The Only Apology

"And with that, you still talk of marriage…."

Theophanie's snort of laughter struck like a slap.

"Do you mean to clutter the pages of Gazef with this pathetic nonsense?"

She gave a light, dismissive smile and steered the subject away, yet those blue eyes remained as cold and merciless as ever.

"I'm not the editor. And frankly, this is unpleasant. You're the one who manipulates public opinion, Niguel — just as you leaked this girl's personal details."

Wh-what?

Kayla looked up at the ruthless marquis in stunned disbelief.

He neither confirmed nor denied it, and in that moment he seemed utterly monstrous.

Sensing her gaze, he glanced down. His eyes said only, So what? Or perhaps, Aren't you going to finish this?

"If I rehash this tedious conversation, the conclusion is a single line: when circumstances change, people change."

Theophanie surveyed the faces seated at the table with a thoroughly mocking expression, then delivered words that might as well have been a curse.

"But what then? When a great dam collapses through a hole no larger than a needle's eye — at that point, you will no longer be needed."

Duke Gerard, who had watched in silence until now, cleared his throat to convey his displeasure.

"Surely it will never come to that. And Pani — this old man will not simply sit on his hands, either."

Theophanie shot Duke Gerard a venomous look, her face full of reproach.

"You speak as if you're soothing a crying child. I hear the launch ceremony and demonstration are nearly upon us. With our relationship this half-hearted, how exactly do you expect me to be of any help?"

Gerard's thick brows twitched with irritation.

"I shall report the unfortunate incident at the hunting grounds to His Majesty myself."

Theophanie rose from her seat like a thunderclap.

Even amid that abrupt shift, the men of House Maderson rose with their usual unbroken composure — and beside them, Kayla scrambled hastily to her feet.

"Whether you take a wretched revenge or take her in is entirely up to you, Niguel. You'll need to persuade me properly before the announcement. And not with some shabby mine. Otherwise, the suspicions about private military armament will be raised again."

Just as Duke Gerard moved to object in haste, Niguel lifted the golden brandy the butler had brought and raised it into the air.

"Let us end it with this."

Theophanie glared at Niguel as he drained the glass in a single swallow, then immediately sought out Kayla as a target for her fury.

With eyes blazing, she carved into Kayla's face point by point.

"Clearing out your place of your own accord is the only 'apology' you can offer — and the reckoning I spoke of. But you won't, will you? If you had a conscience, you never would have come this far."

Without a shred of lingering attachment, Theophanie turned on her heel and swept out, trailing a chill in her wake.

Clink!

As if to sever the receding sound of sharp boot heels, Gerard set down his glass with a force just short of hurling it.

Where the sharp crack of glass faded, only a thick residue of contempt remained.

What devastated Kayla more than anything, though, was Niguel's profile — his gaze fixed on empty air, cruelly, impossibly still.

After that first day of raging storms.

Once Duke Gerard departed on official business, life at Archerfield proved smoother than expected.

Marquis Niguel likewise made no appearance. In his place, Carlo came by from time to time, carrying documents prepared by the Metropolitan Police and taking statements.

It was Carlo, too, who handed over the key to the detective agency, saying he had received it from Owen. He had looked at her strangely when she mumbled that it was a keepsake of her father's.

And so today, Kayla was heading to Rainbury — where the detective office stood — with Lisa at her side.

Outside the window, the scenery drifted by in a slow, shifting blur.

Kayla swallowed dryly against a throat that felt scorched.

"It's certainly faster than my running, at least."

Encouraged by Lisa's somewhat listless voice, Noel gripped the wheel tightly, eyes fixed ahead, and spoke with firm resolve.

"We'll arrive shortly."

It was the fourth time she had heard those words.

"It'll get better bit by bit. It shakes less than a carriage, even… it's nice. Don't mind us, Noel."

After that the car crept forward a while longer before turning into an alley.

It was a gloomy lane where three-story old buildings stood packed tightly together. Though Hainbury was a middle-class district, it bordered the underdeveloped Cabaron, and the atmosphere was bleak.

The car stopped before one particularly unsightly exterior wall.

With no freestanding signboard and every window boarded over with large wooden planks, the building was conspicuous precisely for that reason.

Watching a yellowed blanket flap in the wind, Lisa murmured low.

"The second and third floors must be private residences."

Kayla fitted the brass key into the corroded old door. Then she turned back to them with a hesitant expression.

"I'll say it once more — even if you only come this far, I'm truly grateful."

A flicker of impatience crossed Lisa's expectant eyes.

"Don't say such things. I've told you again and again — you're the one who saved us, Kayla. Just open it already."

Tense to the core, Kayla carefully turned the key.

With an unpleasant sound the door opened, and white dust — as if sealed inside and suddenly released — rushed out to envelop them.

"Cough, cough."

"Cover your nose with this."

Lisa hurriedly produced a handkerchief and pressed it into Noel's hand.

Kayla tore away the sagging cobwebs and slowly stepped into the dark interior.

Mindful of the dust, she carefully lifted the white cloths Madam Genma had draped over everything. Her father's desk and even the reception chairs remained exactly as they had been.

"It's better than I heard. Once we clean and finish a few repairs, it'll look presentable enough."

Noel spoke cheerfully, but a shadow passed over Lisa's face — she who believed she was coming here to serve.

Even so, a remote place like this, where commerce had already died, was ideally suited for a detective agency. The stories that drifted in were always the kind that could never be reported to the police.

They had stopped by a repair shop to discuss the necessary work and were on their way back.

Passing a newsstand, Kayla stopped dead in her tracks, as if struck by a hammer.

The moment she reached for the paper, Lisa hastily pushed her hand away.

"Don't look at that sort of thing."

"Why… didn't you tell me?"

"Lord York cleaned off all the graffiti. It's spotless now. So don't worry."

"…Owen?"

"The princess's supporters and Basil's fanatics needed somewhere to vent, it seems. It'll quiet down soon enough."

At Noel's calm words, Lisa stepped in front of the newsstand and nodded.

"We believe in you, Kayla."

Kayla never did pick up the paper. She turned her back on the stand and walked slowly on.

The words of belief were clearly meant as comfort — yet they sounded like a provisional whisper, hoping the whole affair would simply pass.

In the car returning to Archerfield, Kayla tried to erase from her mind the outlines of the type she had just seen. But the more she scrubbed, the sharper it grew: the premonition that those sentences were already spreading somewhere far beyond her reach.

"A ceremony at the cathedral?"

The moment the mansion doors opened, the head maid delivered the news as though she had been waiting for Kayla to step down from the car.

Originally the wedding was to have been held unofficially at a church — until, to their astonishment, word arrived that the king himself had contacted Archbishop Augustino, the royal chaplain.

"The wedding is in ten days. There will be a rehearsal the day before, so please keep that in mind — that is the message."

That Marquis Niguel had accepted this was unexpected.

Had he not practically confined her here with orders to stay out of sight? Kayla herself had no desire to be seen. It would do nothing to help the investigation still to come.

Will Mother come, I wonder?

Kayla had no intention of commissioning a wedding dress. There was no time, and besides, Princess Isabella's wedding gown already existed — she had settled the matter with herself by simply fitting her body to the clothes.

But a public ceremony held at the cathedral changed everything.

At the very least, alterations will be essential.

Kayla turned to Noel, who stood beside the vehicle, and asked,

"Noel, has Beth been very busy lately?"

Suddenly, Niguel's cold blue eyes flashed before her.

Kayla reminded herself that she had already sought his consent in advance, and forcibly shook off the afterimage.

"You know my dream is to be a dressmaker, right?"

Beth asked, spitting slightly in her excitement as she looked over Princess Isabella's keepsakes.

The wedding dress, densely embroidered from neckline to hem, displayed a noble grace that time had done nothing to diminish.

Beth clasped her hands, unable to contain her admiration, then carefully smoothed the full drape gathered above the hips with her fingertips.

"It's gorgeous, but not the style preferred these days. Let's take this part out."

"I'm a complete novice in that regard. I'll leave everything to you, Beth."

Kayla, who needed her face concealed, carefully broached the main point.

"And I'd like a long veil for the face covering. Very long, and as thick as possible."

"Absolutely not! Hiding these elegant lines and that refined figure would be a crime. Must you really wrap yourself up so tightly?"

Beth jumped in genuine indignation, then chewed her lip for a long while in thought. At last she looked at Kayla with appraising eyes and offered an alternative.