Chapter 42
It was because she knew every second was precious that she hesitated. She understood his heart so perfectly that she couldn’t bear to give him a careless name.
“Calyx…? No, that was a popular name back in my great-great-grandfather’s day…. Alix? No, that sounds too much like a little boy….”
As Lottie agonized over variations of his real name, a single syllable suddenly flashed through her mind, making her pause.
‘Rick.’
It wasn’t an outdated name. It didn’t sound like a snot-nosed child’s name either; it was appropriately sophisticated and suited his image well.
But.
‘Even so… I don’t want to call him by the same nickname I used for my ex-husband.’
“There is no need to agonize so painfully. Any name you call me by will be wonderful,” Calyx whispered softly.
The voice of Lottie’s father calling for her had closed in to within a hundred yards. Since it was dark, her father likely couldn’t see the situation clearly yet.
This was the last chance to grant his request for a name. However, the words wouldn’t come easily.
“…….”
Calyx knew Lottie’s cautious nature better than anyone. He decided to stop teasing her, as he hadn’t intended to cause her distress.
“Your father is coming, so perhaps we should greet him first—”
“Kayan!”
As Calyx turned away, Lottie grabbed his hand firmly. The name burst out of her reflexively.
Calyx looked back at Lottie with startled eyes.
“Kayan….”
“It’s the name of a character from my favorite fairy tale. I’ll explain the rest of the naming process later, so for now…. Oh, Father!”
Lottie cut herself off, clutched her dress, and hurried toward him.
Standing before her was Lottie’s father.
He was a middle-aged man of average height, similar to his daughter, with a dignified, portly build, neatly combed light brown hair, and deep green eyes.
The moment Calyx saw those kind yet firm eyes, he felt he knew exactly from whom the woman he loved had inherited her gaze.
Watching those green eyes begin to tremble slightly as they recognized him, Calyx slowly bowed to Lottie’s father.
It was the first meeting with his prospective father-in-law—a moment that made even the stout-hearted Calyx feel nervous.
The drawing room of Glaster Castle.
Reflecting the modest character of its master, the room was shrouded in silence for a while. Even though four people were seated there, it was as quiet as an empty room.
“I imagine you were quite flustered to encounter an unexpected guest the moment you arrived after a long journey, Lottie.”
Her father, sitting across from her, finally spoke. His voice was heavy, struggling to mask his confusion.
“Young Mr. Garnet is a young man I met a few days ago when I saw the head priest. He comes from a respectable family and is quite devout, so I thought he would make a good match for you. I should have asked for your thoughts first, but in my haste, I’ve burdened you. I am sorry.”
“Robert. About that…”
Her great-aunt, sitting beside her father, tried to interject quickly, but she fell silent immediately at her nephew’s gesture.
Isabel bit her lip and glanced at the young man and woman sitting across from them—specifically at the man.
Something that could be called terror rather than mere confusion flickered within her blue eyes.
“Anyway….”
Sitting next to Isabel, who was silently glaring at Calyx, Robert trailed off. His forehead seemed to throb before he could even get the words out.
He took off the glasses perched on the tip of his nose, wiped them carefully, and put them back on. Even after cleaning the lenses, the figure before him remained vividly clear.
It was strange.
Unless he had developed presbyopia overnight, the man sitting before his eyes was exactly the man he thought he was.
“……And your name is?”
“Kayan.”
Calyx, who had been sitting perfectly upright with a faint smile, replied instantly. One of Isabel’s eyebrows twitched violently.
“I am called Kayan, Father.”
“Who are you calling Father?! My nephew never had a son like you!”
“Lower your voice, Auntie!”
Unable to bear Isabel’s outburst any longer, Robert raised his own voice.
‘What a mess.’
Robert was a man who rarely lost his temper, but right now, he felt like letting out a string of curses.
After calming himself with a low sigh, Robert looked at the young man who managed to maintain his composure even in this chaos.
“Kayan. Hmm… I see. And which family do you hail from?”
At that moment, Calyx’s gaze, which had been fixed on Robert, shifted briefly to Lottie.
Lottie, who had been mobilizing all her imagination to concoct a plausible romance with Calyx—no, ‘Kayan’—felt his gaze and tilted her head slightly.
As their eyes met, a meaningful smile momentarily graced Calyx’s lips.
“Stallion, Father.”
“Pffft!”
The introduction, which wasn’t particularly strange in itself, was followed by a bizarre noise. It was the sound of Lottie spraying out the tea she had been using to moisten her throat.
“I-I choked….”
Seeing her father and great-aunt, who had shared the spray of tea simply by virtue of sitting across from her, Lottie felt like she might die of embarrassment.
With a flushed face, Lottie glared at the man beside her. For some reason, he was feigning ignorance.
— Miss Evanshire’s 50th stallion.
That was it. Stallion meant exactly that in the Matila tongue.
He had clearly made up the name on the spot just to tease her. These weren’t elders who could be easily deceived by such a playful name, yet Calyx remained inexplicably confident.
“My permanent residence is in eastern Matila, but my entire family migrated to Trie due to the Thirty Years’ War. My family has accumulated great wealth through the distribution industry for generations, but due to the recent unstable situation in Trie, we were forced to leave our home.”
As if sensing Lottie’s anxiety, Calyx spoke immediately. His words flowed smoothly, without a single hitch.
Lottie found herself moving past anger and into a state of peculiar curiosity.
“Archbishop Demolus was of great help in ensuring I could return to my homeland and settle down safely.”
When even that name—one she never thought would cross his lips—came out, Robert and Isabel’s eyes widened until they looked ready to pop out of their heads.
Who was Archbishop Demolus?
He was the head of the Dempis diocese and the priest of the nearby St. Viet Cathedral. He was the very same priest who had reportedly introduced Ron Garnet to Lottie’s father.
If the Order protected someone, a layperson was bound to follow that decision.
Furthermore, if the one vouching for him was Archbishop Demolus, the spiritual pillar of House Count Ix, there was nothing more to be said.
“God’s embrace is wide and peaceful enough to take in even a prodigal son like myself, regardless of the reason. May it be glorious.”
“May it be glorious….”
Isabel dazedly echoed Calyx’s pious closing. Even for her, a woman of deep faith, the presence of Archbishop Demolus was significant.
‘To think a man known for his political neutrality would vouch for this man’s identity….’
The more she knew, the more she realized how meticulous he was. Lottie glanced at Calyx and forced her racing heart to calm down.
It was then.
“If you were staying in Trie for a long time and only recently entered Matila… then you wouldn’t have had the chance to meet my daughter?”
Lottie’s head snapped up. Her father’s voice was gentle as always, but there was a sharp edge beneath it.
Her father’s green eyes pierced through Calyx keenly from behind his glasses.
“According to young Mr. Garnet, the relationship between you two seemed quite passionate, so it doesn’t seem like a matter of a day or two.”
“Father, that’s—”
“Let Mr. Stallion explain.”
Clack. Her father set down the teacup he was holding.
“Could it be that there were some improper discussions between you two? For instance… that there was a grave reason to hide your identity, and you used that as a pretext to take advantage of my innocent daughter.”
Lottie flinched.
“You had better explain yourself very well. This is our family territory, and I have many means of dealing with rogues who threaten the legal order.”
At her father’s hardened stance, Lottie glanced at Calyx with a worried face.
Though he still maintained his upright posture, he wasn’t even making a sound of breathing.
“……The answer to that question is—”
“I will give it, Father.”
Lottie skillfully cut in before Calyx could continue. Three pairs of startled eyes converged on her.
Lottie sensed that now was the moment she had to step forward.
Though he was a seasoned noble and the master of a vast county, her father was ultimately a man who lost to his only daughter.
Lottie primly folded her hands over her knees and wrinkled the bridge of her nose.
“Husband and wife are originally of one body. My answer is the same as the answer of the man who will be my husband.”
“Husband… wife? Lottie, what are you saying…?”
“It was about a year ago, on my nineteenth birthday, when the Ronvernon social season began,” Lottie said, ignoring how her father’s jaw had dropped at her outrageous choice of words. She narrowed her eyes as if sinking into the past.
“Great-aunt was there as my guardian, so she will remember. In my youth, when I was exceptionally introverted, I was discouraged because no one asked me to dance at the Royal Palace ball.”
Exceptionally introverted? In her youth?
As the audience frowned with their respective doubts, Lottie gave a small cough to refocus them on the story.
“At the very end, a compassionate gentleman did ask me for a dance, but he didn’t show up at the promised time. In the end, I had to spend the whole day as a still-life painting stuck to the wall.”
“…….”
“Driven nearly mad by self-loathing, I left the room using the excuse of fixing my makeup. Great-aunt, you remember that too, don’t you?”
Isabel nodded with a pale expression. Lottie gave her great-aunt a small smile before continuing the story.
Up to this point, it was the truth without a single lie.
Because Padrick had issued a warning to the men of high society never to associate with the eldest daughter of House Count Ix, she had been unable to escape her status as a “still-life painting” for two years. At the time, she believed it was all her fault and felt miserable.
She had fled to a deserted balcony, fearing that if her great-aunt saw her crying over such a thing, her misery would become irreversible.
“No matter how much cold air I breathed in, my eyes wouldn’t cool down. I was upset. Why wasn’t my hair red or gold? Why weren’t my eyes blue like the autumn sky? Why wasn’t I petite, instead of being tall even next to most men? Why wasn’t I pretty, and why was I born to be loved by no one…?”
“Lottie….”
