# 30
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“Ah…”
I groaned as I slowly sat up on the bed, feeling a dull ache all over.
“Ah…this headache is tough.”
I haven't had a headache like this since my early twenties.
As I could barely lift my upper body, the world started to spin, and I fell onto the bed, my face buried in the covers.
“Oh...this is terrible...”
In moments like this, I needed a hot bowl of headache soup with a heavy dose of red pepper powder. But such a thing did not exist in this world.
'Let's see... How did you get back here last night...?'
I muttered to myf, my face still buried in the covers, as I tried to piece together the events of the previous night.
She remembered chatting with the ladies at the party, accepting drinks one after another until she was completely drunk. I distinctly remember holding myf together at the party, determined not to show any signs of being drunk.
But the moment I got into the carriage to go home, my memory disappeared as if someone had cut the movie.
“Ah, I underestimated Eloise's alcohol tolerance…”
Eloise's tolerance for alcohol was much lower than I thought - basically, she was a lightweight. I could tell because after just five glasses of champagne, not only was the world spinning; Rather, it seemed to be turning upside down.
'Now that I think about it, there's no way nervous Eloise could be that fond of drinking.'
I grabbed my throbbing head and looked at the clothes I was wearing.
After all, I was wearing an elegant nightgown, which meant someone must have helped me change my clothes.
“Okay... let's get up now...”
It's already past ten in the morning.
'I failed to eat breakfast on time again today.'
But not seeing Ian's face was a relief.
Oh… I groaned like a zombie as I forced myf to sit up.
At that moment, I heard a soft knock on the door.
“...Come in.”
“Ma’am, you are awake.”
The door opened, and it was not Vivi but the butler Harold. He bowed his head slightly and shook his hands respectfully as he greeted me.
“…Butler, what brings you here in the morning?”
“I apologize for my intrusion so early. I came to inquire if you were attending breakfast.”
“It's unusual that you have to come all the way here to ask?”
suddenly?
Harold leaned closer, his posture more polite.
“Master just asked me to tell you that he will wait until you arrive.”
…huh?
“The Duke said that?”
"Yes."
“But it's already past ten.”
"Yes."
I blinked, forgetting for a moment the severe headache I'd been experiencing moments before.
Was he really sitting there like he had been a few days ago, with a cup of cold coffee in front of him, reading the newspaper?
When I didn't respond, the servant sensed the silence and cleared his throat.
“…Should I tell him that you won’t be here today either?”
“No, that won't be necessary. I'll go.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
Harold bowed again and quietly left the room. I remained sitting in amazement until his steps faded away, and I tilted my head in confusion.
“What's happening now?”
❖ ❖ ❖
When I finally got down to the dining hall after gathering myf, Ian was already still there. It was past eleven in the morning, more than two hours after breakfast.
'Am I really waiting...?'
I was more than confused; I was completely dumbfounded.
Unlike the other day when he had cold coffee in front of him, this time, he didn't even start eating, as the cutlery in front of him was still intact.
Did he eat something bad?
'Is this really Ian?'
Ian sensed my presence and looked up from his newspaper.
“You're late.”
“Yes...but are you busy?”
“I'm busy.”
“Then why are you sitting here...?”
He looked at me quietly for a moment before silently folding the newspaper. It was clear that he had no intention of answering.
'This rude attitude confirms it, it's definitely Ian.'
Feeling confused and uncomfortable, I pulled out a chair and sat down.
As soon as I did that, the servants started bringing out the food, as if they were waiting for me.
However, I noticed that Ian and I were eating different dishes.
While Ian ate a cold appetizer, a warm, clear soup was placed in front of me.
I stared at the soup for a moment before asking the server who had just placed the plate.
"What is this?"
“Ah, well...”
“Since you drank too much last night, I asked the chef to prepare this for you.”
I clearly directed my question to the servant, but the answer came from somewhere else.
"…Sorry?"
After Ian took a sip of water and put down his glass, he looked at me.
“You didn't seem to hear me.”
“No… Did you say that, Your Highness?”
“Is there a problem?”
His question left me speechless.
There are many problems – a lot of them, in fact. For Ian, that stubborn, emotionless shell of a shell, to suddenly care for someone like that, meant either he was about to die or the world was about to end.
Whether he cared about my confusion or not, Ian nonchalantly picked up his utensils and began eating.
The servant, who had been looking between us, quickly hurried away as if to flee the scene.
'...Are you still drunk?'
I quietly lowered my hand under the table and pinched her back.
"Yes."
It was very painful.
'So this is not a dream.'
I stared at the soup in confusion, but had no choice but to pick up the spoon and start eating.
Despite everything, the soup tasted delicious. Not as comforting as a steaming bowl of hangover soup, but it's close.
'I think this helps with the hangover.'
After serving several dishes, I noticed something else that felt abnormal.
It seemed... like he was trying to keep up with my speed?
His eating speed was unusually slow today.
Normally, he would have finished eating and left by this time, but today, he was still sitting there, as if waiting for me to catch up.
He even stopped to drink water or chew slowly when he noticed my plate wasn't empty.
Not possible. This cannot be so.
But when the server finally brought the next dish to Ian and me, I realized it wasn't just a fantasy.
'What on earth is happening?'
At this moment, I wasn't just confused; But I was afraid.
As I sat there, so upset I couldn't even pick up my spoon, Ian remained as calm as ever.
He took a bite, put down his spoon, and finally spoke.
“…I waited because there was something I wanted to say.”
Great, if you have something to say, please just say it and let me go. I feel like I'm going to get indigestion.
“Yes, please.”
“First of all, it would be wise to drink in moderation in the future.”
“Oh...yes.”
I drank too much last night.
“From now on, let us make sure to have breakfast together whenever possible. I will no longer leave the table before you.”
“Uh...what?”
I choked on my breath, unable to believe what I had just heard.
I stared at him, my expression completely frozen, but Ian's face remained as calm as ever.
“I’m sorry to say that, but I can’t bear to spend any more time with you than that. As you know, there are many matters inside and outside the duchy that require my supervision.”
“Yes, I understand...”
But since when did we care about spending time together?
It was a strange, absurd and incomprehensible situation, and yet I could not find the right words to challenge it.
'What is he trying to do here?'
Can a person change so much overnight? Even Ian?
He resumed eating as if nothing had happened, leaving me to stare at him in confusion.
His calm expression as he ate was infuriating.
“...Wait a minute.”
A terrifying thought crept up my spine.
Could it be…
“…Just to be clear, did anything happen after I returned to the palace last night?”
I never would have imagined that I would be the one to ask something like this.
But when I combined Ian's subtle changing behavior with the gap in my memory from last night, there was only one thing it could be.
The scariest thing is always the mess you make when you're drunk.
“Did something happen...?”
Ian looked at me steadily in response to my tense question.
No words were exchanged, but I knew instinctively.
Something definitely happened last night.
His eyes left no room for doubt.
A screaming red alarm went off in my head.
'You ruined everything.'
That's why you shouldn't drink recklessly.
I wanted so badly to pull my hair and force myf to remember, but unfortunately nothing came to mind.
While I sat there, half-stunned, Ian calmly took another bite, as if he wasn't even bothered.
How can you eat now?
He put down his spoon elegantly and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“Nothing important happened.”
truly?
I looked at him suspiciously, but the next words he said made me want to bury my face in my plate.
“Isn't that what they call a little white lie?”
...I might bite my tongue and die.
Of my free will.