Chapter 4-3

Camilla’s business presentation doubled as a fundraising event for the poorhouse. Because of that, people from all sorts of fields had gathered.

It was a garden-party affair held in the estate’s courtyard. Along the path, paintings by emerging artists were displayed. They were for sale, and the proceeds would be donated to the orphanage.

‘Right. I’m just going to see his face. That’s all. Just his face.’

Jane was there. She had dressed with restraint—elegant, but not eye-catching—and hid her face beneath a silk hat. Fortunately, there were quite a few ladies dressed similarly, so she didn’t stand out.

In truth, there was no guarantee Ruelne would even attend. Of course not. They hadn’t made any promise.

She still hadn’t received a reply to the letter announcing her engagement.

‘Still as reckless as ever.’

Jane recalled sprinting toward the fountain years ago with a pocket watch clutched in her hand and gave a faint, hollow laugh. She had always thought of herself as cautious and composed. But the first time she’d ever run without thinking had been then—and this was the second.

Both times, because of one person.

‘Well, if I don’t see Ruelne, I’ll just see Camilla and leave.’

Camilla would be dumbfounded if she heard that thought. Smiling to herself, Jane began to walk.

How many steps had she taken?

Jane abruptly turned her head.

‘Just now…….’

She had been walking absentmindedly when she thought she saw a familiar watch in someone’s hand. She looked around again, but it was nowhere to be seen. Embarrassed, she wondered if she was hallucinating.

‘Hallucinating because I miss him that much? I’m hopeless.’

After a quick glance around confirmed that Ruelne didn’t seem to be present, Jane felt a twinge of disappointment.

It was ridiculous. Ruelne had never said he would come. She was the one who had shown up unannounced.

She considered briefly going to find Camilla, but the hostess was surrounded by too many people. Instead, Jane picked up a flower being handed out to guests. That should be enough to prove she’d come and gone.

As she walked, several young men—clearly artists or students—approached her one after another. From their perspective, even with her face covered, she was tall and slender, her steps graceful, draped in fine and costly fabrics. Naturally, they were curious.

After refusing her fifth offer of escort, Jane chose to slip into a quieter corridor.

‘This is overwhelming.’

Only then did she remember that she didn’t particularly like crowded places.

The kinds of places her mother, father, and grandfather had loved in her childhood—those had become painful for her. Places where she could no longer see the family she loved.

And yet, she had come here just to see Ruelne—and she was fine. Another quiet laugh escaped her.

“Excuse me, my lady?”

Jane stopped.

‘……Ruelne?’

The voice sounded similar enough to the one she remembered that she turned around in haste.

A tall, ordinary-looking man stood there. Dressed neatly in a gentleman’s suit, he smiled shyly.

“I noticed you were alone for quite some time. My curiosity got the better of me… so I followed you.”

Jane instinctively glanced back the way she had come. She’d walked quite far. He had followed her the whole time? A chill prickled her skin.

“I see. What is it you need?”

“I was intrigued by such a beautiful lady. Might I have a moment of your time?”

Jane suppressed a laugh. His tone was oily.

“No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I must be on my way. Excuse me.”

The man’s face stiffened.

‘How ugly must she be to cover up that much? I thought I’d at least have a bit of fun since the body’s decent.’

It was nothing, really, but he felt insulted. He’d always thought his face rather good. After failing to catch anyone’s interest all day, his irritation had been building. And now even a woman hiding her face was rejecting him—the earlier rejections boiled back up as anger.

“Haha, what’s so priceless about your face that you hide it and still turn me down?”

“……Pardon?”

What kind of fresh nonsense is this?

“Don’t be like that. Why don’t we spend some time together? You do know there are rooms prepared here, don’t you?”

For someone as open-minded as Camilla, it wouldn’t be strange to prepare such rooms. But they were meant for mutual agreement—not for dragging someone in by force.

“So stop playing hard to get and just—”

Before Jane could respond, the man stepped closer and reached for her wrist, feigning courtesy.

No—just as he was about to grab her—

Thwack.

“AAARGH!”

Jane’s eyes flew wide.

Something had flashed past—and in the next instant, the man was on the ground, clutching his twisted wrist and groaning.

“W-What is this?! Who are you?!”

Jane felt someone step up behind her and gently grasp her shoulder.

Strangely, she couldn’t move.

That deep, lingering scent. Fresh, like a forest breeze—how could she ever forget it?

“You really shouldn’t cause trouble here as well, Sir Baster.”

“W-What nonsense—”

“I’m referring to the matter that was recently covered up. Would you like to hear more about what happened in ‘Remilla’?”

“……!”

Jane had no idea what that meant, but the man—already sweating—turned pale. Still clutching his wrist, he limped away.

“Are you all right?”

Jane wet her lips. She knew she had to turn around, and yet she was afraid. And thrilled.

What was this feeling?

She squeezed her eyes shut and lifted her head. Then she opened them.

Her eyes widened slightly. The sky was darkening—once again, a sunset.

But the man she had reunited with felt unfamiliar, as though she were seeing him for the first time.

Hair swaying softly in the breeze. Dark brows. Deep-set eyes beneath strong arches. A high, elegant nose. Lips that traced a cool, slender line.

Jane’s lips parted.

Years ago, she had thought of him as a beautiful sculpture crafted by a master. Now, a fully grown, breathtaking man held her shoulders. She barely managed not to swallow.

There stood Ruelne, all grown.

The one she had known only through letters—her sponsored child…….

A gust of wind stirred. Jane knew her hair was fluttering, yet she couldn’t move. The hand resting lightly on her shoulder withdrew.

“My apologies, my lady.”

No matter how she looked at him, it was Ruelne. How could she mistake him? The boy she first met had almost vanished, but the soft gray hair and those cool eyes holding a mysterious glint were unchanged. Her gaze had dropped to the thickness of his neck before she caught herself.

Staring so openly at someone’s face was rude.

“……I was in a hurry.”

Fortunately, the gentleman before her didn’t seem to misunderstand. Jane quickly closed her parted lips.

“No, it’s quite all right… Thank you for helping me.”

She managed to feign composure, but her heart pounded wildly. It certainly wasn’t from fright.

‘Get it together, Jane Shirley. You came here to see him.’

But her racing heart refused to calm. Of course it wouldn’t. She had come on impulse, without any certainty he would be here. And yet, like that day at the fountain years ago, they had crossed paths by chance.

Wasn’t this fate…?

‘No—what are you thinking!’

Jane lightly slapped her own cheek. Ruelne might think her odd, but she needed to snap out of it.

And as much as she regretted it… she had seen his face. That meant her purpose here was fulfilled. She should leave. More than anything, she feared he might notice her relentlessly pounding heart.

Though her feet resisted, Jane forced herself to step away.

“I was in a difficult situation, and you were a great help. Thank you again, sir… I’ll take my leave.”

She moved to pass by Ruelne.

‘Ah.’

Perhaps she was too tense. She made a mistake no debutante would make—she stepped on the hem of her own dress. Her body tilted.

Jane squeezed her eyes shut.

‘We’ve finally met again, and this is the humiliation I get……!’

But instead of pain, something firm caught her. When she opened her eyes, Ruelne’s scent enveloped her, deeper and richer. The soft feel of his shirt—she couldn’t believe she was in his arms.

“Are you all right? You looked as though you were about to fall.”

“Ah…….”

Jane was grateful her face was hidden by a veil. Otherwise, she would have had to show her flushed face to a man seven years younger than herself. Even if Ruelne didn’t recognize her, she at least wanted to appear like a composed, mature woman.

Even if it was all futile.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you. You saved me from embarrassment.”

“You avoided getting hurt.”

His voice was gentle. Years ago, she could have sworn it had been sharp and cold.

Now, it felt like it could melt her where she stood.

‘Ah, honestly—why did Camilla have to say something like that?’

“Right, like me! Listen—strip down completely, press your bodies together, mm?”

It hadn’t been long since she’d endured Camilla’s scandalous ramblings. Worse, while listening to her friend’s shameless praise of physical intimacy, hadn’t she imagined Ruelne all grown up in the most indecent ways? She’d done something so shameless……!

At the time, she hadn’t known exactly how he had matured and could only imagine it. But now that he stood before her in reality, those lewd fantasies resurfaced—

‘Why am I like this?’

Unbidden, she felt her thighs tense together and startled at herself. Trying not to focus on the warmth at her waist, she slowly pulled away.

“That makes twice I’ve thanked you. I won’t forget your kindness….”

“Yes, I suppose so. Once is one thing… but twice means I should ask for compensation.”

It was that gentle, resonant voice that stopped her from leaving.

When Jane slowly lifted her gaze, he was smiling beneath the evening sky, the sunset long since faded. She stared, captivated.

‘……He’s ridiculously handsome.’

It felt unfair. She wasn’t sure what, exactly, she resented—but she did.

A petty thought. As his sponsor, she felt proud to have helped shape the once-green youth into this polished, mature man. And yet, the idea that this boy—now grown—would one day become someone else’s lover, someone else’s husband, unsettled her.

…Even if only through letters, I’ve thought of you as family.

Can’t we remain like this, forever?

She knew the thought was absurd—and still she couldn’t stop it.

“So? Your answer?”

“……Pardon?”

“In return for my kindness, would you grant me a little of your precious time?”

Elegant, fluid aristocratic courtesy. The tone, the manners—everything she usually found cloying became an exception when it was Ruelne. For a fleeting moment, all other sounds fell away, leaving only his voice.

“The evening sky is upon us. It’s too late for tea…….”

“…….”

He smiled.

“Do you like wine?”

Jane thought.

There wasn’t a woman in this empire—no, in this world—who could refuse that invitation.

---

“I hear the host of tonight’s event is someone who dearly loves parties and banquets.”

A short while later, the two of them were in a softly lit room washed in gentle moonlight.

They hadn’t gone far. It was one of the many rooms prepared on the second floor, just above where they’d been.

Jane couldn’t bring herself to admit that the party-loving host was, in fact, her oldest friend. Nor that these numerous rooms were blatantly intended for young men and women.

‘…Or maybe he doesn’t know. That’s possible.’

After all, Ruelne was younger than she was. He hadn’t even graduated yet, and…

“What are you thinking about?”

“Ah.”

Jane shook her head.

“Nothing. I was just looking at the wine.”

It was rude to drift off while facing someone. Today, she had made one uncharacteristic mistake after another. She’d always considered herself a calm and sharp-minded businesswoman—where had that version of her gone?

Even the glass of wine in her hand was proof.

She didn’t drink because she couldn’t hold her liquor. And yet she had accepted without hesitation. She didn’t want to lose the chance to talk with Ruelne.

“If you can’t drink, something low in alcohol would be fine.”

“…I don’t know what misunderstanding you have, but I’m not a scoundrel.”

“No, I’m not misunderstanding.”

Jane turned her head. Camilla, that outrageous friend, had deliberately arranged only dim lighting in the second-floor rooms. The intent was obvious. Aside from the faint lamps, the only light came from the moon.

Jane swallowed.

‘Don’t think improper thoughts. I’m here purely—purely!—to talk to my sponsored child. Yes, think of it as an interview. An interview…….’

Lost in thought, she failed to notice the steady gaze pouring over her—or the brief shadow that darkened his eyes.

“Come to think of it, we haven’t even introduced ourselves. I was a bit flustered earlier….”

Ruelne rubbed the back of his neck, looking faintly sheepish. Having removed his jacket upon entering, his white shirt seemed almost luminous in the moonlight. Jane’s gaze traced the lines beneath the fabric before she quickly looked away. The clean line of his waist, the solid breadth of his torso, the glimpse of skin through his loosened collar—why did it make her swallow?

‘Is Camilla right? Is the problem that I’ve gone this long without ever…?’

Her friend’s constant nagging suddenly felt relevant.

The more she looked at Ruelne, the more embarrassed she became. She hadn’t thought of herself as someone so easily flustered.

“My name is Ruelne Scharnhost. I am the eldest son of an unremarkable family. Beyond that, I have little worth introducing.”

They call Scharnhost a trivial house? If you asked who’s drawing the most attention in the capital these days, your name would be the first to come up. And on top of that, you carry the irresistible headline of a family’s revival.

“To say the eldest son of House Scharnhost comes from an insignificant family? Then I suppose I should introduce myself as a mere commoner.”

Jane spoke calmly, and for a fleeting instant, Ruelne looked flustered.

“I didn’t mean it as a jest.”

He waved a graceful hand in denial, and somehow the gesture made it obvious he was younger than her. Only then did Jane finally relax, a soft smile touching her lips.

“I was joking.”

At last, she eased her stiffened body and removed her hat and veil. Ridiculous, really—she’d even been sipping wine without taking the hat off.

Proper etiquette said she shouldn’t remove it, but hadn’t Ruelne already taken off his jacket?

His eyes widened slightly. He seemed surprised—but the moment their gazes met, his face was serene, as if nothing had happened.

“May I ask your name?”

She hesitated at his question. Jane was a common enough name, but caution held her back. After a moment’s thought, she spoke.

“It’s Jena.”

Ruelne blinked slowly. She didn’t catch the meaningful glint that flickered through his eyes.

“Ah, Miss Jena….”

They sat facing each other across a table. He propped his chin on his hand.

“It’s a name that doesn’t quite suit such lovely eyes.”

“…Pardon?”

Not even a pretty name—just that it didn’t suit her?

‘Is that a compliment or an insult?’

Before she could frown and respond, he continued.

“I think there’s a name that would suit you better.”

He’d said it carelessly, perhaps without thinking—but for some reason, the words pleased her.

He hadn’t even said that Jane suited her. And yet, suddenly, she liked her own name.

After that, they sat across from each other and spoke of many things.

Naturally, the topic turned to paintings. Jane had chosen it. In his letters, Ruelne had often written about art, so it was an easy subject to raise.

“You like Kaye?”

“Yes. He’s the most talked-about emerging painter these days, isn’t he? One of his works is even displayed here tonight.”

Jane covered her mouth and smiled softly.

“To be honest, I came here almost entirely to see that painting.”

The moment she said it, she faltered. She realized this had been something they’d discussed in their letters—but quickly reassured herself. The painting was famous now. It wouldn’t mean anything.

Ruelne narrowed his eyes slightly, then smiled.

“Then we’re the same. I truly adore that painting as well.”

His hand idly traced the rim of his wineglass. Jane found her gaze drawn to his long, straight fingers. How could even his hands be so elegant—so slender and beautiful, like a musician’s?

“Do you know the interpretation of The Banquet at Dawn?”

“Mm, no. There’s an interpretation?”

“Yes.”

His fingertip tapped at a droplet of water on the table—condensation fallen from the wine bottle. With his damp finger, he traced a square in the air.

The Banquet at Dawn depicted a table much like this one. Lavish dishes were spread across it, and on one side, a man and woman’s hands were intertwined. The moonlight streaming through a window was rendered with exquisite precision.

“The hands of the man and woman in that painting are said to belong to lovers in the midst of an affair.”

“…What?”

For a moment, Jane thought she’d misheard. But Ruelne’s face was perfectly composed, almost solemn, leaving her no room to protest.

Right. It was just an interpretation of a painting. The problem must be her own indecent imagination.

“I… see?”

“Yes. And those hands are said to belong to the painter himself—and the woman who sponsors him.”

This time, Jane had no choice but to fall silent. A patron and her artist in the midst of an affair—that wasn’t something one simply glossed over. Instead of reaching for her fan, she pressed her hand lightly to her cheek. Thank goodness the lighting was dim. She wasn’t a child; she didn’t want to be seen blushing over a single remark.

“…That’s an interpretation I never would have imagined. How do you know that, Lord Scharnhost?”

“Ruelne.”

“…Pardon?”

“If it’s difficult, ‘Sir Ruelne’ will do.”

Jane moistened her lips.

“Didn’t you grant me this time, Miss Jena?”

Her hand tightened briefly around her wineglass before loosening.

Damn it—what on earth had her sponsored student been taught at school? She’d thought him nothing more than a diligent model student. But his manners toward women were not just flawless—they were disarming.

‘Maybe he’s dated someone without telling me….’

She shook her head inwardly. She wanted to shake off the strange feeling creeping up on her.

“All right, Ruel—Sir Ruelne. How do you know that interpretation?”

“It’s simple. I’ve met the painter myself.”

“…You mean Kaye?”

Jane had no particular interest in sponsoring artists, but because Ruelne mentioned Kaye so often, she’d looked into him. A rising prodigy who rarely showed his face, revealing his works only through his patron—a mysterious figure.

“Yes. He’s the cousin of one of my classmates. He spoke proudly of being sponsored, so I came to know of him. I’ve met him as well.”

“…So he must be from Cademel, too.”

“Mm. You seem to know quite a lot about me.”

Jane didn’t flinch.

“Of course. Is there anyone in this capital who doesn’t know of you?”

“…I don’t think it’s quite to that extent.”

Her eyes widened slightly. The man who had seemed so mature—almost unfamiliar in his composure—flushed faintly, as if embarrassed.

Under the moonlight, the color was vivid.

Thump.

Her heart, which had only just calmed, began to murmur again. Jane quickly averted her gaze.

Ruelne, who had been watching her intently, spoke.

“When speaking of artists, one can hardly avoid the topic of patronage.”

He changed the subject smoothly. Slightly dazed, Jane took another sip of wine. The taste spread across her tongue—bitter yet sweet. It felt oddly similar to the moment she was in.

“What are your thoughts on patronage, Miss Jena?”

“Pardon?”

The question caught her off guard.

“At Cademel Private School—no, at prestigious academies in general—it’s one of the most common questions students receive. ‘Are you sponsored?’”

Jane understood. Of all people, Ruelne must have been asked that more than anyone.

It wasn’t unheard of for students to receive support from multiple patrons at once. Of course, such cases often ended badly when the truth came to light.

“…I suppose so. Are you sponsored as well, Sir Ruelne?”

Depending on the context, it could be rude—or perfectly ordinary.

Ruelne shrugged lightly.

“Yes, I am.”

“By several patrons?”

“Do I look like that sort of man?”

She found herself momentarily speechless.

“I receive support from one person only. In the past and in the future, I will never accept it from anyone else.”

“….”

Her heart pounded helplessly. And at the same time, it felt warm.

So what I gave you truly helped. And perhaps—I meant something to you, too.

“I’m curious,” he continued. “Do you sponsor anyone, Miss Jena?”

She hesitated. After the Marchioness Dowager Seymour’s marriage of the century, such questions could sometimes be used to insult a woman. But Ruelne’s expression was calm. Surely he didn’t mean it that way.

“Yes. There’s a sponsorship foundation my family has run since my father’s time. I’m involved in that.”

A lie.

“I don’t sponsor any one individual in particular. I support several students.”

Another lie.

“…Several students.”

His voice darkened for a fleeting second. When she looked up, however, he appeared merely attentive. Tilting her head, she nodded.

“But don’t misunderstand. It’s purely philanthropic.”

“I never misunderstood.”

With that, Ruelne rose. Taking the wine bottle, he strode over and refilled her empty glass. Seated, she hadn’t realized how broad he was; up close, he seemed even larger, and she instinctively shrank back a little.

“Why shouldn’t there be pure patronage? I believe in it. If someone doesn’t, perhaps it’s their prejudice that’s at fault.”

It was the correct answer. Just not one most people believed.

For some reason, Jane felt as though she’d been praised for her own actions. Her mood lifted slightly.

“I’m glad to meet someone who says that.”

But why wasn’t he returning to his seat? Just as the question formed, he spoke.

“Lately, the thing that interests me most is letters.”

Her shoulders flinched.

“More precisely, letters exchanged with one’s patron.”

‘Liar.’

She swallowed the words that nearly slipped out. If that were true, why had his letters grown so infrequent?

“That’s rather sudden.”

“Is it? I believe it’s quite relevant.”

Ruelne braced a hand on the table. As her gaze drifted to his elegant fingers, he continued.

“Once… my patron told me I should try dating.”

That made her start.

She had indeed written that. She regretted it now.

“At the time, I didn’t take it to heart.”

“…How interesting. Why not?”

Jane had no idea how she managed to respond so calmly. Was it the wine?

Ruelne smiled faintly.

“I didn’t feel the need. But… that’s changed.”

His voice lowered slightly.

“…My patron gained a fiancé.”

Jane stiffened. Yes—she had written that. It had also been a way to push him away, to create distance. The problem was, that fiancé had existed—and then disappeared.

She’d never had the chance to tell him. It felt awkward now. After making such a lofty declaration of engagement, to admit it had been broken off—though none of it was her fault, it was embarrassing.

“So I became curious. What is romance, truly? And if one were to become engaged, to marry—what would that feel like?”

“…All of a sudden?”

“Yes. I listen well to my precious patron.”

Liar. When have you ever obediently accepted my gifts without trying to return them?

“After making that decision, the first event I attended was this sponsorship gathering. And here, I met you, Miss Jena.”

At last, she lifted her head. He was smiling at her warmly.

“The moment I saw you, I felt drawn to you. It was the first time in my life I’d felt such a thing.”

His once-youthful features were now fully those of a man, radiant with elation. The smile she’d once seen by the fountain had deepened, grown more beautiful. It filled her vision. Her chest felt full of sand—rustling, itchy, aching.

“I believe it’s fate. What do you think?”

She couldn’t breathe. It felt as though she were being pulled into his violet eyes. It seemed all right to surrender herself entirely.

So when his face drew closer, she didn’t avoid it. How could she turn away from something so beautiful?

Their lips met. The first sensation was softness. Jane felt a flicker of embarrassment over her own chapped lips—she hadn’t slept well for days. She should have taken better care.

But that thought vanished the moment his lips parted and enveloped hers. Her shoulders trembled. The unfamiliar sensation shot down her spine. Her back straightened involuntarily.

She grew self-conscious, thinking he seemed practiced—until she felt the hand at her back tremble slightly as it pulled her closer. Relief washed over her.

‘So this isn’t familiar to you either.’

Ruelne’s lips captured her lower lip, released it, then deepened the kiss. His tongue slipped in like an intruder, exploring boldly, and she could only surrender her vulnerable places, a soft moan escaping her.

“Mmh….”

Startled by the sound of her own voice, she instinctively tried to close her mouth, but a warm hand slid to her throat, stroking gently as if to reassure her.

“…It’s all right. Let me hear a little more.”

Breath mingled with his words. Jane closed her eyes again.

When his tongue brushed a sensitive spot inside her mouth, her body shuddered. She swallowed his saliva. A scene that would have seemed romantic in a novel or painting now felt indecently vivid in her own life. More—she wanted more, wanted to press deeper into Ruelne.

When she came to her senses, she realized she was clutching his shoulders, his shirt collar.

“Haa… haa….”

Strange. They had kissed together, and yet she was the only one breathless. Shouldn’t she have shown more composure? It was a little embarrassing.

‘Was it obvious… that it was my first time?’

When she looked up, she froze. His flushed face was more provocative than any obscene painting.

“…It was even better than I imagined.”

“Pardon?”

“I mean—it was far too good, Miss Jena.”

Ruelne’s gaze dropped to the woman beneath him. Her pale skin, as if untouched by sun, was now flushed red like autumn leaves. The knowledge that he had made her this way sent a thrill through him. A long-nurtured possessiveness urged him on. Lay her down. Take everything.

He clenched and unclenched his fist. Not yet.

…What if she runs?

He smiled gently, wearing the mask of a harmless stag. He didn’t forget the guise of a shy innocent either. But the joy in his eyes was no act.

“May I… kiss you once more?”

Still catching her breath, Jane closed her eyes. His eyes gleamed like a satisfied beast as he lifted her into his arms. Soon, on the sofa, their long kiss resumed.

And lingered.