DYPIOOP Chapter 18

The Difference Between Loveliness and Passion

It took time to register his embrace.

"...?!"

When she realized, she was sitting on Carvel's lap.

"Is this how you wanted to see it?"

He calmly showed Elonia the documents in her line of sight and turned the pages. Flustered, she trembled and said:

"I-it was an accident. I didn't sit here on purpose. You know that, right?"

Mortified, Elonia quickly—shuffle shuffle—settled into the seat beside him. If she stood again, she couldn't predict what her sense of balance might do. Elonia rapidly tidied her disheveled hair and hastily straightened her dress. Unlike her, Carvel was far too calm. If he'd just keep his mouth shut, she could achieve mental victory by pretending it had all been a dream. But Carvel's cursed mouth didn't miss this opportunity.

"I told you it's fine to collapse, so you're practicing."

"It was a mistake!"

"It's all right, you did splendidly."

Before she could say anything, Carvel continued quite naturally:

"Though in the future when you pretend to faint, you should release your strength a bit more effectively to make it convincing."

He was deliberately ignoring what she'd already said. Taking a deep breath, Elonia composed herself. At least thanks to that, quite a few people at the ball had come to believe she was a spirit mage. Money and a stable retirement. A hopeful future! Steeling herself with these thoughts, Elonia managed to speak calmly.

"Give me the list."

Carvel handed over the documents without a word. She glared at him half-heartedly, but it wouldn't work on someone so shameless. He watched Elonia reviewing the list with a beaming smile for quite some time. Her earlier thought that his mood had settled must have been entirely mistaken. Of course. Elonia clicked her tongue softly while absorbing the list, then dozed off—perhaps from being on edge all day. The quiet carriage filled only with her steady sleeping breaths. Carvel carefully extracted the list dangling precariously from her hand. Whenever the carriage jostled, Elonia's head swayed unsteadily.

"Mmm..."

With a small sleep-murmur, Elonia's head tilted. Swaying left and right without direction, it finally dropped—thud—weakly onto his shoulder. Simultaneously, a refreshing scent made Carvel's head feel light. He'd merely steadied her briefly when she'd wavered, yet in that instant, the intense Lyatico perfume that had clung throughout the ball vanished completely. Carvel glanced sideways, gazing intently at her leaning against his shoulder. The clear, refreshing feeling that started from Elonia slowly filled the carriage. Thanks to this, the headache that invariably accompanied such events had long since ceased.

'How strange. Just being near her brings such comfort.'

Carvel lightly poked the cheek of Elonia, still wandering through dreams.

Elonia glared at the strange pattern carved into the ceiling while listening to birds chirping outside. Judging by how comfortable her body felt, she definitely wasn't wearing the ball gown. Still lying down, she murmured quietly:

"Amy."

"Yes, my lady!"

Her vigorous voice suggested she'd been waiting nearby. Still under the covers, Elonia asked:

"How did I get back from the ball yesterday?"

"You fell asleep in the carriage on the way home... We changed your clothes since you'd be uncomfortable. I'm sorry."

"No, thank you."

No wonder she couldn't remember. Elonia—ugh—sat up. Amy quietly supported her and asked:

"Shall I bring breakfast, or would you like me to deliver the letter that arrived first?"

"Letter?"

"Countess Fellan sent it."

After mentioning the tea party invitation repeatedly, she must have sent the invitation the moment she returned. Right. Money must be earned. Elonia stretched her body, sore from yesterday's dancing. She recalled the guest list she'd barely glimpsed. She hadn't been in a state to properly absorb it, so she couldn't even remember.

"Was there any paperwork I was looking at in the carriage?"

"Paperwork? There wasn't any."

Amy thought carefully once more, then shook her head with certainty.

'Did Carvel take it back?'

Just when she'd hoped to avoid seeing his face today. Elonia had no choice but to leave her cozy bed. After quickly preparing, she stood in one stride before his study. She'd even efficiently brought along the case containing the water droplet sapphire necklace he'd left behind. The head butler knocked—tap tap—and announced her arrival. After a brief pause, his voice came through:

"Come in."

Elonia took a deep breath, trying not to recall what had happened in the carriage yesterday. He'd always come to her; this was the first time she'd gone to him directly. Given how vast the Haelton ducal estate was, and how limited her range of movement, this was her first time in the study. The massive mahogany door opened soundlessly. The moment she entered the study, her resolve crumbled.

"You're early."

"It's already past noon, hardly early, wouldn't you say?"

"After my fiancée pounced on me in the carriage then fell asleep, this side had a difficult time."

Who pounced on whom?! As he made his pronouncement, her eyes met the head butler Paol's as he was closing the door. Though advanced in years, he somehow gave an oddly sly impression. He smoothly swept his neatly combed hair with one palm, then grinned—grin—and said:

"Have a pleasant time."

Thunk. The door closed before she could explain. Elonia stared at the closed door with an incredulous expression, then strode toward the desk where Carvel sat.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

"I didn't say anything untrue."

"How about we try being careful with our word choices?"

Despite Elonia's gentle coaxing, he answered firmly:

"Don't want to."

Mmm... When she became friends with Nyx, the very first thing she'd do was shake down every last bit of Carvel's soul. Then she'd spread it to everyone with the loosest lips. If there were any naked childhood portraits, she'd tie them to fireworks and launch them across the imperial capital's skies. Since she'd recently become rather close with Nyx, she consoled herself that the day wasn't far off. Elonia held out the necklace case Countess Fellan had sent, ready to negotiate with the man she currently couldn't defeat.

He'd been leaning back comfortably in his chair, but straightened his posture at the familiar case.

"I told you it's unnecessary."

"Then shall I decline Countess Fellan's tea party invitation?"

She set the case on the desk while subtly displaying the invitation. She waved the envelope bearing Count Fellan's family name conspicuously before him.

'She wanted to go badly enough to ask directly—will you really refuse? Really?'

She held her neck stiffly upright with exaggerated arrogance. Carvel crossed his arms on the desk, leaning forward as he answered:

"That expression is quite interesting."

"See? Even Carvel dislikes this, right? If you knew how much patience I've been cultivating, even a 100% commission wouldn't be enough."

"Makes me really want to return that necklace."

"How does it lead to that?"

Does this man have no concept of self-reflection or introspection? Elonia examined him with the same feeling she'd had upon first seeing spirits. But Carvel answered nonchalantly:

"Just get me a letter of introduction to the seller. Then I'll pay the amount you desire immediately."

"One more thing."

Having gained the upper hand, Elonia slipped in one additional condition.

"Weren't we supposed to be a loving couple?"

"Right. What's the problem?"

"I'm wondering if that setting briefly shifted to passionate melodrama today."

She pointed directly to what he'd said in front of the head butler. Strictly speaking, that carriage incident was an accident, and Elonia had already forgotten it. Wasn't it the kind of incident that didn't need to be mentioned aloud? But Carvel seemed completely unaware of any problem.

"I don't recall using the word 'passionate' anywhere."

"You said it earlier where the head butler could hear. That I poun... poun..."

To have to say this with her own mouth. Elonia's lips wouldn't move. Finally fumbling past it, she stated her position firmly once more:

"Anyway, please stick to our original arrangement. People will misunderstand."

Phew. Elonia mentally wiped away cold sweat. For some reason, Carvel nodded obediently.

"I'll be mindful."

Giving him jewelry must have softened his mood. People naturally become magnanimous when doing things they enjoy. Proud that she'd finally gotten through to him after so long:

"Good. Oh, and Her Highness Aselir called you by your first name—what's your relationship?"

"Why, are you jealous?"

Oh, honestly. What is he even saying? Did she sleep poorly? Now she's hearing things. Elonia stepped back as if looking at a strange person and said:

"That wasn't in the information you sent. From what I saw, you don't call everyone by their first names either."

He'd openly called her Lady Devney, after all. She too knew how to distinguish between using names and family titles. If it were anyone else, fine, but with an imperial family member, one mistake could lead to her being framed as a fake spirit mage. This was a matter requiring utmost caution; such gaps were unwelcome. Elonia added an explanation in case he misunderstood:

"I was going to ask yesterday. I just waited because you seemed in a bad mood in the carriage."

"Ah... That was because the perfume was so strong."

At this, Carvel casually tossed out his answer:

"She requested a marriage alliance."

"Yes. Her Highness Aselir requested a marriage... a marriage alliance?"

Nodding along mindlessly to his words, Elonia's jaw dropped. The Empress from the Haelton ducal family had died not long after the current Imperial Consort entered the palace. To send a marriage proposal from that relationship—such audacity.

'What kind of crumb-trail nonsense is this?'

The two things you should never interfere with in the world: lovers' quarrels and family disputes. Yet she'd been thrown into a whirlpool combining both. The one fortunate point was "requested"—past tense. As if reading her thoughts, Carvel shrugged and continued:

"I refused. That's all there is to it."

"Don't tell me the perfect Her Highness Aselir, though it's unbelievable, in various ways toward you..."

"She simply chose me to show those who prattle about imperial tradition. There's no other reason."

Having finished his concise explanation, he frowned slightly and asked again:

"But why is it unbelievable?"

Elonia could only smile bitterly. She knew he possessed tremendous pride and confidence in himself, but it seemed to grow worse with each passing day. Instead of answering, she simply smiled appropriately while edging toward the door.

"Then I'll take my leave. I should write a response."

"Elonia."

"No, no. It looks good on you. Life should be lived with confidence. Go for it!"

With that encouragement, she left the study at top speed.