Chapter 11. The Hunt Will Succeed

Afterward, the two parted without incident.

As if certain they would meet again, Calyx obediently sent Lottie home.

It felt like she had just woken from a dream. Was that man really the Calyx Valdea she knew?

That question tormented Lottie like a mild headache for about two days, but she soon forgot about it completely due to becoming somewhat busy.

The marriage talks between Lottie and Andrew had begun to take concrete shape.

* * *

〈When I return from my busy schedule and gaze at the flickering dawn stars, I’m reminded of your sparkling intellect and pleasant wit, and the deep insight contained within them……〉

Andrew’s letter to Lottie was polite and concise, just like the man himself. There were no passionate declarations of love, but she appreciated that it wasn’t burdensome.

Recently, handwritten letters had been exchanged between her father and Councilman Thompson—Andrew’s father—through her grand-aunt’s arrangement.

The negotiations seemed to be proceeding smoothly, as her grand-aunt’s face was constantly glowing with happiness.

Her grandniece had failed to receive marriage proposals during both her debut seasons at 18 and 19.

In Matila’s marriage market, failing to receive a proposal for three seasons was tantamount to an implicit death sentence.

Lottie, having lived a second life, now suspected that her failure had involved “someone’s” cunning interference, but it wasn’t her grand-aunt.

The older woman must have felt it was her fault as guardian that such a flawless child hadn’t received even a hint of interest.

Perhaps she had also felt miserable wondering how things might have been different if her nephew’s wife were still alive instead of her aged self.

Understanding this sentiment, Lottie couldn’t bring herself to ruin her grand-aunt’s happiness.

‘I’ll go through with this marriage.’

To be precise, it would be her second marriage.

Her first marriage, which had met a miserable end, no longer existed. She had succeeded in changing her future.

Since she hadn’t swallowed that poisoned love, she wouldn’t lose everything to her husband through marriage. This time, she would draft a meticulously fair marriage contract, accounting for every last bill.

Lottie looked down at Andrew’s letter and recalled his past life.

He was a devoted husband who bought pansies for his wife every day, they said.

When his wife’s illness worsened and she was confined to home, he planted so many pansy seedlings in the garden that there was no place to step, ensuring his wife could see her favorite flowers wherever she looked.

Surrounded by her husband’s colorful affection, his wife must have been happy until her dying breath.

Lottie didn’t expect to receive the same undying love that was like the pansies said to bloom year-round on his wife’s grave.

Still, with him, at least she wouldn’t get hurt.

Hers was a scarred life that worried about what she might lose before what she might gain, that thought of unhappiness before happiness.

Pushing aside her guilt about stealing another woman’s pansy-filled happiness, Lottie folded the letter, placed it in the bedside table drawer, and looked out the window.

After turning off the light, she could see a single star blinking blue-white.

Coincidentally, it resembled the scales of light on the Contra River.

* * *

Around the time the flickering dawn star faded dimly.

In a mansion whose rent was among the top three in Ronvernon’s upper-class district, a man who couldn’t easily fall asleep awoke from a light slumber.

Though he had slept uncomfortably seated on a sofa, he showed no signs of it.

The man crossed the empty mansion majestically before any servants had awakened. Then he prepared to go out alone in his bedroom.

— He’s closer to the moderates in the party. He hasn’t shown any notable political moves and doesn’t seem to have much ambition, so the families’ inclinations won’t clash. It’s truly an aristocratic marriage.

A marriage that neither leaned too heavily to one side nor left anyone wanting.

Matila’s nobles called this “aristocratic.”

— If you don’t want that woman to fall into the crown prince’s hands, isn’t this the best outcome? If left alone, she’ll become another man’s woman.

— Even the all-powerful royal family wouldn’t try to take a married woman. That’s a thing of the past.

That day, the man thought for the first time that he had chosen a rather decent helper.

This person controlled the postal business and knew the nobles’ sordid private lives inside out, like a walking gossip magazine.

He had thought the man’s thinking ability was regrettably inferior to his information-gathering skills, but that day he had spoken nothing but sense.

— If you’re still uneasy and think she’ll be an obstacle, kill her. It’s common for virgins of that age to die of unidentified causes.

The man thought it was time to recall his original purpose in approaching that woman.

He wanted to take her away from Patrick. If that woman benefited the crown prince in any way, he wanted to disrupt it.

If what she possessed were wings, he thought it would be good to take even those and make them his own.

There would be no need to fabricate a cause of death and break that woman permanently.

Left alone, the woman would marry another man, and that man would be someone who would never realize they had wings even if given them, forever bound to the ground, while the crown prince would be left to watch helplessly like a dog that had chased chickens.

Therefore, he would simply move his troops as planned and drive out the queen and crown prince.

— What? Are you really planning to marry her? I thought it was just an excuse you made up to deceive Luka Brown and the crown prince.

He remembered being momentarily unable to answer that question.

For him, marriage was a political tool that needed to be kept available at all times to be used most effectively at the most necessary moment.

That fact would remain an immutable truth until he reclaimed his stolen throne, or perhaps until the moment of his death.

— If you need an excuse to stay in the capital without arousing suspicion, go there in four days. Councilman Bermian is hosting a driven hunt on his private property, and as you know, hunting gatherings are packed with unmarried women who come to watch.

They’re there for their own kind of “hunting” too. The helper added this unfunny joke and giggled.

Nobles who owned hunting grounds near the capital held hunting gatherings every year to maintain their connections.

Unlike other social gatherings, hunting events had no restrictions on participation—anyone of appropriate status could join even without an invitation.

Moreover, Councilman Bermian was known as a hardliner in the Cream Party. This was likely a suggestion to naturally increase his influence in the capital, starting with this man who stood almost directly opposed to the crown prince.

— Thompson’s son will also attend, so his fiancée will come too. After the hunt, the fiancée will give Thompson a handkerchief, so go and cheer them on. Tell them to never separate and live happily together until death.

He knew what giving a handkerchief meant. He found himself amused at his own astuteness, knowing such intimate customs despite having been pushed out of the capital long ago.

Lost in thought and dawdling, he suddenly noticed the sunlight shining outside like shards of glass.

He frowned briefly as if sharply stabbed, then gradually relaxed his expression, realizing it was merely sunlight that could do no harm.

Without heat or deceit, it was just transparent light like glass.

Meeting his own eyes dimly reflected in the window, the man let out a laugh.

The man facing him was perfectly dressed for hunting, ready to jump on a horse and rush to the hunting grounds at any moment.

He pulled the bell cord and instructed a servant to prepare a carriage.

Whatever happened, the hunt would succeed.

With that premonition, Calyx Valdea opened the door and stepped out.

* * *

Handing a handkerchief to a man returning from a hunt was, along with taking his arm, a symbolic act declaring an intimate relationship with him.

While the men in hunting attire rode out for the driven hunt, the women gathered in a small house set up at the entrance to the hunting grounds to wait for them.

“There’s nothing to fear, Lottie. What’s meant to happen will happen.”

As Lottie tightly clutched the handkerchief she had received early from Isabelle as if wringing a rag, Isabelle, sitting beside her, spoke soothingly.

Since it was already agreed upon, Andrew would gladly accept the handkerchief when Lottie offered it.

Isabelle spoke thinking her grandniece feared Andrew might not fulfill his promise, but in fact, the grandniece was anxious for reasons she couldn’t possibly imagine.

‘Is this…… right? Really?’

With everything already arranged between the families, what was there to be right or wrong about?

Though she found herself ridiculous, she felt as if she were standing right before a river of no return.

That feeling became clearer as the time for Andrew’s return approached.

‘Let me go outside first. Some fresh air might help clear my complicated thoughts.’

Lottie, who needed to walk aimlessly whenever her thoughts became tangled, gave Isabelle—who was distracted talking with some noble lady—a quick notice before leaving the small house alone.

She circled the small walking path several times, deeply contemplating this lukewarm feeling, but sadly found no answer. Instead, her feet began to hurt.

Lottie slightly lifted her flowing dress hem to look down at her shoes.

Just as she was about to try taking off her shoes, as if entranced, Lottie felt someone watching her.

Turning around, she saw a man, no, a boy hiding behind dense shrubbery. No……

‘It’s a woman…… in men’s clothes!’

The small-framed woman, who seemed to have stolen clothes from her father or older brother, panicked when her eyes met directly with Lottie’s, not knowing what to do.

Perhaps she tripped on her own clothes while trying to flee, as the woman fell forward in front of Lottie with a faint scream. Lottie was momentarily dumbfounded.

“What is this……”

“I’m, I’m sorry!”

The woman, wrapped up like a bundle, suddenly bowed her head. It was an action no pampered young lady would ever do. Lottie soon realized.

“I needed to meet someone urgently. Please, pretend you didn’t see me. I won’t cause any trouble……”