Chapter 16. A Bug, or Not?
“You called for me, so here I am. But you don’t look particularly pleased to see me.”
“Hold your tongue.”
A low voice, brimming with threat, burst from Duke Orphe, Bashirov. It was clear he was fuming.
“Is what I read in the papers true? About the woman from Rubelsa?”
A sharp gleam lit up his violet eyes. Duke Orphe, with golden-blond hair a shade darker than Damion’s and the same purple eyes, was his son’s mirror.
His elder son, Cardian, took after their mother, with soft honey-blonde hair and golden eyes. One could say the brothers had inherited their parents’ traits evenly.
Damion, amused by his father’s barely-concealed curiosity, replied with a slight smile.
“Wow. I didn’t know even Your Grace subscribes to Morning Noblesse.”
“Just answer the question.”
“It’s exactly as the gossip column said.”
“You little—!”
The duke leapt to his feet. He strode toward Damion, seething with rage.
“Rubelsa? How dare you associate that wretched house with the name of Orphe?”
“You’re already this worked up over a mere romance. I’m worried you might faint when the wedding comes.”
Damion’s reply, calm and detached as though this was someone else’s affair, only deepened the scowl on the duke’s face.
“You mean you’re seriously considering marriage?”
“Don’t like it? I thought you didn’t want a spouse whose family would affect my political standing, so I carefully selected someone suitable.”
There was a mocking lilt in Damion’s voice that made Bashirov’s insides churn with fury.
Unable to contain himself, Bashirov raised his hand high.
“Father, please stop.”
A quiet voice intervened. Damion’s dry gaze shifted toward Cardian’s back.
Cardian hadn’t even turned to look. Calmly cutting into his food, he spoke in a soft tone.
“It’s not just the family watching Damion now. If he shows up in public with a bruised face from our estate, what do you think people will say? Don’t you agree, Becky?”
His wife, Becky, nodded in agreement. She rose from her seat and walked over to the duke.
“Please don’t be so angry, Father.”
Soothed by his daughter-in-law’s gentle persuasion, the duke begrudgingly returned to his seat at the table.
Cardian glanced sidelong at Damion.
“So, is it cheap pity? Or are you playing around?”
“Neither. Unlike you, I don’t have a hobby of playing with toys.”
There was a bite to his words. Cardian smirked.
“Toys? You sound like a child.”
“So, how do you like the new Emperor? Suits your taste?”
“He’s someone I serve with utmost loyalty. I’d appreciate it if you refrained from irreverent remarks.”
“I hear the revolutionaries grow bolder by the day. As someone close to His Majesty, you’d do well to be cautious.”
“Thanks for your concern.”
Cardian gave a faint smile. Damion mirrored it, then bowed politely to the duke and duchess.
“I hope you enjoy your lunch.”
As his footsteps faded into the distance, Cardian resumed his meal. The meat had gone cold during the exchange.
“Bring me a fresh plate.”
At his soft request, the head chef hurried to bring out another perfectly grilled serving.
When he’d finished eating, Cardian quietly returned to his room. The newspaper he’d been reading that morning lay atop a table.
Sinking deep into the sofa, Cardian lowered his gaze to the spread.
The headline read: The statue of the Emperor in the square was destroyed by revolutionaries, who were swiftly apprehended and await execution.
“Crawling vermin, all of them. What’s the point in struggling...”
He murmured the words as though lamenting the futility of it all. His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest; his indifferent gaze fixed on nothing in particular.
Ansi de Rubelsa.
The woman clinging to Damion—was she a bug, or not?
The question stirred a spark of curiosity within him.
And with that flicker of interest, Cardian decided: he would take his beloved younger brother’s side and support the marriage.
Spring Hall in the capital hosted one of the city’s most prestigious art exhibitions, held every year in spring. People gathered not only to purchase artworks but also to forge connections and alliances.
Yet Henet found himself unable to focus on the artwork, thanks to a certain bombshell of a revelation he’d recently received.
“What are you thinking? Rubelsa? You think there’s anything to gain from her?”
“Yeah.”
Damion’s answer was disarmingly simple. But no matter how Henet looked at it, it just didn’t add up. What possible benefit could that woman offer? It was obvious to anyone—Damion was the one losing out here.
“Don’t tell me... you’re planning to take her to the Benue River too?”
“Who knows?”
What?! Who knows?
Henet’s jaw practically dropped.
At the end of April, the Benue River in the capital hosted a traditional boating event. A man and a woman would ride a small boat together and enjoy the scenery.
Although some attended with family or siblings, it was widely recognized as an event for couples. If a young man and woman rode together, it was an implicit declaration that they were romantically involved.
The ball at the Baelis estate could have been brushed off as a one-time partner thing, but if they went boating together, that would send a serious signal.
“Henet, what about you?”
Without looking away from the still life painting of a clock, Damion suddenly asked.
Henet pouted her lips.
“I broke up with Lenny recently. Someone kept pretending to be my lover, spreading nonsense.”
“Then why not go with Miss Helsia?”
“Don’t say such ridiculous things. I’m already upset just knowing Helsia is riding with some worthless nobody. Do you understand how frustrating it is to want to keep an eye on her but be unable to?”
“There’s a ball at the Grand Light Hall tonight. Find yourself a partner there.”
“All the women gathering there are looking for a marriage prospect. I don’t want to give false hope when I have no interest.”
How stubborn. Damion softened his tone as he replied indifferently.
“Oh? How warm of you. Then it’s fine as long as it’s someone you don’t mind hurting. How about riding with a woman who claims to be your lover?”
Henet’s eyes widened at the casual suggestion.
“Shall we really do that?”
“Prepare yourself. She might not even be a woman.”
“Be careful not to get rejected by the young lady of the Rubelsa family. Shouldn’t you have come here with her today?”
“Why?”
“The exhibition is a great place for a date.”
“It’s also a good investment opportunity.”
“Well, aren’t you impressive?”
But Henet couldn’t retort. Some paintings Damion bought at last winter’s exhibition had appreciated twentyfold in value.
“Wouldn’t it be better to combine dating and investing?”
“She’s not a woman who enjoys crowded places.”
So, most likely, she didn’t come.
While thinking this, Damion carefully moved forward, casting glances around the hall.
Ansi wasn’t there.
Instead, his eyes caught sight of a painting.
A large canvas with white dots scattered over a black background.
It looked like a night sky, but it wasn’t particularly special. The painting didn’t attract much attention. The fact that it was hung inside the hall rather than the main gallery further proved this.
Damion stepped closer. Up close, the painting’s grand scale was overwhelming. A faint smile of satisfaction passed over his face.
He casually raised his hand to call a staff member.
“I’ll take it.”
A “Sold” tag was immediately placed beside the painting. Hennet shrugged, unsure.
“Do you really think it’s a good investment?”
“I’m not buying it to sell.”
“Really? What do you like about it?”
“Personal reasons.”
Squinting slightly at the painting, Hennet finally shook her head.
“I prefer brighter paintings. If you’re going to stay here, I’m leaving.”
Without waiting for an answer, she walked away. Damion remained, studying the dark sky a little longer.
How dreary it would look hanging in the mansion.
Still, he was certain that the woman would like this painting.
“Damion?”
Then came a soft, clear voice calling him. Damion slid his gaze sideways.
There stood Ansi de Rubelsa.
“You should have come with me, Ansi.”
“You’re right.”
Ansi turned to look at the painting.
Her blue eyes rolled like glass beads, tracing the horizon of the sky before settling in the center. Her lips, translucent yet tinged with red, parted slightly.
And from them came a small exclamation.
Damion felt like a child who had just guessed the right answer.
“I like it. Maybe the best in this entire hall. It looks as if it was painted carelessly, but it’s clearly a carefully crafted work.”
“Why do you say that?”
The brush strokes weren’t particularly delicate, and the color combinations weren’t especially subtle.
Since the canvas was large, it must have taken a lot of materials and time—was that what she meant by ‘carefully crafted’? Damion wondered what her definition of care might be, then waited for her answer.
“It’s accurate. The arrangement of the stars.”
It was an answer he hadn’t expected. Damion looked back at the painting. The unusually large and bright stars connected in a pattern.
“Boötes.”
“You remember?”
Ansi’s face lit up with pleasure. A liveliness unseen before shimmered in her blue eyes.
Was she really a woman who could make such a face?
“It’s a painting from spring. The bright stars Arcturus in Boötes, Spica in Virgo, and Denebola in Leo form a triangle. And in front of Boötes...”
She continued calmly, though her slightly flushed cheeks betrayed her excitement.
For a moment, Damion felt his heart drop like a stone.
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