Chapter 109: An Uncomfortable Encounter
Damian let out a soft chuckle and called for Audrey to prepare for tea.
With the help of another maid, Aracila changed into fresh clothes and, by her third time being carried, nestled comfortably into Damian’s arms. To her own surprise, she felt no resistance to it. If it had been anyone else, she might have preferred to stay in bed, which only deepened her sense of wonder.
As they stepped into the garden, Aracila took a deep breath. The air filtering through an open window was nothing compared to the real thing—feeling the breeze directly on her skin was a different experience altogether. The sweet scent of autumn blooms brushed pleasantly against her nose.
Beneath a pergola draped with climbing roses, a table awaited, adorned with tempting desserts and fragrant tea. Damian gently set Aracila down on a cushioned chair and poured her tea with his own hands.
“Damian, aren’t you suspiciously good at playing the servant?” Aracila teased, narrowing her eyes playfully. His attentiveness was almost too perfect.
For a man who seemed born to command and be revered, it was remarkable how he’d been tending to her without a hint of complaint for days.
“I suppose I have a knack for it,” he replied.
“Really? Well, when you retire from knighthood, come work for me. I’ll make sure to pay you generously.”
“I’ll keep that in mind and come find you.”
A shared smile bloomed on their lips, warm and easy.
The time spent sipping tea across from each other was tranquil. A gentle breeze cooled the air, and the sunlight bathed them in warmth. They chatted without pause, savoring a rare moment of leisure.
That was when Audrey approached, relaying a message whispered to her by another maid.
“Madam, Lady Hayden and His Highness the Crown Prince have come to visit.”
“Paula and Frederick?” Aracila’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.
She had deliberately kept news of her injury from her friends. She didn’t want to make a fuss, and she preferred to handle the matter quietly until the culprit was identified, without interfering with the investigation.
So how had they found out and come to visit?
Could Frederick have heard about the beast-slaying report?
The report to the royal family would have included details of her injury. If Frederick had learned of it, he might have told Paula, and in their concern, they could have come without warning.
Uncertain about turning away friends who’d gone out of their way to visit, Aracila cautiously turned to Damian.
“Damian, is it all right if we have them join us here? If it’s uncomfortable, you can go attend to your business.”
“No, I’m fine. Call them over,” Damian replied firmly.
He was in the midst of investigating Frederick as a possible mastermind behind the assassination attempt. Seeing him in person might offer clues through his reactions. Besides, with Frederick present, Damian couldn’t leave Aracila alone, even if Paula were the only visitor.
Aracila instructed Audrey to bring the two to the garden.
Moments later, Paula and Frederick appeared at the garden’s entrance.
“Aracila! Are you okay?” Paula rushed over, her voice brimming with worry as she looked her friend over.
“I’m fine. It’s not that serious,” Aracila reassured her.
“Not serious? You broke an arm and a leg,” Paula retorted, her tone gently scolding.
She then turned to Damian, offering a quick bow.
“Hello, Sir Vandemir. I’m sorry for showing up so suddenly. We were just too worried about Aracila to wait.”
“It’s all right. Please, sit and talk,” Damian said, gesturing to the chairs the maids had brought.
His gaze shifted past Paula to Frederick, who stood behind her. Rising slowly, Damian greeted him formally.
“I greet Your Highness, the Crown Prince.”
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Sir? Since the wedding, I believe?” Frederick said with a casual air, conveniently ignoring their more recent encounter at the mage tower’s founding ceremony.
Damian’s expression remained impassive as he replied, “Yes, it’s been some time.”
The echo of his own words seemed to irk Frederick, whose lips twitched slightly.
But he quickly turned to Aracila with a warm smile.
“Aracila, I was so worried about you. I couldn’t help but blame myself for letting you join the beast-slaying mission.”
“No, don’t feel bad. It’s not your fault—I wanted to go,” Aracila said, brushing off his concern.
“Still, it hurts to see someone as dear as you come back injured,” Frederick replied, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
Damian’s brow twitched. The sight of another man so casually touching his wife and tossing around saccharine words like “dear” was far from pleasant.
“Please, both of you, have a seat,” Damian said, deliberately moving his teacup closer to Aracila’s side.
Paula, picking up on the cue, sat across from Aracila, leaving Frederick to take the seat opposite Damian.
Thus began their uneasy tea time.
“So, how did this happen?” Paula asked after a sip of tea, her curiosity evident. She didn’t know the specifics of Aracila’s injury.
“Well, we went after what we thought was a high-grade beast, but there was a top-tier one there too,” Aracila explained vaguely.
“So you got hurt because of the beast?”
Aracila offered a noncommittal smile and sipped her tea. There was no need to tell her friends about the assassination attempt on Damian.
Unaware of the full story, Paula patted her friend’s shoulder.
“Wow, talk about bad luck. But at least you only got hurt this much because Sir Vandemir was there to protect you, right?”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Frederick interjected, a strange smile playing on his lips.
All eyes turned to him.
“If he’d truly protected her, she wouldn’t have come back injured at all,” he continued.
“Uh, Frederick…” Paula stammered, caught off guard.
Ignoring her, Frederick pressed on.
“I can’t help but wonder if Sir Vandemir really did his job protecting Aracila. What exactly was he doing while she was getting hurt?”
The sharp question sent a chill through the air.
Aracila’s brow furrowed slightly as she cut in.
“He was doing his job, obviously. Let me be clear: my injury has nothing to do with Damian, so don’t say things like that.”
“I’m not trying to accuse anyone, Aracila. I’m just curious. If it were me, I’d have dropped everything to keep you safe. I wonder what he was up to,” Frederick said, his voice smooth but laced with a razor’s edge.
He cast a cold glance at Damian, who had been silent until now. Finally, Damian spoke.
“I’ve already explained what I was doing to my family. As a husband, I see no need to justify myself to my wife’s friends,” Damian said coolly.
By invoking the unassailable bond of family, he drew a clear line that Frederick, a mere friend, could never cross.
Frederick’s expression hardened subtly. Being relegated to “just a friend” while Damian claimed the role of husband stung his pride.
Despite Frederick’s obvious irritation, Damian didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze head-on without so much as a blink.
“Ha, well, I suppose that’s true. We’re just Aracila’s friends, not family,” Paula interjected, attempting to defuse the tension.
Her effort fell flat as Frederick, still locking eyes with Damian, pressed on.
“But we’re not just friends, are we? Aracila and I share a wealth of memories, a history so deep and long you couldn’t possibly imagine.”
He flashed a smug smile, pulling the corners of his mouth upward with deliberate flourish.
“Indeed,” Damian replied, his tone surprisingly calm, defying Frederick’s hope of provoking jealousy or insecurity.
After a moment, Damian’s lips curved into a serene smile, and he continued with unruffled composure.
“I only hope my wife can maintain her cherished friendship with both of you for years to come.”
“Are you sincere?” Frederick asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.
“Yes. I’m not so petty as to be jealous over mere friendship,” Damian replied.
The phrase mere friendship struck a nerve, and Frederick opened his mouth to retort, but Damian didn’t give him the chance.
“After all, neither of you has been romantically involved with my wife, so what’s there to worry about? In any case, the time we spend together as husband and wife is steadily building.”
With that, Damian drove the final wedge, implying that no matter how many years of friendship they shared, it could never rival the bond of marriage.
“…Ha!”
Frederick let out a low, incredulous scoff. Though he maintained a composed facade, his irritation was palpable.
Damian Vandemir, how dare you steal what’s mine and act so smug.
Sparks seemed to fly between the two men as their gazes clashed, unyielding.
Paula fidgeted, glancing nervously between them, while Aracila let out a soft sigh and set down her teacup.
It was clear the tea time couldn’t continue like this.
“Sorry, guys, I’m feeling tired. Could you head out for now? I’ll reach out later,” she said, swiftly bringing the gathering to a close and sending Paula and Frederick on their way.
Out of consideration for the recovering Aracila, Damian escorted the two to the door in her place.
As they reached the entrance, Paula suddenly rummaged through her handbag.
“Oh, I almost forgot—I brought a get-well gift for Aracila. Is it okay if I run back and give it to her?”
“Of course, go ahead,” Damian replied.
“Thank you! I’ll be quick!” Paula said, hurrying back toward the garden.
At the main entrance, only Damian and Frederick remained. The lingering tension from the tea time hung heavily between them, an uncomfortable silence settling in. Frederick was the first to break it.
“If your situation is so dangerous that it puts those around you at risk, you might want to be more careful,” he said, staring straight ahead.
Damian turned to look at him. Raising his chin, Frederick continued his reprimand.
“I heard the assassination attempt was aimed at you. If you knew you couldn’t protect her, you shouldn’t have brought Aracila along in the first place.”
“I appreciate the advice, but I’ll handle matters concerning my wife myself,” Damian shot back, his face expressionless.
Frederick’s brow twitched at the curt response. A flicker of hostility gleamed in his crimson eyes.
Damian, undeterred, turned to face him squarely.
“I heard one of the high-ranking imperial officials recommended the Red Hawk Knights for the western beast-slaying mission. Does Your Highness know who that might be?”
The pointed question was a deliberate probe. If Frederick reacted, it would heighten suspicions of his involvement in the assassination plot.
Frederick gave a faint, enigmatic smile and shrugged.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Do you have any other information regarding the beast-slaying mission?”
“Not really. I wasn’t particularly interested until Aracila asked for permission to join,” Frederick replied smoothly, brushing a hand across his mouth.
The polished response wasn’t what Damian had expected, yet it only deepened his unease. For the Crown Prince to be so indifferent about the appearance of high-grade beasts in the empire’s west seemed oddly out of character.
Frederick, catching Damian’s lingering suspicion, let out a short laugh and stepped closer, gripping his shoulder.
“Don’t worry too much, Sir Vandemir. The Imperial Knights are launching a full investigation into this incident.”
“What do you mean…?”
“I hope they catch and punish the culprit soon.”
Frederick flashed a disarming smile, patted Damian’s shoulder, and stepped back.
Caught off guard by this new information, Damian narrowed his eyes, about to press further, when Paula returned from delivering her gift to Aracila.
Frederick glanced at her, then turned away as if he had no intention of continuing the conversation.
“We’ve imposed enough for today. Farewell, Sir Vandemir.”
“…Safe travels,” Damian replied, nodding politely to Paula while his gaze remained fixed on Frederick.
An inexplicable sense of unease gnawed at him, a foreboding feeling he couldn’t shake.
When Damian returned to the bedroom, Aracila looked utterly exhausted.
All she’d done was enjoy tea in the garden, yet she seemed drained.
As he gently set her down on the bed, Damian closed the window.
Aracila sank into the soft bedding, muttering under her breath.
“Only my right leg is injured, but not being able to use either feels like my left leg’s wasting away too.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, I barely move, so sometimes my left leg feels stiff.”
Her petulant tone brought a faint smile to Damian’s lips as he pulled a chair to the bedside and sat down.
“Then let me massage it for you.”
“My leg? Are you serious?”
Instead of answering, Damian rolled up his sleeves and carefully took hold of her left ankle. His large, steady hands pressed gently but firmly, working their way up from her anklebone.
“Isn’t tending to my lady’s comfort part of a servant’s duty?” he said lightly.
Aracila, who hadn’t expected a leg massage from him of all things, was momentarily stunned but soon smiled at the soothing sensation.
As she watched his handsome face, focused on kneading her slender calf, she suddenly spoke up.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
buy me a coffee here to support the translation 🤗🤗🤗
