Chapter 11
Astor and Lorren sat facing each other again across the low table.
They had decided to call in reporters.
Which meant they needed to get their story straight.
To be honest, it was difficult for two people who had married out of mutual understanding to pretend they were deeply in love.
“Still, there’s one fortunate thing,” Lorren muttered.
Astor’s eyebrow twitched upward.
“I was too busy managing the territory to appear in public much, and you barely left the estate after the war, right?”
“So?”
“If we show people even a slightly different version of ourselves than the rumors suggest, they’ll accept it surprisingly quickly.”
That was reasonable.
But it wasn’t enough.
People needed a story.
Something convincing enough to explain why two people would fall in love and secretly marry.
That was why they sat there, heads together, trying to build one.
“Usually, love stories start with how people first met, don’t they?” Lorren asked. “Do you happen to have any first-love memories we could use for inspiration?”
Astor grimaced and shook his head.
From what he explained, he had entered military academy young and rarely had opportunities to meet anyone. Naturally, romance had never really happened either.
Lorren tilted her head.
“But you attended social gatherings.”
“I did. I just spent most of them sitting in corners because I hated them.”
Wait.
Astor suddenly looked at Lorren.
It had been years since he last attended one.
Eventually, he had grown sick of them and stopped going altogether.
But hadn’t Lorren said she never participated in society?
Then how did she know he attended?
The question crossed his mind—
And vanished immediately.
“Wait… you don’t prefer men, do you?”
“No!”
“Then why are you shouting? Whoever you like has nothing to do with me.”
At moments like this, she drew lines so sharply.
Even though she had been the one to propose marriage first.
Astor rubbed his forehead.
His head hurt.
He couldn’t understand this woman at all.
He wanted water.
Or alcohol.
Anything.
A long sigh escaped him.
“What about you?” he asked. “First love?”
“I’ve had one.”
He expected more.
Instead, Lorren shut her mouth.
She asked brightly about other people’s stories, then refused to share her own.
For some reason, that annoyed him.
“The easiest explanation would be that we met by chance somewhere,” she continued. “I never left the territory, so maybe you came near Siaz? Lots of soldiers came there to recover. Recuperation. Visiting wounded troops. Something like that.”
Just like that, she changed the topic.
Completely on her own terms.
Astor felt too tired to argue.
He leaned sideways, stretching his legs across the long sofa.
A strange exhaustion washed over him.
“I can’t leave the capital,” he muttered quietly. “Except when imperial orders send me to war.”
Lorren’s eyes widened.
So that was it.
She had wondered why a duke handled everything through documents without visiting his own lands.
Restrictions.
He had restrictions.
Then what do we do now?
Without noticing, Lorren bit her nail.
They had already invited reporters.
The situation refusing to cooperate made her anxious.
“…Siaz is in the south, right?”
Astor looked at her thoughtfully.
A small sting of pride hit her.
Her father, Emel Siaz, had been famous because he was an excellent administrator—not because their tiny southern barony was important.
Compared to a war hero duke, their territory hardly mattered.
Still, she nodded.
Then Astor suddenly spoke.
“Come to think of it… I was sent south once to suppress bandits.”
“When?”
“About three years ago, maybe.”
Lorren frowned.
Three years ago.
She finally remembered.
Not in Siaz itself.
Nearby.
Or maybe the neighboring territory.
People had revolted under crushing taxes.
At the time, she had only heard fragments.
So that incident was reported as bandit activity?
A servant once mentioned relatives there.
They had worried because communication disappeared.
Fortunately, those relatives survived.
Many others probably hadn’t.
After all—
Astor Liliwood had been dispatched.
The war hero.
Lorren opened her mouth—
Then stopped.
Astor was gripping his left shoulder tightly.
His face had twisted slightly.
“Astor… are you alright?”
She asked without thinking.
Because he looked like he was hurting.
Astor met her eyes and pulled at his lips.
Probably trying to smile.
It didn’t quite work.
His green eyes seemed darker somehow.
“Hm? Ah. I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
He looked upward, inhaled deeply, and pushed his hair back.
The hand pressing his shoulder tightened—
Then loosened.
When he smiled again, it looked better.
Not good.
Just better.
“If we met then, that timing works. I got separated from the main force for a while.”
Separated?
Someone like him?
Lorren tilted her head—
Then understood.
Even undefeated war heroes got injured.
That had probably been when.
His expression.
The way he held his shoulder.
It wasn’t difficult to guess.
“Then we’ll say you took care of me,” Astor continued. “Everyone in the capital already knew I got separated. There were plenty of people demanding my command authority afterward.”
“I see…”
But something else bothered her more.
“Was there someone taking care of you?”
“…No.”
His short answer made something painful catch in her throat.
He must have suffered.
If he had been left behind, he must have been lonely too.
People were always lonelier when they hurt.
The man she knew wasn’t a murderer.
Maybe a war hero.
But not a monster.
Considering how many times she had scolded him and survived.
If she had really been there—
She wasn’t a doctor.
But maybe she could have kept him from being alone.
Astor spoke casually.
His face suggested otherwise.
“Garnet and Letty found me eventually. If they’d been any later…”
He stopped.
“No. Forget it.”
Astor lowered his legs from the sofa and stood.
He walked to the cabinet.
Pulled out alcohol.
Of course.
He drank because of trauma.
That memory probably hurt.
Normally Lorren would have scolded him.
This time she stayed silent.
“Want some?”
She shook her head.
Then watched him empty the glass in one swallow.
And looked away.
The reporter would arrive tomorrow afternoon.
“Make sure they bring a camera,” Letty had said proudly.
Astor had laughed and told her she did well.
Everything possible had already been prepared.
They practically had a script ready to hand over.
Still—
Talking face-to-face would be different.
There would be photographs too.
“If something unexpected happens,” Astor said with a crooked smile, “I’ll leave it to you.”
“You’re better at improvising than I am.”
Lorren thought he seemed perfectly capable too.
Still, she nodded.
“Using my brain this much is exhausting,” Astor muttered. “I’m going to rest.”
He told her to rest too.
There was something important tomorrow.
Honestly—
Her head hurt too.
Today’s work could wait.
Letty was competent now.
Between experience and training, she handled nearly everything that didn’t specifically require the duke or duchess.
Maybe she would skip dinner.
Ask Anna and Rize for warm bathwater and something to help her sleep.
I really have gotten used to being taken care of.
The thought made Lorren smile to herself as she stretched her stiff back.
Nearby, Astor leaned toward Letty and whispered something.
Letty frowned and nodded.
He once said he had been so inflexible during his military years that people suffered because of it.
Maybe he used to make that face often.
Strangely—
She suddenly wanted to know what they were talking about.
That had never interested her before.
Maybe I’ve gotten too comfortable around Astor and Letty.
As Lorren stared blankly at them, Astor turned.
Heat climbed into her face immediately.
Ridiculous.
He couldn’t possibly know what she was thinking.
Still, she fanned herself.
Astor tilted his head.
Then, after a moment—
He smiled.
That expression bothered her.
Whenever he smiled like that, it felt like he could read everything.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked.
Her voice came out sharper than intended.
Astor’s crooked smile softened slightly.
Probably imagination.
“Oh, right,” he said suddenly. “Could you make me a list of places Siaz invested in?”
“…I can. Why?”
“I’m thinking of trying investments too.”
He smiled lazily.
“The profits seem worthwhile.”
From what he investigated, the current Baron Siaz—Lorren’s uncle—had no interest in investments.
Taxes had increased.
Money disappeared into new buildings.
Jewelry.
Dresses.
Waste.
If investors abandoned those ventures—
Perhaps Lorren could quietly reclaim that space.
A beat later, Lorren finally understood.
Her pale violet eyes widened.
Her red lips parted.
Astor laughed softly.
Then left the room.
Thinking that her shocked expression was surprisingly entertaining.
