Translator: Nox

Chapter 8

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Chapter 9: The Wandering Flower Basket

Classie appeared completely drained as she propped her head up with one hand, her gaze fixed vacantly on her dinnerware. She didn’t even acknowledge the person approaching her table, keeping her eyes cast downward.

A container of blossoms was suddenly placed atop Classie’s plate by Dernick.

“Is this seat taken?”

The arrival of a melodic voice alongside the unexpected burst of petals forced Classie to blink and look up.

Upon seeing Dernick, her shock instantly soured into a grimace.

“What is your business here?”

Her tone was prickly as she scanned the arrangement. The wicker was overflowing with vibrant white and gold blooms, looking lush and exquisite. It must have required a small fortune to source such radiant flora in the middle of the frozen season.

Dernick pulled out a chair and sat, signaling for service before he spoke.

“Kishin isn’t coming. I’ve taken his place.”

Classie’s forehead creased with suspicion. This man with the silver hair inspired zero confidence in her. Since their first encounter, every interaction had been built on a foundation of deception.

“I don’t buy that for a second,” she stated bluntly.

Dernick paid no mind to her skepticism, taking the menu from the waiter who had arrived at their side.

“Bring me the chef’s special,” he requested, handing the card back as quickly as it had been offered.

The server cast a curious look at the pair and the floral display before retreating toward the kitchen.

Once they were alone, Dernick reached out. He caught her eye with a playful wink and tapped his palms together while surveying the empty dishes piled in front of her.

“You certainly have a healthy appetite, Miss Classie.”

A sudden impulse to grab her things and flee washed over Classie. Was it true that Kishin Hayward wouldn’t show?

“Is Sir Kishin… truly not attending?”

The question came out softly, her desire to leave replaced by a need for answers. Despite Dernick’s eccentricities, his proximity to Kishin made him the only source of information she had.

“That’s right. He’s a no-show.”

“For what reason?”

“That is just his nature. The man has no stomach for women.”

Classie’s eyes grew wide with shock, prompting a burst of amusement from Dernick.

“Get those thoughts out of your head. It isn’t what you’re assuming.”

“Explain it, then.”

“He simply lacks any drive for romance or the institution of marriage.”

Classie processed this in silence. Kishin Hayward seemed to be her contemporary in age. If he avoided such things, she wondered if he lacked a family legacy or a title to inherit. If his ties to his kin were severed and he wasn’t destined for a lordship, he would be free from the burden of strategic unions. The same logic applied to men who had carved their own paths.

She wondered if Kishin Hayward fell into one of those categories.

“Does Sir Kishin… perhaps harbor feelings for someone else?”

“Hardly. He is entirely indifferent to such matters. Work is his only mistress. If he ever commits to a union, his bride will likely be a masterwork blade.”

Classie felt her heart sink. His status as a self-made warrior or a cast-off son was irrelevant; the reality was that he held no interest in her at all.

The waiter returned, bearing their meal.

“Care for a bit more?”

Dernick sliced his portion in half and slid it onto Classie’s plate.

She moved her head in a silent refusal. The golden, thin omelet appeared appetizing, but she had reached her limit. Her previous orders had been nothing more than a way to kill time while waiting for Kishin.

Dernick began to eat, seemingly unbothered by her mood. He spoke like a madman and had the air of a swindler, yet his etiquette at the table was flawlessly refined.

Classie sat in a daze of contemplation while Dernick worked through his meal. She couldn’t help but wonder what about her had failed to capture Kishin’s attention.

Her internal monologue was interrupted when she noticed Dernick had paused. He was leaning on his hand, watching her with a look of pure entertainment.

Irritated by his smug expression, she looked at him expectantly. Dernick flashed a grin.

“You’re feeling the sting of regret, aren’t you?”

“Regret for what?”

“Sending that message. You’re kicking yourself for reaching out to Kishin only to have your pride bruised.”

Classie gave a short, dismissive reply and turned her dejected gaze back to the flowers.

“Don’t lie. The regret is eating at you.”

Dernick wouldn’t let it go, circling the topic like a scavenger that had caught the scent of a wound.

Classie lacked the stamina for a fight and sighed.

“Rejection isn’t a new experience for me. If I had stayed silent despite my feelings, that would be a far worse regret. I would rather have a definitive no.”

She kept the final thought to herself: being turned down was a thousand times better than being humiliated by Merran.

The realization actually lifted some of the weight from her chest. It was true. A direct rejection from Kishin Hayward was a manageable outcome. It was infinitely better than having Merran sweep in with her perfect poise and claim him for herself.

Her spirits rose enough that she felt a flicker of kindness toward the man she had previously written off as a lunatic.

Looking up, she saw that Dernick’s playful mask had slipped, replaced by a look of genuine gravity.

Classie toyed with the petals, offering a small, self-conscious smile.

“Did you come as Kishin’s proxy because he couldn’t face me? To offer some solace? I appreciate it.”

“I didn’t come here to comfort you.”

The warmth she felt vanished instantly as she saw the calculating glint return to Dernick’s eyes.

“Then why? Did you just want to kill some time by delivering the news in person?”

Dernick gave another wink, making Classie wonder if the man was truly unstable.

“What is the point of this, then?”

She fought back her annoyance, and in response, Dernick slid the flower basket toward her.

“You are the aunt of Miss Merran, correct?”

“See that this reaches your niece.”

The words felt like a physical blow to Classie’s chest. She had just been consoling herself with the idea that Merran wasn’t involved, only to find that even as she was being cast aside, her niece was being pursued right in front of her.

She pressed her fingers to her forehead before standing.

“Deliver it yourself. You are well aware of where we live.”

“But that would be terribly awkward.”

“Merran is constantly showered with flowers and attention. You won’t stand out. Just take them to her yourself.”

Classie’s cold dismissal faltered when she saw his reaction.

Dernick had buried his face in his palms, hunching his shoulders as if overcome by an intense bashfulness.

She stared at him, bewildered by the display. Dernick peeked through his fingers, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper.

“I’m the one who feels shy about it.”

Classie had to fight the urge to throw the flowers at him. He was clearly mocking her.

“Grow up!”

She snapped the words at him, grabbed her purse, and stormed toward the front of the restaurant.

The clerk at the counter, who seemed to have followed the entire drama, gave her a look of pity.

“The proprietor has authorized a discount for your bill. Given the size of your order.”

She wondered if she had truly eaten that much or if the owner simply felt sorry for her after hearing her get toyed with. Her heart throbbed with a dull pain, though she realized it wasn’t from the rejection—it was pure irritation at that madman.

Dernick didn’t rush, remaining at the table to finish his dinner long after Classie had departed. The waitstaff, knowing how long Classie had been waiting, threw him icy glares each time they walked by, but he remained unfazed. He lingered so long that the staff eventually grew tired of staring and went back to their duties.

When he finally approached the register, the clerk spoke with a sharp edge.

“You forgot your floral arrangement.”

Dernick looked at the basket as if seeing it for the first time. He pulled three high-value coins from his purse and set them on the wood.

“Have these sent to the house with the blue roof, number twelve on Hode Street.”

The clerk’s hostility evaporated at the sight of the gold and silver.

“And who is the recipient?”

“Miss Merran.”

Dernick spent the rest of the day wandering the city at his leisure before finally heading home.

As he entered his house, whistling a tune, he was greeted by his butler, who stood as stiff as a board with a pained, artificial smile.

“…What’s the matter?”

The answer appeared at the top of the stairs before the butler could speak. It was Kishin.

Dernick felt a momentary spike of tension, which vanished the moment he read Kishin’s face.

“Oh, is that all it is?”

While most people found Kishin’s stoicism impenetrable, Dernick was an expert at reading his friend. At this moment, Kishin was a blank slate.

Once they were settled in a private room, Dernick poured tea for his guest.

“What brings you here without a word? You’ve got my staff half-scared to death.”

Kishin picked up his cup with practiced grace.

“Do you ever bother with an appointment before barging into my office?”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Dernick smiled and leaned back against his desk, watching Kishin with interest. He didn’t mind the surprise visit, but he knew Kishin never traveled just for the sake of company. Even with their history, Kishin wasn’t the type to drop by for idle chatter.

Kishin took a sip, his brow furrowing slightly at the taste, before he finally spoke.

“Did you have your meeting with Miss Classie?”

Dernick’s eyebrows shot up before he broke into a grin.

“Well, this is new. Since when do you take an interest in such things? Are you having second thoughts about turning her down? She was actually quite charming once we started talking.”

Kishin remained silent, merely nodding toward the far wall.

Dernick turned and saw the very flower basket he had ordered for Merran sitting near the window treatments.

His smile faded as he pointed at the blooms.

“…Why is that sitting in my house?”

“I brought it with me.”

Kishin placed his cup down and gave a cool response.

Dernick was genuinely baffled.

“Why? My instructions were for that to go to Miss Merran.”

“And Miss Merran delivered it to me. She claimed it was an excessive gesture and insisted on returning it.”

“…What? Why on earth would she give it to you?”

“That is exactly why I am here. Because that massive display was ‘returned’ to me in front of the entire guard unit, the public consensus is now… that I have been dumped.”

Dernick knew that if he let out a single laugh, he was a dead man. He pressed a hand over his mouth, widening his eyes in a show of feigned shock.

“Now hold on! You can’t blame me for this! I suspect Miss Classie was looking for a bit of payback.”

Kishin’s expression darkened.

“…Payback?”

“You did reject her, after all.”

“That isn’t grounds for a vendetta. I am under no obligation to pursue a relationship with her.”

“I happened to mention to her that you had no interest in women. Perhaps she decided to tarnish your image by making it look like you were the one being spurned. It’s a rather clever move, don’t you think?”