KYDC chapter 47

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Even though the room was warm, watching the snowstorm outside made me yearn for the sun-soaked southern coasts, where I used to eat under the shade, overlooking the sea.

In Nirvan, where the climate is mild year-round and there’s little rainfall, fresh fruit is always available, regardless of the season.

The fig tree in the backyard of my estate was the same.

It was so massive that even a grown man couldn’t wrap his arms around it.

Every day, we picked new fruit, the thin-skinned, disease-resistant figs needing only a quick rinse before being enjoyed.

The thought of those figs, with their simple, sweet taste, began to chip away at my steadfast resolve.

“Send it back.”

I said that, but without realizing it, my hand kept reaching for the fork. Hawthorn, hesitating for a moment, finally added:

“Actually… the Grand Duke specifically told me not to mention this, but…”

What was he so hesitant to say? When I looked up, urging him to continue, Hawthorn finally spoke.

“Those figs were brought directly from Nirvan.”

“…What?”

Could it have been my father or Eliza who sent them?

I hadn’t told them I was bedridden for fear they might worry.

But no, it was someone else entirely.

“Who?”

“Well… that is…”

What is it now? I pressed him to speak quickly, as I had no time for this.

“Before the Grand Duke returned from Hafthis, he ordered Nirvan to send some local fruits and specialty products.”

“What?”

Now that I thought about it, the ingredients in the desserts I had been sending back seemed oddly familiar.

Whether it was cookies topped with candied tangerines or nuts coated in sugar, they were all made with familiar southern ingredients, even if the methods were different.

What a waste… I had returned all those special ingredients to the kitchen without even tasting them.

My conscience pricked at me, thinking how much effort had gone into bringing them here, all for just me.

‘At least the kitchen staff must have eaten them…’

Still, I couldn’t help but feel guilty about wasting the pastry chef’s effort.

They had worked hard with unfamiliar ingredients to make something delicious, and I had rejected it all.

‘Who asked him to do all this?’

It was unsolicited generosity, and I didn’t have to accept it just because it was a kindness.

With that self-righteous thought, I picked up the fork.

“Well, I’ll at least taste a little, out of respect for the pastry chef’s effort.”

As the fork pierced the soft sponge and the cream touched my tongue, a pleasant sweetness spread in my mouth.

The texture was enhanced by the crunchy pistachios, while the figs provided a soft, satisfying finish.

The fruit, fresh from Nirvan, had thin skin and firm flesh, offering a taste that filled my mouth with happiness.

“It’s quite good.”

Though the cake’s style was simpler and more rustic than what I was used to, it had a unique charm.

The subtle differences in texture and density were surprisingly pleasing.

Without even realizing it, I took another bite.

‘I’d like to try a little more of this sponge…’

By the time I put the fork down, what was meant to be just a taste had left the plate completely empty.

“I’ll return the rest to the kitchen!”

There wasn’t much left besides a bit of cream, but Hawthorn beamed, clearly proud of his role in the now-clean plate, and left the room, practically skipping.

I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that, while my irritation was directed at Hernan, the kitchen staff had unfairly borne the brunt of it.

‘If only Hernan wasn’t so exasperating…’

But even that thought brought me back to the beginning.

If we stripped away status and circumstances, weren’t we a good match?

But of course, I couldn’t afford to forget that we were bound by a contract between our families, a deal meant to resolve an earlier crisis.

‘You can know the depths of a river, but never the heart of a person.’

People, after all, are not to be trusted.

I sighed, watching Hawthorn disappear down the hallway.

Just one more look at the blueprints, and I’d be done for the day.

As I studied the design of the long, three-story building, a disturbance pulled my attention away from the plans.

“My lord, there’s a message for you!”

Hawthorn, who had left moments earlier looking so content, returned pale as a sheet.

What now? I could hear the sound of horses being tied up outside.

There weren’t many reasons to send a hand-delivered letter when communication through the tubes would suffice.

It must be either a high-ranking noble who valued formality above all else, or perhaps even the royal family.

If it were from the palace, though, they would have sent it to the Nirvan estate, not here.

What could it be? I furrowed my brow and answered.

“Let them in.”

Without delay, the door burst open, and a man in a resplendent uniform entered.

“A letter from the Duchess of Bellessa.”

“Ugh.” Just hearing a name I’d rather not hear often made my head throb.

A single letter sat conspicuously on a cushion that looked like it could be used as a seat, as if awaiting some grand ceremony.

The reason for sending it through a personal messenger, with all this fuss, was obvious.

‘She wants me to read it immediately, leaving no room for excuses like not receiving it or losing it.’

I forced a faint smile and replied, “I’m currently swamped with work. Just leave it, and I’ll read and respond later.”

The man, however, stood firm, his face resolute. “No, the Duchess has insisted that I personally hand the letter to you and bring back your response.”

He then knelt in front of me, showing no intention of moving until I took the letter.

“……”

Sigh.

What is this scene, in someone else’s house no less?

The office, which should’ve only echoed the sound of shuffling papers or inquiries about the hotel construction, was unusually noisy.

Sensing the disturbance, Hernan had appeared and was now standing at the door.

“What seems to be the matter? It looks like you have a visitor….”

Just before the messenger could stand and greet Hernan, I quickly rushed forward, blocking his path.

“It’s nothing! You don’t need to concern yourself, please….”

But there was no way my body could fully shield Hernan.

The messenger, catching a glimpse of him over my shoulder, stared dumbfounded for a moment before recovering, as if suddenly realizing something.

“I-I greet the heir of Everdeen. How fortunate, I also have a letter for the Grand Duke.”

“What?”

Now what does he have for him?

The mention of the Duchess Velesa sent a wave of dread through me.

Who exactly is she, you ask?

‘I’ll marry Jurgen when I grow up!’

She’s the elder who would bring her young granddaughter every winter to spend their holidays in Nirvan.

Married into the Velesa ducal family at eighteen, she had been a political powerhouse for over fifty years, even while her husband faded into obscurity.

Now, she serves as the vice-chair of the Elder Council.

Despite not having many children, and with most of them mysteriously remaining unmarried (though I think I know why), her only grandchild is a girl that hasn’t even got her debut.

Maybe the fact that she only had one grandchild made her especially doting.

It was rumored that she cherished the girl dearly, and during her first visit to Ever Paradise, she requested special attention to child-friendly services—everything from children’s chairs and cutlery to a specially designed kids’ pool.

For the first week, she personally escorted her granddaughter to all of Nirvan’s main tourist attractions.

And as a result…

“It’s not bad. How would you like to become a part of our family? I could personally help you secure a position in the capital.”

Before I knew it, I had become a candidate for her granddaughter’s future husband.

What a disaster.

“Uh… It’s a great honor, but as far as I know, Miss Dolores is only six years old.”

I awkwardly smiled down at the little girl, whose head didn’t even reach my waist.

The Duchess, however, replied coolly, “There’s less than a twenty-year age gap. That’s no problem at all.”

No! Even if it weren’t child marriage, I’d still refuse!

I used her age as an excuse and firmly declined, about four years ago.

Since then, the Duchess seems to have found my awkwardness amusing, returning every winter to spend astronomical sums of money while trying to marry me off to one of her relatives.

It was utterly exhausting.

“There’s no way she’s contacting me for something simple…”

And what could she possibly want with Hernan?

While I was caught off guard, Hernan picked up the letter that had been handed to him.

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