Chapter 82: A Harmonious Family Meal
The Duke deeply regretted not having opposed the Hugo March’s proposal more vehemently from the start. He should have rejected it outright—should never have allowed it. That regret now gnawed at him bitterly. And the same could be said for the Duchess.
She, who had nursed her thirst for revenge with gritted teeth and unwavering resolve, now stroked her husband’s shoulder with a gleam of calculated malice in her eyes.
“My dear, don’t worry so much. This time, it’s bound to work. I’ve prepared everything for it, haven’t I?”
The capital might be out of her reach, but the Duchy of Vandemir was her stronghold. No matter how clever or defiant Aracila might be, it would be difficult for her to prevail here.
“We’ll make it so they can’t help but divorce.”
Her voice dropped to a murmur, cold and eerie.
This time—whether it was Aracila or Damian—she intended to drive them to the point where separation was the only viable option.
No matter what.
***
The ducal manor of Vandemir was nothing short of magnificent—on par with the imperial palace itself in grandeur. Its sheer scale bore testament to the power and legacy of the dukedom.
Even after passing through the main gates, there were two more inner gates to cross before one could even reach the heart of the estate.
Damian was the first to step out of the carriage, extending a hand to escort Aracila. She took it and stepped outside.
But the moment she looked around, she found something odd.
Despite the size of the manor, only a handful of attendants had come out to receive them. Barely half the usual number compared to the staff at the Vandemir townhouse bowed their heads in welcome.
It was too sparse, too subdued—hardly what one would expect for the arrival of honored guests.
‘So, they’re showing their disdain from the start.’
Their arrival date had been shared in advance; it wasn’t as if they had taken anyone by surprise.
The sight of the attendants scrambling awkwardly, as if they’d only just heard the news, was more laughable than insulting. Aracila couldn’t help but let out a quiet, amused snort.
As if she would be intimidated by such a petty tactic.
Damian, on the other hand, seemed unfazed. As if it were all too familiar, he held her hand steadily and guided her inside the manor.
Of the household staff who had traveled with them, only Audrey followed the two of them in. The others set about handling the luggage.
Once inside the central hall, a middle-aged man and woman—likely the butler and head housekeeper—hurried out belatedly and offered stiff bows.
“The Dowager, the Duke and Duchess, and Young Master Oscar will be arriving shortly. Please wait just a moment.”
But despite that “just a moment,” quite a bit of time passed before the ducal family finally made their appearance—leisurely descending the grand staircase as if on their own schedule.
“Oh my, you’ve arrived earlier than expected.”
The Duchess smiled without the slightest trace of apology, despite having made them wait.
Beside her stood the Duke. Next to him, the Dowager. And a step behind followed Oscar.
“Have you both been well?”
The Duchess spread her arms in mock warmth as she approached, briefly placing her hands on Aracila’s shoulders.
“Aracila, I was starting to worry. You haven’t written in so long, I thought you might be unwell.”
It was a subtle rebuke for not checking in with her in-laws, thinly veiled as concern. Aracila blinked once, then smiled sweetly.
“Oh, you were worried about me? I’m fine, no need to worry. But… Damian’s been having wrist pain lately, so I suppose he’s been neglecting the letters.”
Feigning innocence, Aracila answered smoothly, as if she hadn’t understood the underlying dig at all. The Duchess’s mouth twitched, her smile visibly strained.
The Duke, watching all this with clear displeasure, gave a loud, theatrical cough.
“Wrist pain, is it? What nonsense. Just because his business ventures are doing well, now he thinks he can flaunt it in front of his parents.”
“Ah, so it must be from signing too many contracts,” Aracila replied brightly. “I’ll take over more of the signing then, so Damian’s wrist doesn’t get overworked.”
“Hmph.”
The Duke was left speechless by her shamelessly cheerful response. It reminded him too much of her father—the same infuriating, irreverent boldness.
Worse yet, she was the one who had requested the match. That made it all the more galling.
“You’re impossible to reason with! Is that really what I meant by that?!”
Until now, the Dowager had remained silent, but she could no longer contain her fury. Her voice cracked like a whip across the hall.
She had deliberately kept her distance from Aracila after their earlier feud—especially since it had damaged her standing in society. But hearing how the girl spoke to her son… it was intolerable.
Aracila didn’t even flinch. Instead, she calmly let her gaze drop to the Dowager’s legs.
“Oh my, Dowager. Your leg must have healed. That’s wonderful news. Please be careful not to injure it again.”
The memory struck like lightning—the moment the Dowager had broken her leg. She stiffened involuntarily, her face darkening.
Though she’d injured herself while attempting to intimidate Aracila, the words now sounded like a veiled threat.
Do it again, and I’ll make sure you get hurt—just like last time.
Before the Dowager could erupt in fury, Damian stepped in.
“We’re tired from the trip. We’ll go up and rest now. Let’s meet again at dinner.”
He took Aracila’s hand and led her past the ducal family and up the staircase. Though they looked as if they had more to say, he ignored them cleanly.
Just as the pair were about to head to the second floor—where Damian’s room was located—they were stopped by the head housemaid, who had hurried after them.
“A separate room has been prepared for the young madam on the third floor. Please follow me.”
Damian looked down at the woman with eyes as cold as ice. Though he didn’t raise his voice, the animosity radiating from him was unmistakable.
Aracila was quietly surprised—he seemed to resent the head maid as much as he did the rest of his family.
“You prepared a separate room for my wife? Why?”
In noble households, if a shared bedroom hadn’t already been arranged, it was customary to simply have the couple use one of the existing rooms.
Aracila wasn’t an outsider, and since her husband already had a room, there was no real reason for her to be treated like a guest—unless that was the point.
“The young master’s room hasn’t yet been converted into a shared chamber. It might be inconvenient for you both. However, the guest room is always kept clean and ready, so I’ll escort her there.”
The maid offered the explanation calmly, without flinching. But Damian’s expression didn’t ease in the slightest.
He stared her down in visible displeasure, then turned to Aracila, wordlessly asking what she wanted to do.
Aracila paused, thinking for a moment.
‘Hmm… still, a bed is better than a couch, isn’t it?’
In the past, whenever they’d shared a room, they had split the space—him on the sofa, her in the bed.
Since they would be staying here for ten days, it seemed more practical to have separate rooms this time.
Instead of answering aloud, Aracila gently let go of Damian’s hand to show her decision. His fingers twitched faintly at the gesture.
“Get some rest, Damian. I’ll see you later.”
“…Understood. You rest well too, my lady.”
As Aracila smiled and moved to follow the head maid, Damian suddenly reached out and took her fingertips.
“…?”
Perplexed, she turned back—only for Damian to gently lift her hand to his lips and place a kiss on her knuckles, locking eyes with her.
“I’ll miss you, my lady.”
“…Ah, yes. I’ll miss you too. Even though it’s only a short separation, it already feels too long.”
Taken aback by his sudden performance as the doting husband, Aracila was a beat late in responding.
They hadn’t planned this act in advance, but even so, it wasn’t a bad move.
Damian squeezed her hand deliberately, as if for show—clearly for the maid’s benefit—before turning toward the left wing of the second floor.
Aracila, accompanied by Audrey, followed the head maid up to the third floor. Without much ceremony, the maid led them into a guest room and said stiffly:
“This will be your room during your stay, young madam. Please let us know if anything is inconvenient.”
She bowed quickly and turned to leave. As Aracila took in the spacious and neatly kept room, she called out, almost casually:
“Leaving without even introducing yourself?”
“……”
“I don’t even know your name yet.”
At that, the maid paused, then turned back and replied in a polite but dry tone.
“My apologies for the late introduction. I am Melanie, the head maid. Should you need anything, please call on me.”
“Alright.”
“Yes. Please rest for now, and I will return shortly with the maids who will be assigned to serve you during your stay.”
Aracila gave a slight nod, and Melanie exited. Once the door closed and she was alone with Audrey, Aracila opened her handbag.
“Audrey, come here.”
“Yes, my lady.”
From the bag, Aracila took out a necklace adorned with a large diamond and a line of small emeralds along the chain, and handed it to her maid.
“Wear this under your clothes. Then, later on, when you’re around the other maids, casually let it slip out and show it off a bit. Understood?”
Audrey obediently clasped the necklace and tucked it beneath her collar, then asked:
“Why are we doing this?”
“To lure in a greedy maid—so we can buy her off.”
Aracila had no illusions about the type of servants the Vandemir household would assign to her. She didn’t expect honesty or loyalty.
So instead, she would use one of them.
The plan was simple: bribe one of the maids to keep an eye on the estate and help Damian find the will.
“Spread the rumor that I’m surprisingly vain and a little frivolous. Let them think that if they flatter me enough, I’ll shower them with gifts like this necklace. Then keep an eye out for the one who bites hardest—and report back to me.”
“Understood, my lady.”
Audrey, having received a mission for the first time in a while, nodded enthusiastically.
It wasn’t long before Melanie returned with three maids in tow.
“These are the girls who will be serving the young madam. Their names are Olga, Lizzie, and Vicky, in that order.”
“Pleased to serve you, young madam.”
At a glance, the three maids appeared quiet and well-behaved. Of course, whether their dispositions were truly as clean as their appearances was anyone’s guess.
Aracila, expressing a desire to bathe first, had them begin preparations for her bath. Once the three maids left for the bathroom, she quietly slipped out of the room herself.
Ordinarily, when a guest visited a noble estate for the first time, someone should escort them around and offer explanations. But no one here seemed inclined to do that.
So she decided to explore on her own.
She asked Audrey to delay the bath preparations as much as possible and began strolling down the corridor at a leisurely pace.
The layout wasn’t particularly special. She scanned the rooms as she walked, casually opening doors to glance inside.
Most of them, however, were empty.
‘Am I the only one using the third floor?’
She was just beginning to wonder if that had been intentional when she turned a corner to the left—and saw a pair of double doors at the end of the hallway.
‘What kind of room is that?’
As she approached, she noticed something different. Unlike the other rooms, this one had a doorknob made of pure gold.
Her curiosity piqued, Aracila reached out and grabbed the handle to open it.
But all she heard was click, click—the sound of a locked door refusing to budge.
She considered using magic to force it open—but soon gave up on the idea.
The golden handle, paired with a mahogany door… It clearly wasn’t just any ordinary room. It wouldn’t be wise to touch it carelessly.
‘I’ll open it later—when the time is right.’
With that thought, she ended her exploration of the third floor and returned to her room.
Just in time—the bath was ready.
***
By evening, the Vandemir family had gathered in the dining hall.
The Duke took the seat at the head of the table. To his right sat the other members of the ducal household. To his left were Damian and Aracila.
One by one, the dishes began to appear—each tailored meticulously to the taste of the ducal family.
Thankfully, neither Aracila nor Damian had any serious food allergies.
Still, sitting face to face with people she had no desire to see dulled her appetite. But when a plate of expertly grilled meat was placed before her, her mood shifted.
Meat isn’t guilty of anything.
Aracila cut a piece, dipped it in sauce, and raised it toward her mouth—
“By the way, when do you plan to have children?”
The Duchess’s voice sliced through the room, abruptly killing her appetite once more.
Aracila set her fork down.
Across the table, the Duke and Dowager were staring at her like circling hyenas, their eyes sharp and expectant.
There was no mistaking the tone—it wasn’t an innocent question, but a calculated provocation.
Aracila gave a measured response.
“We’re both still young, so we don’t have any plans yet.”
“Oh dear. Do you think you’ll stay young forever? Especially women—age catches up quickly. You should prepare sooner rather than later.”
The Duchess’s eyes curved in mock sweetness.
Truthfully, she didn’t mind if they had a child. There was no better way to control a woman than through motherhood—a child was the perfect vulnerability.
And while her mention of children was meant to apply pressure, she wouldn’t complain if it actually happened.
“Yes, best to have one soon. That way, she’ll quit that damned Mage Tower and finally devote herself to the household.”
The Dowager clucked her tongue in thinly veiled disapproval.
Aracila closed her eyes for a brief moment. The same old refrain—it always returned eventually, like some cursed family lullaby.
She began to wonder if there was a way to silence them all at once. But before she could speak, Damian set down his glass after taking a sip of water and replied:
“There’s no rush, is there? It’s not like I’ll be having a child with another woman.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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