Find the One Who Abandoned Me - Chapter 70

“I believe I’ve interacted enough with the other nobles.”

“You have? You’ve worked hard, my love.”

Calliope stepped toward Isaac. He instinctively leaned down, and they exchanged a light kiss on the cheek.

“But why was Lady Viroantz with you?”

“Ah—she asked me to help her choose a sword this weekend. I came to ask if that would be alright.”

“Oh? She’s interested in swordsmanship? Then I welcome it. Isaac, I have plans this weekend, so go ahead.”

“Understood.”

Nina froze, her polite smile stiffening in disbelief.

Wait… did he seriously come back to ask permission to spend the weekend with another woman? And she just gave him the okay—like that? What kind of logic is that?

Calliope fluttered her fan gently and looked at Nina with a warm smile.

“I hope you enjoy your time. I truly hope you find a good sword.”

“Ah—haha, thank you for your kindness, Lady Anastas.”

Okay… maybe they don’t really love each other after all. Maybe it’s just a political engagement. That would make sense. I’ll settle things once and for all this weekend.

While Nina steeled her resolve, Calliope smiled as if she were thoroughly entertained. The beautiful young woman, still new to high society, had no idea how the other noble ladies were looking at her.

“Did she really just say she’s going out with someone else’s fiancé this weekend?”

“And she said it with her head held high—can you believe that?”

“Tsk, tsk.”

In the midst of those whispering glances, Calliope remained all elegance and kindness, simply fanning herself with a smile.

From her spot on a nearby couch, Berchia clicked her tongue.

“Look at her—she’s about to snap.”

Berchia had grown familiar enough with Calliope to read her expressions now.

Feeling that something had gone wrong, Nina soon made her polite exit, and Isaac stayed firmly at Calliope’s side, not moving another step away.

The two of them stepped out onto the balcony for some fresh air, then slowly strolled through the ballroom again, arms linked. The hall, glittering with gold and jewels, was so beautiful it felt almost like a dream.

While holding a glass of ruby-red punch, Calliope spotted a familiar face.

“Oh my, good evening, Lord Glayderth.”

“There you are—I’ve been looking for you.”

It was Otis Glayderth. His tone was a bit rushed, and understandably so. As the sole heir to a ducal house, he was no doubt being swarmed by women all night.

Calliope looked at him with an expression that said, “And how exactly is that my problem?” But Otis walked straight up to her, almost as if desperate.

“I’m required to dance with at least two women other than my partner. Help me out, will you?”

“Why should I?”

“Because we’re friends!”

Calliope tilted her head.

“Did your father make another demand?”

“He said if I don’t, I can walk back to the estate.”

“Ah. I see.”

Calliope looked utterly uninterested, but still offered her help out of mild courtesy. Of course, it was only right to first reassure Isaac. She gently stroked his arm as she spoke.

“Well, since this is the situation, I’ll help him real quick. Can you stay here for a bit? Or, if you get bored, feel free to chat with someone.”

“No. I’ll stay here.”

“Alright. I’ll be back soon.”

Just then, a slow, gentle waltz began. Calliope took Otis’s arm and stepped onto the dance floor. As the music played, they took their positions and began to move in rhythm.

“You sure you want to be seen dancing with me? I’m clearly aligned with the crown prince.”

“At debutante balls, any young man and woman can dance as long as their eyes meet. No one reads too much into it.”

“Hmm. But given the tension between Duke Glayderth and Marquess Anastas, isn’t it a bit… complicated?”

“Let’s not overthink it. I’ve already got enough headaches, thanks to my father.”

“Poor thing.”

With each light step Calliope took, her white hair fluttered gently, like a mirage shimmering under the lights. Otis, watching her hair sway, spoke up impulsively.

“By the way—your fiancé was chatting pretty comfortably with another lady just now.”

“Ah, is that your friendly report? Thanks, but I already knew.”

“Are you alright?”

“And if I’m not?”

Calliope’s eyes curved playfully.

“Would you offer me comfort?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, drawing her a little closer. Otis felt a chill crawl up his neck, but not from her—it was from the intense gaze he suddenly met over her shoulder.

Isaac was watching them.

His eyes, pale as snow, didn’t feel cold—they felt hot, almost burning. Otis realized then: it wasn’t icy disdain he was seeing, but jealousy. Clear and unmistakable.

He clenched his jaw slightly.

“…Seems there’s no cause for concern.”

“What’s that about all of a sudden?”

“Nothing important.”

“If it’s not important, then I won’t bother asking.”

Their short conversation ended just as the music began to slow. Calliope looked as though something had just occurred to her, and then she smiled—an expression that always spelled trouble.

“You said you needed to dance with two other ladies besides your partner, right?”

“Yes, that’s the requirement…”

“Well then—”

Calliope smiled like a playful little devil. The result?

“Apologies for the trouble.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Their voices were clipped and formal.

Otis had just been matched with Lady Berchia Dylas for his third and final dance. On paper, it was the most convenient choice—someone he already knew. But Berchia came with complications.

“Why are you the one who looks so uncomfortable? I’m the one who got rejected, you know.”

“Please don’t say things like that out loud! Someone might overhear!”

He was understandably flustered. Two years ago, Lady Berchia Dylas had confessed her feelings to him—or at least, tried to.

She had haughtily declared that she was interested in him, and wanted to see him before agreeing to an arranged marriage her family had in mind. With her chin tilted, legs crossed, and her sharp eyes narrowed, the entire moment had felt more like a business proposal than anything heartfelt.

No one in their right mind would have called it a “romantic confession.” Otis certainly hadn’t.

Then, he remembered something else that now made perfect sense.

“So that’s why she apologized before she left…”

Back then, it was Calliope who had pulled him aside and said, “Lady Dylas wants to talk to you. I’ve arranged a quiet room at a nearby café.”

Otis had assumed it was political—Berchia preparing for the future, maybe laying groundwork for alliances. And when Calliope had said “Sorry in advance,” he thought she meant she had no choice but to comply with a powerful noblewoman’s request.

But the result had been a cold, calculated “confession.”

“Doesn’t sound like a happy memory.”

“Not exactly. But I wouldn’t say it was unpleasant either. Not everyone gets confessed to like that.”

“Exactly. Who could forget getting a confession from me?”

That’s not quite what I meant, but let’s go with it…

Otis simply nodded and focused on the final steps of the dance. As the music drew to a close, he took her hand politely, offered a respectful bow, and Berchia responded with a graceful curtsy.

Then, she leaned in slightly and whispered,

“No need to worry anymore. Childhood crushes fade faster than you’d think.”

“That’s for the best. Even if it was harmless, you and I… just wouldn’t work.”

“So much for our Romeo and Juliet story, huh?”

“Please don’t say such terrifying things.”

“You scare too easily. I always figured you were more rabbit than wolf.”

“Pardon?”

“I used to like that. But lately, I find myself drawn to the quiet type. Like a silent predator lying in wait.”

“…Excuse me?”

Otis stared at her, utterly baffled. But Berchia offered no explanation. She released his hand and walked calmly across the ballroom, leaving him sweating slightly in place.

A quiet predator… she doesn’t mean… Lady Anastas’s fiancé? No, surely not…

He quickly shook off the ridiculous thought, laughed at himself for being paranoid, and stepped away—wondering if any other ladies would ask him to dance, like a nervous little rabbit.

Meanwhile, Calliope had found something amusing to watch.

Nina, who had hovered around Isaac for most of the evening, finally succeeded in securing a dance. Her second attempt had worked.

The moment she asked, Isaac had looked straight at Calliope. She gave him a small, easy nod. Then, sipping her drink, she watched them take the floor together.

Each time they turned, Isaac’s eyes searched for hers.

“Oh dear. Shouldn’t he be paying more attention to his partner?”

Her tone was teasing, amused. She placed her empty glass on a passing servant’s tray.

But just as the tray passed, someone stepped into view.

A man she didn’t immediately recognize approached and greeted her politely.

“Good evening.”

“Good evening?”

Calliope turned to face him. His platinum blond hair and green eyes looked familiar, though she couldn’t place him right away.

He saved her the trouble.

“I’m Gillan Andres, of the House of Count Andres.”

“Ah.”

Now she remembered.

A once-famous martial noble house, with his grandmother having been the former king’s sister. More importantly, he was Berchia’s future fiancé.

Though martial families didn’t hold much power these days, the rising threat of monsters had brought them back into relevance. And with royal blood in his lineage, he was a fitting match for Berchia, who would inherit her family title.

He was the count’s eldest son. But it was clear: rather than aiming for a count’s seat, he preferred the idea of becoming duke consort—hence, his engagement to Berchia.

So… why was he talking to her?

“May I ask what brings you over, Lord Gillan?”

He smiled, charming but slightly self-conscious.

“In a place like this… when a man approaches a lady, what other reason could there be?”

Then, with smooth elegance, he bowed slightly and extended his hand.

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