IDIBC Chapter 48

Duke’s Dinner Table

It was rather aggressive language to use toward one’s mother. The Duke, who had been merely observing the conversation between the Duchess and her son until now, set down his cutlery with a slight clatter.

“Ricardo.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Your mother only did what she ought to do as a mother.”

“Are you referring to the act of dressing her in an ill-fitting dress and sending her alone into that vulgar ballroom?”

The Duke’s face visibly hardened with gravity. However, he simply stared at Ricardo without saying a word.

My heart sank when I realized what filled that gaze was not anger but loneliness. Afterward, only the sound of breathing filled the dinner table, and even the candles flickered precariously.

I poked at the food on my plate with my fork and quietly called out to Ricardo.

“Young master.”

Even though I love you so much, I can’t take your side this time, I thought. It seemed clear that he was the notorious villain of this dinner table.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’d like to clear it up.”

His cool gaze slowly turned toward me. I steadied my breathing and carefully chose my words.

“I didn’t go to that ballroom alone. Countess Corhena accompanied me. The reason I was alone when you saw me was because the Countess had briefly left my side to look for you.”

Fortunately, the irredeemable villain added nothing further to my quietly continued explanation.

“And I was the one who begged to go, not even knowing whether that ball was so vulgar.”

When the Duchess tried to deny it and explain, the Duke gently grasped her arm to stop her.

“And this is the part you’ve most misunderstood.”

Apart from Ricardo’s long eyes narrowing slightly more, there was no particular change in his expression. I straightened my back and squared my shoulders to avoid being intimidated by his indifferent gaze.

Then I met his eyes directly and smiled—with silent pressure telling him to please shut that hellish mouth of his.

“That dress really suited me well.”

“…….”

“Angela said so, and everyone else said so too.”

Ricardo’s brow briefly furrowed.

“Who’s Angela?”

“My maid.”

From across the table came the sound of the Duke stifling laughter, but I raised my chin higher and spoke in the most ladylike manner I could manage.

“So from now on, I’ll handle my own affairs. I’ll choose my dresses reflecting my own wishes, just as you said.”

While looking at me with an indescribably cold expression, the notorious villain of the table fortunately added no further words.

The meal continued quietly after that.

As the time when even the water in the glasses was tinted with soft sunset light passed, the interior grew somewhat darker. The soft lighting illuminating the table shone all the brighter for it.

A red light so deep you could believe it was painted with dissolved pigment covered the sky until the very end, reminding us that today was completely drawing to a close.

Of course, even that gentle and warm atmosphere couldn’t help this already coldly frozen dinner table.

As the meal was nearly finishing, a cake laden with figs appeared for dessert. Ricardo’s brow creased slightly at the sight of it.

Sure enough, as soon as dessert was served, he casually pushed the cake plate from in front of him toward me. It was likely an action simply because he disliked having it in front of him, but I let out a deep sigh, pulled the cake closer to me, and began picking off the figs on top.

I realized later that what I had done was a kind of habit.

During the time I lived at Count Fennel’s house, figs weren’t a fruit we could see often. They were difficult to store, so we could only occasionally eat dried ones.

On the rare occasions when we could eat fresh figs, Ricardo would give them to me. I liked them and he hated them.

Then suddenly, my eyes met directly with the Duchess, who was picking figs off the Duke of Rochester’s plate.

An awkward silence flowed for a moment. However, the Duke and Ricardo, not having seen this situation, pulled their fig-free cakes toward themselves as if it were natural. I smiled awkwardly at their remarkably similar behavior, enough to make one laugh.

“The Duke and the young master have very similar tastes. The young master doesn’t eat figs. He says they taste fishy.”

“…….”

“How can figs taste fishy, does that make sense? Ah, hahaha.”

As if I’d made some funny joke, I spoke and laughed alone, then buried my nose back in my plate.

“……What else?”

But at the low voice that reached me, my gaze moved involuntarily. The owner of that voice was none other than Duke Rochester.

“Pardon?”

“What else does he dislike?”

He, who until now hadn’t spared a single glance toward Ricardo, was asking me with a genuinely curious expression. What else does my son dislike?

Though it seemed like a casual attitude at first glance, I read the tenderness in those eyes.

In fact, I had recently completely ruled out the possibility that the ducal couple had deliberately abandoned Ricardo in the principality. Their eyes were not those of the ones who abandoned, but of the abandoned. It wouldn’t make sense for me, who had been endlessly abandoned in childhood, not to recognize that.

I glanced at him briefly, but since he didn’t seem particularly concerned with what I was doing, I carefully retraced his childhood.

‘What did Ricardo like?’

Without needing to dig through memories for long, the answer came surprisingly easily. When it came to his childhood, no one would know better than I.

“He preferred gloomy weather over bright sunny days. That’s rather strange too, isn’t it? Resotia is generally overcast. Though it’s a desert region, that was 1000 years ago.”

Though no one answered, I could tell that for the first time, proper conversation was flowing at this table. The ducal couple’s eyes lit up as they waited for my next words.

“There’s only one month when heavy rain falls in Resotia. During that time, the young master wouldn’t stay in his room for even a moment. He would sit in front of the largest window on the first floor of the east building—that is, the building where the young master stayed—and draw pictures.”

“Pictures……”

At this first-heard story of their son, they wore the faces of ordinary parents.

Like parents watching their first child take their first steps, with flushed expressions they shared in the childhood of their son that they’d never heard from anyone—stories of a past that even the person in question couldn’t remember.

“He didn’t really like fruit. Especially grapes. But he would eat somewhat unripe apples that tasted quite sour. It would have been good if he ate other things too, but he really wouldn’t listen.”

The Duchess, whose eyes had widened in surprise, soon let out a somewhat hollow laugh.

“Yes. Figs and grapes too—I always try to urge him, but he won’t listen. The Duke as well.”

“Ah…… So that’s similar too.”

Just from talking about it, the image of Ricardo eating apples came to mind, and saliva naturally pooled in my mouth.

Swallowing and wetting my lips, I continued speaking slowly. Recalling our difficult childhood had been taboo for me as well until now. I carefully chose my words, one by one, with the mindset of finding something whole among completely rotten apples.

“Rather than going outside and using his body, he preferred sitting in his room reading books. He mainly read history books. War history books at that. Even when he occasionally came outside, he would just watch me and my siblings play with somewhat arrogant eyes.”

“…….”

“But then on the day he first held a sword, he defeated the family knight in just the second bout. And that was even in an unfavorable situation with one arm injured.”

“Ho,” the Duke’s exclamation of genuine amazement followed.

“In just two bouts?”

“Yes, and with his left hand too.”

I extended the hand holding my knife and tilted my head up slightly like Ricardo had back then. It was somewhat frivolous behavior for a formal dinner, but I thought what the ducal couple wanted from me wasn’t the proper posture of a fine lady.

“At that time, he waved the wooden sword around in front of me saying, ‘I’m ambidextrous. Does being ambidextrous need a reason too?'”

I continued the story, even clumsily imitating his childhood voice.

“Ha, that’s exactly like him now.”

This time the Duchess answered, glancing sideways at Ricardo.

“Yes, so Harold, who had been Ricardo’s opponent, was really shocked.”

“Harold?”

Ricardo, who had been silent until now, turned his head and smiled with an unreadable meaning.

“The Fennel family’s…… knight, was it? That Harold?”

“Ah, yes……”

“Was a knight.”

“That’s right.”

The ducal couple, who had been enthusiastic listeners of the story until just now, now looked back and forth between Ricardo and me like theater spectators. Ricardo, seemingly unconcerned with such spectators’ gazes, spoke slowly.

“But how is it that you’re still connected with that knight?”

The way he even leaned back leisurely, acting relaxed, showed he had no intention of ending the conversation easily.

“Or is it not? Perhaps feelings from the past remain until now, continuing to echo inside, so desperately?”

“Th-that’s not it.”

“It’s not?”