Find the One Who Abandoned Me - Chapter 80

The figure waiting for her on the terrace was none other than Otis Glayderth.

Yes, this noble son of the aristocratic Glayderth family, the de facto leader of the noble faction, had just slipped into a party filled with loyalists of the royalist camp.

Calliope stared at him with a what on earth are you doing here? expression. Otis scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and said,

“I just came to see your face. I figured you’d go all out for your birthday party.”

“You’re curious about the strangest things.”

“I made sure my gift would arrive after the party ended.”

“Oh, such thoughtfulness. But how exactly does that explain you sneaking in here? Don’t tell me you really came just to see my face.”

He looked at her for a long moment… and then casually shrugged.

“That’s exactly why I came.”

“…What?”

“Well, now that I’ve seen you, I’m satisfied. I’ll be going. The dress looks good on you, by the way.”

“Uh… thanks. I guess?”

“No need for thanks.”

And with that, he promptly vaulted over the railing of the first-floor terrace.

A noble son—a Glayderth—hopping fences like a common thief. His entrance had been strange, but his exit was even stranger. Then again, he couldn’t have just walked in through the front entrance. This may have been the only option.

Calliope called out as he disappeared toward his carriage.

“Take care! And don’t go getting kidnapped again!”

Otis, visibly annoyed, turned sharply, sighed, and gave her a quick wave before climbing into the carriage. Only after confirming that he’d left did Calliope return to her room and calmly change into her second dress.

As the second part of the party began—with real wine and a looser atmosphere—Calliope started to feel… bored.

She’d already spoken with everyone she wanted to, and she and Isaac still hadn’t had a sip of alcohol. The only mildly entertaining moment was—

“He’s quite a fine young man.”

“Not at all, but thank you.”

—the fact that Gillan Andres had somehow ended up deep in conversation with Duke Dylas.

Was it fate?

The Duke seemed genuinely impressed with Gillan, asking repeatedly about his background and family. Gillan answered with polite precision, every word respectful. Berchia, however, had vanished somewhere.

Calliope elbowed Isaac lightly at her side.

“Isaac.”

“Yes?”

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Oh? Would you like a walk?”

“No… not that.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“Let’s leave the estate altogether. The Marchioness paid to set up some fun events in the city to celebrate. Might as well enjoy them, right?”

Some might have called it an outrageous request—but not Isaac. He was, after all, the youngest Sword Master candidate in the kingdom. But even beyond that, in his vocabulary, there was no such phrase as “no” when it came to Calliope.

“Of course.”

The couple slipped out through a side entrance while everyone else was still sipping wine and making conversation. They climbed into the Esteban family’s carriage. Calliope was visibly delighted, smiling brightly, while Isaac could only watch her with quiet awe.

Unbeknownst to them, as their carriage disappeared into the night, a few shadows began to quietly follow.

The carriage rolled through a lively, well-lit street.

With just a coachman and the two of them inside, the carriage came to a stop near a corner where the evening crowd buzzed with activity.

Isaac stepped down first, dressed in his elegant black uniform, and then offered his hand. Calliope, radiant in her formal gown, stepped down gracefully beside him. Their refined presence stood out sharply against the bustling, modest alley—and though no one said anything, many eyes followed them silently.

“It’s been a while since I did something like this,” Calliope said, her voice nostalgic.

It reminded her of a time—long ago—when she and Isaac used to sneak into town for fun. Isaac didn’t answer immediately, but instead gently squeezed her hand. She often recalled memories of things they hadn’t done together—yet still, she called them memories.

Calliope remained blissfully unaware of the small crack between reality and remembrance, letting him escort her down the cobbled street.

As they turned the corner, they were greeted by a festive scene—thanks to the Marchioness’s generous spending, the streets buzzed like a local fair. Stalls were open, lights strung across the buildings, and even the taverns—normally shut tight at this hour—were welcoming guests with cheer.

“Anywhere you want to go first? Anything you’d like to see?”

“I’d like to go wherever you want to go.”

“Really?”

Smiling, Calliope tugged his hand gently and led him over to a street food vendor.

It wasn’t a fancy restaurant or a rare import shop—it was a humble cart selling skewered meats, grilled over open flame.

Calliope knew this food well. Isaac used to eat it all the time—back when he hid his identity and served as a low-ranking knight, patrolling the outer districts at night.

She had already prepared a coin pouch for just this purpose. Taking it out, she paid for two skewers and handed one to him.

“I remember you enjoying these. Want one?”

“Gladly.”

He took it without a moment’s hesitation.

Dressed in that luxurious gown, Calliope bit into the skewer with zero hesitation, too.

Heavy with salt and a smoked flavor that masked the gamey meat beneath, this was survival food—what Isaac had once lived on, earning barely enough as a low-level knight. It was also the same food he used to bring to Calliope when she sat alone in her room, and quietly feed her with a smile.

To get through the responsibilities assigned to him, Isaac had chosen food he could eat while standing and walking—a choice that reflected his persistent and unrelenting nature.

Calliope took a bite of the cheap skewer—so different from the fine dining at the Marquess’ estate—and smiled faintly at the familiar taste that stirred old memories. Then, she noticed the slight tension in Isaac’s face. His brows were subtly furrowed. She could read the hesitation in his expression.

“…It doesn’t suit your taste, does it?”

“N-No, it’s… it’s alright.”

It was obvious he was trying not to disappoint her. And without realizing it, Calliope whispered softly,

“You used to love it.”

Though it came out like a sigh, he heard it clearly. But he couldn’t say anything in return. Because whenever Calliope revealed one of those quiet fractures—those cracks in her memory—he never knew what to say.

It was a sensation he’d come to know far too well. That she was seeing someone else through him. That unbearable feeling.

“If it’s not to your liking, that’s fine. Shall we find something else? It’s just street food, after all. If we go to a proper pub or tavern, there’ll be better options.”

“Yes, that sounds good. I’ve never explored this kind of area before—I’d like to try a few places.”

“Alright.”

Calliope tightened her grip on his hand and started walking. She hid her disappointment behind her smile.

Now that she thought about it, Isaac’s entire life had changed.

After their engagement, the way his family treated him had shifted noticeably. He had entered the royal knights—not as a common trainee but as a rising prodigy. His meals, his clothes, his life… all of it had changed.

Well, it can’t be helped. This is what I wanted, after all.

Calliope smiled again—but for some reason, the corners of her lips trembled slightly. It felt strange. Oddly so.

At that moment, someone was watching them from a nearby alley—a figure with reddish-gold hair, dressed far too finely for a place like this.

Otis Glayderth. The same man who had spoken to Calliope earlier and vanished just as quickly.

“…What are they doing?”

Even from afar, Otis could tell. Calliope had offered him something, and Isaac hadn’t reacted well to it. If it had been Otis, even if it didn’t suit his taste, he would have pretended it did.

Then again, Calliope knew her fiancé too well. She’d notice even the slightest sign—because even when he tried to hide it, she would know.

Otis sighed. Still, he was confident he could keep a better poker face than that guy.

The truth was… even Otis didn’t know why he was here.

He had meant to leave after seeing her face—but when he sat in the carriage and looked back toward the ballroom, his feet just… refused to move. The coachman had called for him several times, and Otis had snapped at him in annoyance.

Then, sometime later, the pair had quietly slipped out of the hall, climbed into a carriage, and disappeared into the night.

“Going off together like that in the middle of the night… what on earth are they thinking? And why didn’t he stop her?”

He referred to Isaac—blissfully forgetting the man was practically a Sword Master in training.

But then, a voice from behind cut through his muttering.

“Let’s be honest. You know it was probably Calliope’s idea. Like he would’ve said no to her. Besides, if we’re talking about who’s a danger to themselves… I’d say the guy who was kidnapped not too long ago is far more reckless.”

“Gah!”

Otis actually jumped in surprise. He spun around to find Berchia, dressed smartly in uniform, standing there looking unbothered.

He blinked in disbelief and asked, “W-What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that.”

“…Don’t tell me… you followed them too?”

“You’re clearly doing the same thing. So let’s not point fingers.”

“…”

Otis shut his mouth. He had no comeback.

Berchia, utterly composed, nudged his arm.

“They’re getting away. Come on.”

The two of them slipped into the crowd and began tailing the couple.

Otis, even as he walked briskly, kept losing sight of them—his thoughts too jumbled, his mind too restless. If Berchia hadn’t kept directing him, he probably would’ve lost them completely.

Could it be? Has she actually fallen for Calliope’s fiancé?

That question gnawed at Otis and made his chest feel heavy. He didn’t realize it, but he was in the middle of a denial he hadn’t even admitted to himself.

Berchia, meanwhile, had no such confusion. Her eyes locked firmly onto the couple walking ahead—eyes like someone who had already made up her mind.

After following them into a quieter part of town, the two finally stopped as Calliope and Isaac entered a nearby pub.

Otis paused to catch his breath while Berchia pressed close to a window tucked into a dark alleyway and peeked inside.

“…Look at us. What a sight.”

“You’re doing it too, so don’t try to sound superior.”

“Well… fair point.”

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