I Stole The Duke - Chapter 55

Mother, I don’t have much time—so I’ll just borrow a few things.

Joel’s next stop was the Countess’s Secret Room—a treasure vault of sorts, filled with dresses that were either too youthful for her age or too precious to wear.

As expected, there’s less variety here compared to the estate in Flencia.

Like a fashion museum, dozens of dresses were displayed on mannequins behind glass cases, each lovingly preserved.

Still, Mother and I really do share similar tastes.

Joel halted before one particular display, eyes fixed. It was a stroke of luck that his mother, once considered the most beautiful woman in the Empire, had kept her youthful sentimentality alive all these years.

I’ll accept this with gratitude, Mother.

Having talked fashion extensively with his mother over the years, Joel already knew the magic passcode that unlocked the protective enchantments she placed on her wardrobe. In mere moments, he’d swept up the dress and every matching accessory into his arms.

Of course, he was well aware this meant a thorough scolding awaited him in the near future.

Meanwhile, over at the Rancelloti estate, the atmosphere resembled a funeral.

“H-How… how could this kind of vile article mention my daughter…?”

The Marquis of Rancelloti, hands trembling around the cheap tabloid he normally wouldn’t even glance at, was livid. He’d spent years raising his daughter with care and dignity. This was outrageous.

“Riela… speak to me. What is this article saying? That you were in the palace gardens with this… this man, this ‘J’?!”

That such filth could be printed about his daughter—it was beyond belief. No matter how hard he tried, the marquis couldn’t calm down.

“It’s not true, Father. The article is a blatant fabrication.”

Riela knelt before him, her face drained of all color. She’d only let her expression slip a little yesterday—who would’ve imagined something like this would come out in print?

“How far did things go with that man?!”

“Nothing happened between us. Nothing at all.”

“You swear that’s the truth? Riela… my daughter… if there’s even a shred of a lie, I will not forgive it.”

Now was not the time for denial or hiding things. He needed to understand the situation clearly in order to salvage her standing.

“We only danced at the ennoblement ball… and yesterday at the tea party, there was a brief moment of contact.”

“Contact? What kind of contact?”

The Marquis’s face turned crimson as he glared at his daughter.

“There were rats at the tea party… he helped me, and lifted me onto the table for safety.”

“You—!”

The Marquis was speechless. Whether the man had ill intentions or not, this incident was undoubtedly a blow to his daughter’s reputation.

“Count Espensen’s daughter was present, wasn’t she? How could you have let yourself be exposed like this?!”

There were only a few days left. Riela was set to be officially announced as a crown princess candidate at the prince’s upcoming birthday celebration.

“You’ve always been wise… how could you let this happen?”

They’d already finalized private negotiations with the Emperor. And now this scandal! The Marquis’s heart sank, convinced they had fallen straight into Count Espensen’s trap.

“I’m sorry, Father…”

Tears streamed down Riela’s cheeks as she bowed her head.

“Stand, my daughter. Don’t cry. What have you done to deserve tears?”

As much as it pained him, he had to accept it. They had been dealt a devastating blow. Feeling he had gone too far in scolding her, guilt gripped the Marquis.

“Hh…”

Riela slowly rose, brushing her tears away. Though most of the article was nonsense, there were small kernels of truth buried in it. She did, in fact, think of him last night, so much that she couldn’t sleep—a truth she could never admit to her father.

Count Espensen, that rat of a man… and that scoundrel J… I won’t let either of you go unpunished.

The Marquis, staggering slightly as he left Riela’s room, grabbed his hat and cane and stormed out of the estate.

The root of this tabloid article was that man—“J.” That smooth-talking pretty boy who dared approach his daughter. If it was the last thing he did, he’d break one of his bones.

“To the Ascher Duke’s estate.”

He barked the order at the coachman and climbed into the carriage. If he was going to see the face of the knight who served the Duchess, then that was where he needed to go.

“Good day, Lady Riela Rancelloti. I am Jordan, butler to House Terius. I come bearing a gift and letter from the young master.”

The celadon tea set and gold-plated cutlery Joel had selected arrived just five minutes after the Marquis left the house.

Sunlight filtered softly through the canopy, tickling her brow. Eliana remained blissfully asleep, unaware of the morning.

“Riana, how long are you planning to sleep?”

The canopy parted, and the bed gave a small bounce.

“Michalis?”

Eliana slowly blinked awake to find Michalis lying beside her.

“I’m still… sleepy.”

With a few slow blinks, she snuggled into his chest. He was a bit firm, but the warmth and safety of his embrace made her eyelids grow heavy again.

“Oh dear…”

Caught off guard, Michalis instinctively held her close, slipping an arm beneath her head and patting her back gently.

Ah. This wasn’t my plan.

Michalis, who had been absentmindedly patting Eliana’s back as if soothing a baby, suddenly snapped back to his senses. He hadn’t come to her bedroom to help her fall asleep—he had come to take her out.

“Today is supposed to be a date.”

The hand that had been gently patting her back moved to sweep aside the silvery strands of hair veiling her pale face.

Smack.

Lowering his head, Michalis placed a soft kiss on her unmoving eyelid.

“Mmm…”

Eliana’s brow furrowed slightly, disturbed from her slumber.

Smack. Smack.

Michalis pressed his lips to her furrowed brow twice more, as if to ease her restlessness.

“Still not planning to get up?”

At some point, his hand had slipped beneath her nightgown, now gently stroking her thigh.

“Well, if you don’t mind things going a little further…”

“O-okay! I’m up!”

The moment his hand tightened around her thigh, Eliana’s eyes snapped wide open.

“What time is it?”

“It’s almost nine o’clock.”

It was just about time for Amy to come in with the washbasin.

Smack.

Michalis left a light kiss on her forehead and gave her a faint smile.

“Eliana, let’s go out together today.”

“…What?”

What’s going on? Eliana, now fully awake, blinked in confusion.

“Change into your day dress and come out.”

“Ah… yes.”

She hadn’t even wiped the sleep from her eyes… and yet, she’d just received a date invitation.

The worn steps creaked under firm, purposeful strides.

Knock knock.

At the door of his target, Joel rapped smartly with the tip of his cane.

“Who is it?”

Inside the offices of the Daily Wespera Sports, a man hunched over his desk, pen scribbling frantically, looked up. Adjusting his glasses that had slipped to the bridge of his nose, his eyes widened.

“If you’re here to submit a tip, please wait a moment—”

The unannounced visitor standing before them, motionless yet striking, radiated unmistakable wealth.

Did my glasses break or something?

The man took them off, thinking the glare must be a crack in the lens, when—

“I’m the one known as ‘J’—the one with the infamous lower body. Nice to meet you.”

Clear and cheerful, Joel’s voice rang out without a hint of hostility.

“Guh?!”

“Huh?!”

The heads buried in the desks, writing provocative lines for tomorrow’s paper, all turned at once.

The Daily Wespera Sports.

Half of its coverage was about racing or ball games—typical sports columns. The other half? Gossipy tidbits from the Wespera social scene.

And yet, despite how salacious their content was, this shabby third-rate paper had survived. Why? Because of the nobles’ ridiculous pride.

That pride was why most, even after being featured in such trash articles, never dared confront the paper. After all, the names were aliases, and every article ended with a cheeky “believe it or not.” Challenging them would only mean admitting you were the one in the article.

And so, the paper thrived on 2% truth and 98% trash. The reason this filth kept selling? Because plenty of nobles were eager to buy it.

Someone gets humiliated. Someone else secretly laughs. In the dull routines of noble life in Wespera, these tabloids were a treasured form of amusement.

“You’re saying… you’re ‘J’?”

Joel Terius. The man they’d dubbed the dazzling “J.” That he would walk into their little ratty office? A man from House Terius—one of the richest families in the Empire?

“Allow me to properly introduce myself. Joel Terius.”

Removing his silk hat with elegant finesse, Joel gave a gentleman’s bow as every pair of eyes fixed on him.

“……”

Unwelcome guest… or a curious visitor?

The man labeled “J,” rather than barging in to make a scene, exuded a strange and effortless calm.

“What? No one’s going to offer me a seat?”

Having strolled confidently to the center of the office, Joel glanced at the staff frozen in place.

Is it because the sofa’s dusty?

“Ah—here! Please, take mine!”

The same man who first greeted him leapt up and offered his own chair.

“Perfect.”

Joel took the worn wooden chair and, judging the direction of the sunlight streaming through the window, positioned himself in the perfect spot.

“……”

Every journalist in the room slowly rose from their desks, too stunned to make sense of the scene.

Instead of raising his elegant cane to smash the place apart, “J” had calmly sat beside the window and crossed his legs.

“What are you waiting for? Start filming.”

“Pardon?”

“Capture this moment on your recorder. Isn’t this a great scoop?”

He was right. This man was the talk of the Wespera social scene—the shining “star” of House Terius. If they could put not just text, but his photograph in the paper, sales would skyrocket beyond their wildest dreams.

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