Are We Still In love?

“I heard a request for investment came in.”

Eden spoke as he sat down. His secretary, Enon Carlton, who had just returned from hanging Eden’s coat, seemed prepared and handed him an investment report without delay.

The wealth of Grand Duke Burnett wasn’t solely due to his lands or royal blood. At sixteen, Eden had received his title and left the palace as an adult. Through business, he had steadily increased his fortune—and eventually, he established an investment bank, sweeping up wealth.

“It’s regarding the redevelopment of an abandoned mine. All related documents are on your desk.”

“They want to redevelop a closed mine?”

Eden frowned. In most cases, a closed mine had exhausted its value. It would be better to demolish it and build something new, seeking different sources of revenue.

“It wasn’t closed due to depleted resources but because of multiple fatalities. The original owner went bankrupt paying compensation to the families of the dead and had no choice but to halt operations.”

Eden raised an eyebrow and looked down at the report in his hand.

“Reject it.”

He didn’t read much further before setting the paper aside without hesitation. The light sheet fluttered and landed on the table.

“With so many people dead, how many do you think would willingly work near that place again?”

Enon hesitated, unable to answer immediately.

“They could bring in workers from outside…”

“They should count themselves lucky if they aren’t cursed by the souls of the unjustly dead.”

Eden gave him a disinterested look, clearly unimpressed by the suggestion. Enon, seeing Eden’s expression, realized Eden had no intention of investing in that area.

“Didn’t you once say investment should be based on objectivity?”

Still, Enon couldn’t help but push once more—the report had been quite compelling.

“I am being objective. If that many people died, it means there were no proper safety measures or contingency plans in place. Even if they bring in outside workers, the same kind of accident could happen again—repeatedly.”

Unsurprisingly, Eden wasn’t swayed by Enon’s logic.

“Besides, it’s a border region. Recruiting people from outside would only raise suspicions.”

Enon, unable to argue further, heard not one but two reasons why it was a bad idea, and had to concede.

“Tell them to give up cleanly and pursue another project. The area’s proximity to the border makes it too risky.”

Wyatt’s neighboring country, Benia, was cooperative in peaceful times, but the slightest strain in relations could spark conflict. Issues within an abandoned mine—hidden from view—could easily become a source of trouble. There was no benefit to stirring up unnecessary disputes.

In the end, persuaded by Eden’s reasoning, Enon nodded in agreement.

“Is something troubling you, though?”

Despite agreeing, Enon noticed Eden’s unsettled expression. His curiosity got the better of him.

“…What kind of man is Count Nova?”

“Pardon? Why are you suddenly asking about Count Nova?”

Enon tilted his head at the unexpected question.

“Are you curious about Your Grace’s family?”

It was a strange time for such a question, considering the long years of engagement. Eden had always treated Cecilia as his destined partner with respect, but he’d never shown deeper curiosity beyond that set boundary.

He understood Cecilia’s preferences and moods, but never cared about where they came from. In that sense, his kindness had been somewhat hollow.

“…I feel I need to try.”

Eden hesitated before giving a short reply. His mind recalled the fragile woman who had recently confessed her wish to be loved—her golden hair, jewel-like eyes, and the deep dimple that appeared in her right cheek when she smiled.

“…Hmm.”

It would be easy to feign love and affection, but Eden didn’t want to stoop to that. She would be the only companion in his life—so making the effort felt right.

“I see…”

Enon answered with a faintly uncomfortable voice. Still, it wasn’t a bad thing for the relationship between his master and mistress to improve.

“What I know is that Count Nova is a loyal vassal of House Rain. His family has served them for four generations.”

Even if Enon wanted to investigate, it would take a few days. In the meantime, he listed off what he already knew about Count Nova.

“He’s also the one who introduced Grand Duchess Burnett’s mother to the Duke. That’s why the Duke has maintained a close relationship with him.”

It made sense—the vassal who introduced him to his wife would naturally enjoy the Duke’s favor. However, that bond might have weakened after the Duchess’s death.

Still, it had been years since her passing. For that relationship to remain strong was unusual.

“The Duke trusts him enough to leave the management of his lands entirely in his hands, while staying in the capital. That speaks volumes about their relationship.”

“What are the odds that his suggestion to bring in a new Duchess right after my marriage to Cecilia is without motive?”

At Eden’s question, Enon fell into thought, letting out a low hum.

“Most would think it’s out of loyalty.”

The response was simple.

“She’s become Grand Duchess now, so there’s no longer a need for her to become the head of her family. That would mean House Rain has no clear successor.”

“But what if the woman recommended as Duchess is closely tied to Count Nova?”

Enon, reflecting on Eden’s words, furrowed his brow slightly.

“That would definitely suggest… a different motive.”

In Wyatt, women were not barred from inheriting noble titles. Of course, sons had priority, but an only daughter held the right to inherit.

A direct-blood daughter—and her children—could carry on the family line. There was no reason Cecilia couldn’t succeed House Rain.

“But if a new Duchess bears a child, the right of succession would shift to them.”

Indeed, as a ruling head, the priority fell to unmarried children. If Curtis Rain remarried and had a child, regardless of gender, that newborn would become the primary heir.

“For now, just keep an eye on it.”

“As you wish.”

Enon replied without resistance.

“And as you requested, I’ve prepared a list of potential gifts.”

“Send them to the townhouse.”

“Will you let Her Grace choose?”

Eden lowered his gaze, seemingly considering it.

“We should decide together.”

“…”

“We’re husband and wife now.”

Husband and wife. Eden rolled the words around in his mouth several times. Much like Cecilia’s sudden presence in his life as his wife, the term still felt unfamiliar—yet not unpleasant.

Following Cecilia’s orders, Evie looked around nervously. She had arrived near Morak Pawnshop, tucked away in a secluded alley. She had done many things for Cecilia, but visiting a pawnshop was a first, making her instinctively cautious.

“If you’re here to sell, hand it over.”

A man could be seen through the glass. Waving his hand dismissively, he motioned for Evie to hurry up. With a scowl, Evie placed the letter Cecilia had entrusted her with onto his palm.

“This isn’t an item.”

“A noble lady asked me to deliver it.”

The man’s face twisted in displeasure at receiving something that wasn’t stolen goods. His face is decent; too bad his character doesn’t match, Evie thought, frowning as she explained further.

“What kind of ‘noble lady’ sends letters to a pawnshop…”

The man scoffed, clearly thinking Evie was some lady’s desperate maid clinging to scraps of dignity.

But when he tore the envelope open carelessly and read the sender’s name and message, his face turned completely blank.

At that exact moment, the door behind Evie slammed shut with a clang. Startled, she whirled around. Two large men stood blocking the exit.

“W-What’s…”

Evie hadn’t imagined that Cecilia would send her into danger, but with the door sealed off like an escape route, rational thinking became difficult. Flustered, her voice caught in her throat.

“Was this the only thing your mistress told you to deliver?”

Gone was the mocking tone—the man now addressed her coldly, eyes sharp. Evie, wide-eyed, nodded quickly.

“…Tch.”

The man let out a humorless laugh, raking a hand through his hair.

James Morak, I know that you are Diego Lawson, the true master of the Maxtora Trading Company. I request you visit the Grand Duke’s estate. If you refuse, this matter may grow… unnecessarily loud.

That the sender of such a note was Grand Duchess Burnett, and that she knew his true identity—something no one else in the world should know—was nothing short of outrageous.

Where did she get this information? The question was gnawing at him, but the young girl in front of him wouldn’t have the answer. That, too, was part of her mistress’s calculated move.

If you want to know how I uncovered your identity, and if you wish to avoid a scandal, come to me.

“Tell your mistress… that the lowest of the low shall humbly seek an audience.”

Arrogant Grand Duchess or not, Diego Lawson was curious—how much did she know? A man who could never resist temptation, Diego had taken the bait.