’d thought Damian was just some slow-witted brute who’d spent his life swinging a sword.
‘A fox in disguise, aren’t you, Damian Vandemir?’
Gritting his teeth, Frederick soon plastered on a good-natured smile and patted Damian’s shoulder.
“No, why should you apologize? If anything, it’s my worrisome nature that’s to blame. I got worked up over Aracila for no reason.”
The familiar way Frederick called Aracila’s name again grated on Damian’s nerves.
He knew full well they were estranged, yet he still spoke her name as if they were close friends. It was incomprehensible.
‘Is it pathetic lingering, or an obsessive denial of reality?’
Either way, it was an unwelcome reason. Struggling to keep his face from crumpling, Damian spoke.
“It seems you were quite concerned about my wife.”
“Oh, yes. I heard the succession struggle in the Vandemir ducal house is quite fierce. I was worried whether my old friend could manage as a supportive spouse.”
Frederick said this with an air of innocence. To think he could call her an old friend after what he’d done to her.
Stunned by the sheer audacity, Damian replied stiffly.
“No need to worry, Your Highness. Supporting my spouse is my duty as her husband.”
“Is that so? You’re quite the devoted husband, aren’t you?”
Just then, the delegation’s carriage appeared at the city gate’s entrance. Frederick turned slowly, adding a soft murmur.
“Though whether you’ll remain a good husband to the end remains to be seen.”
Damian had no time to retort, as he had to move to escort the crown prince.
Frederick approached the delegation descending from the carriage with a radiant smile.
Following a step behind, Damian felt an uneasy prickling. The crown prince’s muttered remark was too suggestive to dismiss as trivial.
But he couldn’t very well stop and confront him about it, so Damian had no choice but to let it slide.
With two days left until the New Year’s ceremony, the final delegation arrived safely.
The next day, the imperial palace hosted a pre-ceremony gala to welcome the delegations.
Aracila attended the gala in a black velvet dress adorned with soft white fur at the neckline, its hem deepening into a rich crimson hue. Her hair, parted to the left and swept voluminously, was accented with black sapphire accessories, leaving one shoulder bare to exude an alluring elegance.
“Lady Aracila Vandemir has arrived!”
Damian was occupied managing the knights tasked with external security for the gala, so Aracila had agreed to enter alone first.
Fortunately, Marquis Hugo and his wife, the Marchioness, were also invited guests, so she didn’t have to worry about being alone.
Scanning the hall, Aracila realized her parents had yet to arrive and moved to the side, intending to wait for them.
“Lady Vandemir.”
Just then, the Grand Duchess of Keystone spotted her alone and approached with a warm smile.
Aracila returned the greeting with a delighted expression.
“Where’s your husband?”
“He’s gone to check on the knights. He’ll join me shortly.”
“I see. Well, you must be bored—come here.”
The Grand Duchess gently tugged Aracila’s hand. Aracila followed willingly without resistance.
The Grand Duchess led her to a group she’d been conversing with. Half the faces were familiar, half were not.
“Let me introduce you. This is Lady Vandemir, a dear acquaintance of mine. And these are the prince and nobles from the Kingdom of Kail, here as part of the New Year’s delegation.”
Now knowing the identities of the unfamiliar faces, Aracila greeted them courteously.
“It’s an honor to meet you. I am Aracila Vandemir.”
“I’m Noah, the first prince of the Kingdom of Kail. It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady.”
Following Noah’s polite and composed greeting, the other nobles introduced themselves: two middle-aged male nobles and a young noblewoman around Aracila’s age.
Thanks to the Grand Duchess’s thoughtfulness, Aracila found it easy to join their conversation.
As they chatted amicably, the Grand Duchess suddenly spoke up, as if recalling something.
“Oh, that reminds me, I meant to ask. Is there anyone in the Kingdom of Kail named Cyan Mondor?”
She had remembered Aracila’s diligent search for Cyan Mondor and brought it up to offer help.
Aracila, who had already decided to step back from that matter, flinched slightly. But saying she no longer needed to search might embarrass the Grand Duchess, so she remained silent.
“Cyan Mondor, Cyan Mondor…” Noah repeated the name a few times, then shook his head and glanced at the nobles. “I’m afraid it’s a name I’ve never heard. What about you?”
The others seemed equally unfamiliar with it.
“Is this Cyan Mondor a noble from the Kingdom of Kail?”
“I’m not sure myself,” the Grand Duchess replied, placing a hand on Aracila’s shoulder. “Lady Vandemir is looking for this person, but all she knows is the name.”
A male noble with a distinctive curled mustache stroked his chin and spoke.
“Hmm, if that’s the case, it seems unlikely they’re from our kingdom. I’ve never heard the name Cyan Mondor in my life,” said the noble with the curled mustache.
“Count Lusso here is the kingdom’s greatest socialite. If he doesn’t know someone, they’re almost certainly not from Kail,” Prince Noah added with a gentle smile.
But Aracila’s attention had already drifted from their conversation.
Her focus was elsewhere.
Just moments ago, when Noah had repeated the name Cyan Mondor several times—
Clink!
Someone had dropped a glass upon hearing those words. Glancing toward the sound, Aracila saw an elderly man standing frozen, his face oddly familiar.
‘Is he reacting like that because he heard the name Cyan Mondor?’
As the name came up again, the old man, who had barely begun to move, started trembling visibly.
That was when Aracila became certain.
‘He knows who Cyan Mondor is!’
Eager to speak with him, she politely excused herself from the Grand Duchess and the others and stepped away from the group.
Though she had decided to let the matter go, the prospect of a major clue right in front of her spurred her into action.
Approaching the old man confidently, Aracila flashed a warm smile and greeted him.
“Good evening, sir.”
“…?”
“I’m Aracila Vandemir.”
The old man looked at her with startled eyes, clearly taken aback by her sudden approach.
His wavering golden eyes bore a striking resemblance to Damian’s.
He scanned her with a guarded expression, then pressed his lips tightly together and turned his head. Even in his advanced age, his sharp profile carried a cold edge.
Undeterred by his blatant dismissal, Aracila tried again, her tone soft and friendly.
“I’m Aracila Vandemir. May I have the honor of knowing your name, sir?”
Her clear, lake-blue eyes gazed at him with a tenacity that suggested she wouldn’t back down until he answered.
Reluctantly, the old man spoke.
“…Why do you want to know? What’s it to you?”
His gruff retort made Aracila blink, but she quickly broke into a radiant smile.
“Can’t I simply be curious about the name of someone I helped save?”
Though it hadn’t clicked immediately, the moment their eyes met, she remembered.
This was the man she had found collapsed at the temple during the Founding Festival, the one she had helped by picking up his dropped medicine bottle and giving him his medication. The memory was vivid.
Noticing that he, too, seemed to recall the incident, Aracila smiled brightly at his speechless expression.
“I’m not asking because I expect any reward. I just thought it would be polite to introduce ourselves before having a conversation.”
Her gentle explanation caused the old man’s eyes to waver once more. He looked down at her, hands clasped behind his back, and slowly opened his mouth.
“I’m Howard Londe.”
…Londe?
The surname sounded vaguely familiar, and Aracila tilted her head in thought. As she racked her memory, her eyes gradually widened.
Londe!
It was the family name of Damian’s mother, Duchess Monica Vandemir’s maternal lineage—the Londe earldom.
Rendered speechless, Aracila stared at Howard in a daze. No wonder his rare golden eyes matched Damian’s so closely.
Damian, who took strongly after his father, had inherited only one trait from his mother: those eyes, a mark of the Londe bloodline.
‘But I’m sure Damian said his relationship with his mother’s family was strained…’
She recalled that the Londe earldom deeply resented the Vandemir ducal house, including Damian, for Monica’s death.
This realization made it even harder for Aracila to speak freely.
She needed to ask if he knew Cyan Mondor, but the thought of approaching Damian’s grandfather—who harbored such animosity toward her husband—with the same warmth as before felt daunting.
As the silence stretched on, Howard glanced behind her, his brow furrowing slightly.
“If you’ve nothing to say, I’ll be going.”
Damian had just entered the hall. Knowing he would likely seek out his wife soon, Howard turned away brusquely.
Aracila let him go without so much as a farewell. As Damian approached, he bent slightly to check her dazed expression.
He hadn’t seen her with Howard, as the crowd had obscured his view.
“What are you doing here alone? Marquis Hugo and his wife are over there.”
“…”
“Madam? Is something wrong?”
“…No, Damian.”
Though her response came after a long pause, Aracila managed a smooth smile as she met his gaze.
“It’s nothing. But before we join my parents, I think we should greet the Grand Duchess. I was speaking with her earlier.”
“Is that so? Very well.”
As she placed her hand on the arm Damian offered, Aracila quietly swallowed the encounter with Howard.
The memory of his cold back as he turned away to avoid his only grandson made her decide it was better not to tell Damian.
The Vandemir ducal house had already inflicted enough pain on him. There was no need to add the weight of a family member’s rejection.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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