chapter 16

Leaving Lucius behind, Celia headed into the palace gardens and immediately ran into an unexpected situation.

“Evanador Velastian Brickwell!!”

At Celia’s sharp shout, the woman who had been half-buried in Evanador’s arms jumped in fright.

She was so startled that she hastily gathered her disheveled clothes and ran away.

Moments earlier, the spot had been filled with heavy breathing and whispered words.

Now Evanador lazily straightened up like a beast waking from a nap.

“Big sister. Even between family members, it’s not proper to spy on your younger brother’s bedroom affairs.”

“…Since when did the Imperial Garden become your bedroom?”

“Then should I call it my nighttime affairs instead?”

Without the slightest sense of shame, Evanador answered calmly, still carrying obvious traces of his debauchery.

Unable to bear the shocking sight she had stumbled upon, Celia covered her eyes.

His formal tailcoat was barely serving its purpose.

His jacket hung loosely off one shoulder, wrinkled and disordered.

His white shirt was half-unbuttoned, exposing far too much.

The tie hanging loosely around his neck only emphasized the sharp veins visible beneath his skin.

“Don’t be so angry. There’s no benefit in getting worked up over your grown brother’s relationships.”

When he smiled, a deep dimple appeared in his left cheek.

“You’re Brickwell’s heir. Am I supposed to let your behavior stain the family’s name?”

Pulling off his loosened tie completely, Evanador tilted his head.

His expression suggested her words were ridiculous.

“What about you, Sister?”

“Can you honestly say you’re acting for Brickwell’s benefit?”

Celia stared at him.

Evanador tossed aside his damp gloves, and his gaze became noticeably colder.

“I’m asking whether you’re really in a position to lecture me right now.”

He gestured behind her.

His eyes drifted toward the brightly lit ballroom in the distance.

The meaning was obvious.

Why are you here instead of with Lucius?

“He’s doing fine without me. He’s not careless enough to expose the fact that he’s lost his memories.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Who doesn’t know that a man like Lucius isn’t likely to let something like that slip?”

“Then why are you telling me—”

“Since he’s lost his memories, you should make him depend on you.”

“…”

“If this part is broken,” he said, tapping his temple twice, “imagine how confused and anxious he must feel.”

“You should comfort him.”

“Support him.”

“Make him look at no one but you.”

His finger tapped his temple again.

Still the same as ever.

No consideration.

No respect.

No loyalty.

No principles.

Celia trembled with rage.

“No.”

“I’m not doing that.”

The grin vanished from Evanador’s face.

“You’re not serious.”

“And if I am?”

“You think I’m going to listen after you practically told me to sell myself to Lucius?”

“I’m not doing it.”

“I’ll find what Father wants my own way.”

“I’m not using that method.”

“I’m giving you the easiest option, and you’re refusing?”

“Since when was selling your body and your heart an easy thing?”

When Celia refused to back down, the muscles along Evanador’s neck and shoulders gradually stiffened.

“Even if it’s Father’s order?”

His bare hand settled on her exposed shoulder.

At first it seemed like a simple touch.

Then the pressure increased.

Celia’s eyes sharpened.

“Let go!”

“It’s Father’s command.”

“If you can get Lucius wrapped around your finger, think about how much could change.”

Every time she tried to pull away, Evanador’s face grew colder.

“Don’t even think about defying Father’s judgment.”

“There’s a limit to how much I can overlook.”

His voice dropped into a growl.

Damn it.

Whenever the word “Father” appeared, Celia always found herself losing strength.

Evanador kept scraping at her pride.

Again.

And again.

Until it felt raw and bleeding.

Only then did she fall silent.

She crushed her skirt in her fists.

Seeing that, Evanador finally smiled.

“You don’t want to disappoint Father either.”

He turned her around.

“Of course, Father isn’t going to lock you in a wardrobe anymore.”

“Or throw you into the stables in the middle of winter.”

“…Don’t talk about the past as if you have the right.”

Ignoring her, he pointed toward the brightly lit ballroom.

The scent of women’s perfume still clung to him.

The pressure of his hand remained on her shoulder.

Celia’s anger slowly crystallized into something cold.

“Don’t make this difficult.”

“We’re just using a Lucius who’s become an idiot.”

“If you simply do what Father and I tell you, nobody will have to squeeze more tears from those pretty eyes of yours.”

“Evanador Brickwell!”

Finally, he withdrew his hand.

Then he shoved her away.

“Think only about Brickwell.”

“Don’t try any clever tricks.”

Celia lost her balance and stumbled on the stone path.

By the time she regained her footing, Evanador was already standing beneath the moonlight.

One hand buried in his pocket.

The other is waving lazily.

“Just don’t forget what’s important.”

***

Once Celia disappeared, the smile vanished from Evanador’s face.

He watched her retreating figure until she was nearly out of sight.

“Young Master, what shall we do?”

A servant who had been secretly observing everything finally approached.

A loyal Brickwell subordinate, trained to suppress emotion and obey orders, waited patiently for an answer.

Evanador pulled out a carefully dried cigar from his coat.

“Leave her alone.”

“But—”

“What?”

“You want to run to Father and report that she’s disobeying orders?”

He shoved the unlit cigar between his lips and raked a hand through his hair.

The servant flinched at his sharp tone.

Evanador took a long drag from the cigar despite it not being lit.

His cheeks hollowed slightly.

“She’s acting up again without knowing her place.”

“Let her.”

“I want to see how far she goes this time.”

He had quit smoking years ago.

But whenever something disturbed him enough, he still found himself chewing on cigars.

“Young Master…”

“She’ll get caught by Father soon enough.”

“Leave her be for now.”

“Do you have any idea how many eyes Father has planted inside Windmere?”

Father’s control wasn’t something that could be escaped so easily.

Celia simply refused to accept that.

And because of it, she had endured endless rounds of “education.”

Locked in closets.

Forced to sit at the table and eat leftovers after everyone else finished.

Forbidden from speaking.

Made to kneel for hours.

It would’ve been easier if she had just submitted.

Watching her suffer had taught Evanador something.

Submission.

He had seen what happened whenever she defied their father.

And after witnessing it all, he never dared make the same choice.

“My, Lord Evanador?”

“What are you doing here?”

A group of young noble ladies happened to spot him and burst into giggles.

They paid no attention to his disheveled appearance.

Instead, they approached him freely, leaning against his chest, wrapping themselves around his arm, and whispering sweet words through red-painted lips.

“…I’ve just been abandoned.”

“That’s a lie!”

“Even so, we’ll pretend to believe you.”

“Come spend time with us instead.”

Evanador flicked the cigar from his lips and tilted his head back.

Beneath the star-filled sky, his blue eyes reflected the light like a still lake.

“No.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

For once, he rejected attention he would normally have welcomed.

Celia Brickwell.

A blind moth that kept throwing herself into the flames despite knowing how the story ended.

She had always been like that.

She never shrank back before their father.

She always met his gaze directly.

Always stubborn.

Always defiant.

All young Evanador had been able to do was quietly hide behind her.

“Hah. Seriously.”

“My cunning, vicious, unbearable sister.”

He laughed bitterly.

“She’s got a real talent for ruining people’s moods.”

A talent for making him feel pathetic simply by existing and refusing to surrender.

Amid the heavy perfume and cigar smoke, Evanador slowly closed his eyes.

***

“Terrible” wasn’t a strong enough word for how she felt.

After being practically shoved back toward the ballroom by Evanador, Celia returned still carrying her anger.

Yet the atmosphere seemed even more chaotic than before.

People were looking at her differently.

There was a strange tension in the air.

What’s going on?

Still, she quickly focused on her original objective.

Lucius.

There were always crowds gathering around him like ants swarming spilled honey.

Finding him shouldn’t be difficult.

“Lady Celia… no, Young Duchess Windmere.”

Just as she started walking toward the largest crowd, someone called out to her.

Already irritated by the interruption, she turned around.

The moment she recognized the speaker, a flicker of surprise crossed her face.

“It’s been a long time.”

“Would this be the first time we’ve met since our engagement was broken off?”