PCP – 99

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Upon arriving back home, Damia was anxious that she would run into Cesare. Fortunately though, wherever he was, he wasn’t in the mansion.

Instead, what greeted her was Owen with hazy eyes, and asked:

“Oh, my dear. Did you meet your fiance well? How was it?”

“Yes, father. It was a good time.”

Damia’s smile was stretched too thin and about to crack as she suppressed her mournful desperation inside. Recalling the conspiracy she almost fell for at Klaus’ hands a chill ran up her spin.

However, she couldn’t blame Owen for not being sound of mind. Aware her father fell victim and was suffering the most at the hands of Cesare, Damia unwound her coiled up emotions. Naturally, she recommended tea to Owen.

“That’s why, Father. I have something to say concerning my marriage. Would you like to have a cup of tea?”

In the absence of Cesare, it was not difficult to feed Owen the antidote. He was so confused, he didn’t even notice that something was mixed in his drink.

“… I’m feeling a little weird, sweetheart. I have a headache and feel very drowsy. I need to get some rest.”

Having sipped his tea to the last drop Owen stood up and massaged his temples. Taking in the sight, Damia was not alarmed and helped her father go to his room.

“Get some rest, father. You will get well soon.”

Owen, lying in bed, began perspiring profusely. They were symptoms of detoxification that Lessid had informed her in advance.

Unperturbed, Damia was comforted by the fact the drugs in his system would flow out with that sweat.

‘After two days of suffering, you’ll be back to normal.’

Once Owen was detoxified from the drug and returned to his senses, she was going to reveal everything about Cesare. Then Cesare would be ousted out. She had no reluctance about it, indeed he was the cuckoo who entered the nest and the intruder one who tried to kick out the rightful owners of her family.

If she didn’t know anything else, she was sure that she could never forgive him for poisoning her father. Her sharp, cold glare glanced at Cesare’s room and returned to her own bedroom.

On the shelf there was the empty glass bottle that had originally held the antidote from Lessid.

Damia threw it into the fireplace, worried that even the slightest evidence would indite Lessid and he would be punished by the High Temple.

‘You shouldn’t cause trouble to your savior.’

Shortly after, the glass bottle was crushed. Damia let out a long sigh.

All that was left for her to do was to wait for her father to be healed. Until then, she had to keep watch and stay in the mansion; Cesare might take advantage of the gap in her vigilance and do something else.

‘While we wait, should we think about a gift in return?’

She had to stay home for two days anyway. In order to spend the time as practically as possible, Damia made plans.

She called the maid to bring her high-quality cloth, lace, and colored thread for embroidery. They were the essentials for making embroidered handkerchiefs. She received such precious help from Lessid, she couldn’t simply utter a word of thanks.

‘Afterall, a simple gift would be the best gift in return. Summer is just around the corner too.’

Damia cut a piece of fabric and began to make designs for handkerchiefs. Then her fingertips paused for a moment at the thought that suddenly came to mind.

‘Should I…… make one for Sir Akkard?’

It was her thought, but immediately she felt a sense of rejection from her heart. There were too many obstacles to convey such gratitude in return.

‘Like what happened in the locker.’

When Damia thought of Akkard, treating her like a courtesan back then, the thought of giving him something disappeared. But, it was also true she kept receiving his aid.

Had it not been for Akkard, she wouldn’t have known what happened to her father and how to solve it.

She hated to admit it, but it was entirely thanks to Akkard that she was able to save her father.

‘And he even came to help me at the Hwari Count’s estate.’

Thanks to this, she successfully evaded a crisis and dodged the engagement to Klaus.

When she recalled the help she received from him one after another, Damia became uneasy. After a long period of intense consideration, she decided to only express her sincerity.

‘……haa…indeed, I can’t leave out Sir Akkard in return.’

At this time, she hated her unnecessarily sincere personality. Damia sighed and began to draw another design. Even if the handkerchief she gave was stuck in the corner of a drawer, she had to put in geninity in it.

Contrary to her troubled mind, her hands and the designs fell out effortlessly. Rather, opposite from what she had originally intended, Akkard’s came out much prettier than Lessid’s, embarrassing her.

‘It would be quite worth seeing if it was completed.’

By this point, Damia began to feel motivated and her enthusiasm soured. She jumped into the embroidery in earnest, tying up her hair so that it wouldn’t get in her way.

Two and a half days later, when Owen woke up, two handkerchiefs had already been completed.

“What? Caesar did such things?”

Owen, who had been standing up for the first time in a long time and receiving his meal, asked back in surprise. He was still not feeling well and was wearing indoor clothes that came up to his neck even though it was summer.

“Yes. It’s true.”

Damia nodded with a bitter look at her father, who couldn’t believe it at all. Then Owen frowned and was lost in thought.

“Right. No wonder…… I did think it was strange at the time. It wasn’t like me.”

There were definitely some strange memories left in his head. On a night when he was alone with Cesare, he had been commanding him. And he found himself bowing and listening helplessly in front of him.

It was blurry as if he had been drunk, but it seemed that hazy moments like that had happened. When Owen acknowledged her explanation, Damia sighed in relief, mumbling:

“I knew it was the drugs talking. Otherwise, how could father appoint Cesare as his successor, not me.”

Right? Damia asked, her heart wanting an answer, but Owen stayed silent. When she raised her head in doubt, Owen, who had an unreadable and complicated expression, was looking at her.

“Father?”

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