An Unwelcome Reunion

Rihard had waited a long time for someone from House Belois. Someone bearing the name Belois itself. And so, the moment he heard that name, he had come straight down to the drawing room — only to frown the instant he laid eyes on a familiar face.

Because the person waving at him with the breezy ease of an old friend was none other than Noah Belois.

"I didn't expect you to come looking for me."

"Neither did I, so don't blame yourself."

Noah shrugged and rose from his seat.

"Honestly, buying the mansion directly across the street was a bit obvious. Ah, I mean my lady. No, wait — Her Grace now, isn't it? She came out to have a look around. Surely you didn't miss her."

"……"

"Don't worry. Bella has no idea that buying the house right next to the Duke of Belois is your pathetic, cowardly way of begging her to come find you."

Is that supposed to be a consolation?

Had Rihard not known Noah, he might have been confused. But he had endured enough of this man to be thoroughly sick of him.

He's mocking me right now. And enjoying every second of it.

"Wipe that look off your face. All things considered, this is a decent reunion, wouldn't you say?"

"In what universe?"

"The part where our positions have flipped? I'm now the one speaking up to a count. Doesn't that feel satisfying?"

"Like hell it does."

"My. Can't you sense how much I envy you, Count?"

"Lying through your teeth, as always."

"This is exactly why I hate people who know me too well."

Rihard twisted his lips as he watched Noah grin shamelessly.

Just as Noah had said, the dynamic between them had shifted entirely from ten years ago. Under the late Duke of Belois's plan, Noah should have become the next Duke of Belois — that was the whole reason he'd been adopted as heir in the first place. And Rihard would have been a landless knight, bowing his head to him.

"In any case, for a house bought in such haste, it's not bad. But you'll need new staff. No matter how rushed the purchase, you can't expect a man who can't even recognize a vassal of the Duke of Belois to serve as your butler."

"If you've got time to worry about my household, worry about your own life."

"What's wrong with my life? The real problem is your household. Thunderbolt Count or not, you're the hero of the North — and your butler can't identify a retainer of the Duke of Belois on sight?"

Rihard watched Noah in silence as the man sprawled across the center of the drawing room, needling him with every breath.

Noah had always been impossible to read, even as a boy — but he wasn't the type to waste effort on pointless errands. If he'd come all this way, there had to be a reason. Rihard let his gaze travel over Noah slowly, from head to toe.

He was dressed light, as if preparing to travel far. With the head of House Belois so recently changed, there was only one reason his aide would need to be away.

"On your way to the Belois territory, are you?"

"……You tracked me down just to say that?"

"Do we have anything else to discuss?"

"Ha."

Noah shook his head, regarding Rihard with an expression of utter weariness. As if he couldn't even begin to figure out where to start.

'Even if the Grand Duke hadn't objected, those two would have broken up eventually.'

And then, just like now, neither would have been able to say it first — circling each other like a pair of dogs that needed to relieve themselves but were too stubborn to admit it.

'It genuinely bothers me, though.'

Noah clicked his tongue. It wasn't hyperbole — he honestly couldn't convince himself that Isabella getting back together with Rihard was a good thing.

Mending a broken relationship was hard enough. When the ending had been that much of a disaster, there was no question.

"Fine. Then let me tell you something that might actually interest you, Count."

But still.

"Why did you come back? I thought you'd given up five years ago. Was I wrong?"

They said a choice was never about picking the best option — only the least terrible one.

"Or is it that you're planning to marry the Imperial Princess and become royalty yourself?"

The contempt in Rihard's gaze at that moment was so naked that Noah found himself speaking defensively.

"Everyone's whispering that the Count is clearly after the Princess's side of the bed."

"I should be the one asking. Watching you scurry off to your territory like a rat at a time like this — are you going to clean up the mess the late Duke left behind?"

Noah, who had been trying to provoke Rihard, froze for an instant.

"How on earth did you—! No, hah. Never mind. Answer the question first. Do you still have feelings for Bella?"

Rihard's head tilted slightly to one side, as if he couldn't fathom why he owed Noah an answer. That alone was answer enough.

'Figured as much. Good. I can work with this.'

Squeezing this visit into the cracks of his schedule had been worth it after all.

"If you do still care for her, then help her."

Rihard's brow twitched. He chewed over Noah's words as if he'd just heard something utterly absurd.

"Help? Me? The Duke of Belois, of all people?"

"Yes. As it happens, it's something only the Count can do."

Damon had told Isabella to end things, but he had no intention of letting her go. Not out of love — out of necessity.

And the more entangled Isabella became with Damon, the more dangerous her position grew. At worst, she might find herself saddled with the baseless accusation that she had seduced Damon to get her hands on the embezzled crown funds.

To hide a tree, you sent it into the forest. That was why Noah had come to House Winston — to use Rihard to bury Isabella in a scandal so loud and so public that no one would look twice at her connection to Damon.

'Thankfully, the bastard still has feelings for Bella.'

Whether it was love, he couldn't say.

Regret?

Maybe. Or perhaps something closer to bitter resentment.

'Doesn't matter what it is. As long as I can use it.'

Noah curled one corner of his mouth upward, watching the man close the distance between them.

Isabella would never know. She hadn't seen the expression on the face of the person who had snatched her back just as she was falling into the grave.

Right up until the moment they entered the cemetery, Rihard had been the very image of the North's cold steel — a knight whose mere glance was enough to make gossiping nobles fall silent as if they'd never spoken at all.

And yet.

'Thinking back on it now, I suppose he wanted to look good in front of Bella.'

That raw, unguarded bewilderment he hadn't managed to hide — the instant Isabella's body swayed toward him.

That was why Noah hadn't resisted when Rihard seized him by the collar. The direction this relationship was tilting in had been obvious.

As if he'd read Noah's thoughts, Rihard spoke in a low voice.

"Noah Belois. If you think I'll dance in the palm of your hand again, you're gravely mistaken."

"……Even if it means Bella might become Empress?"

Ah. There it is.

Beneath the thick layer of suspicion, he couldn't hide the flicker of hope.

Hah. Honestly, how can the two of them be so alike?

"Explain."

"Does the reason matter?"

"Then what does?"

"That my lady — that Bella — doesn't like Damon. She can't stand him."

Rihard flinched.

"And that she seems to still be holding someone else in her heart."

Noah narrowed his eyes, watching the bones of Rihard's hand stand out as his grip tightened.

Almost there, aren't we?

But then.

"Ha."

Rihard let out a hollow laugh and released his collar. Noah, half-shoved away, rubbed at his neck.

Any trace of hesitation or bewilderment had vanished from Rihard's face. It was simply cold — as if the temptation in Noah's words had never registered at all.

"You're telling me the Duke of Belois is in love with me?"

"……Yeah."

Noah couldn't for the life of him figure out what about that statement warranted such fury, so he let his answer trail off instead of elaborating.

Unfortunately, it was more than enough for Rihard.

"She doesn't love me."

No, why are you so damn certain about someone else's feelings?

"What Isabella loves is wealth and power."

……Our lady likes money and influence, sure, but she's not nearly that much of a snob.

More to the point—

Noah looked up at Rihard with a dissatisfied expression. The man was seething over the fact that Isabella didn't love him.

Cold as a sheet of ice. Bitter as the northern frost.

Which meant, in other words—

"……Don't tell me that's why you slaughtered every monster in the North and took the title? Ah, right. You made a fortune too, didn't you. Wealth and power."

So you do still love her, don't you?

Rihard flinched at Noah's pointed question. But his face hardened into something impenetrable — a wall no needle could pierce — as he replied.

"Me? Don't be absurd."

"Oh, of course. My mistake. Then it makes absolutely no difference to you if my lady dances the opening waltz of the ball with the Crown Prince as her partner, does it?"

No answer came.

Noah swallowed a sigh as he watched the man freeze over like the ice of the North itself.

"It's nearly time for my lady to present herself at the palace. If you want to stop it, I'd hurry."

At those words, Rihard shot Noah one last glare, wheeled around, and strode out without another word. No apology, no explanation — nothing.

Left alone in a situation that would earn him a reputation for rudeness and no way to defend himself, Noah leaned back against the sofa and let out a long breath.

No, seriously—

"What the hell happened five years ago to cause all this drama?"

He shook his head, thinking that relationships between men and women would always be a mystery.