The Problem Is, My Ex-Boyfriend and I Are Both Dating Other People - Chapter 8

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 8

[In pursuit, 134.223.4]
Noah’s report was brief. The men who’d embezzled the funds had quick feet—they’d fled before Noah even arrived.
I didn’t need to check the coordinates. The Hot Forest. If they’d hidden themselves in the woodland that claimed half of the Belua Territory, finding them would be nearly impossible.
Which meant this news amounted to postponing my return. Noah’s decision to act immediately was the right one. The longer such matters languish, the more irretrievable they become.
But.
‘I need your counsel on this, Noah.’
The problem was that my own situation was hardly manageable either.
It had been two days since I went to bid Daimon farewell and returned empty-handed.
“Where should I place this dress, Your Grace?”
“Anywhere. Just put it down.”
Daimon had sent a dress. And one so laden with jewels that I doubted one could move in it at all.
It was an acquisition beyond his financial means. My Father had personally seen to it that my Privy Purse—and next year’s as well—was thoroughly depleted for this very purchase.
“Just be careful not to damage it in any way.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
So the dress surely came from the Imperial Treasury, and I was genuinely terrified of inadvertently having to answer for it.
Even if that single gown fell short of the Belua Dukedom’s annual budget, it would easily exceed half a year’s expenses.
I couldn’t strip the coffers bare the moment I inherited my title, all for a gift I’d never asked for. I stared at the box containing the dress and added, “And take special care in how it’s stored.”
“I understand, Your Grace.”
The maid, rigid with tension, disappeared with the box in her arms.

‘There’s no way he took this from the Imperial Treasury without permission. He must have obtained the Emperor’s approval.’
It wasn’t difficult to guess what he’d said to convince the Emperor.
‘He probably told him he’d found Sasha and was ready to marry.’
One of the Emperor’s grievances with Daimon centered on his entanglements with women. Had Daimon promised to settle down, the Emperor would certainly have given his blessing enthusiastically.
‘Given Daimon’s nature, instead of buying a new dress, he went to the Imperial Treasury…….’
I briefly wondered if Daimon knew about the Privy Purse situation. But then it occurred to me that there was no way he’d have stayed silent about it if he did.
‘He probably made some promise, so he felt obligated to send a dress. Since he hadn’t prepared anything himself, he simply took what he could from storage.’
In any case, it was clear Daimon meant to make full use of this opportunity. Ever since Sasha entered the palace, he’d ceased his visits to the courtesan and was taking pains with his image.
‘I need to tell him we should end this before tomorrow.’
Tomorrow’s Banquet would be my last chance. I steadied myself and picked up today’s Troubletop.
The front page bore the profile of a handsome man who looked every bit the type to live by the sword. I’d thought he lacked skill, given that he only ever drew satirical pieces, but that apparently wasn’t the case.
[Will a dress war unfold?
The Empire’s next sun and the hero of the North have reportedly sent dresses to their respective fiancées in competition. Everyone is curious to see who will arrive at the Banquet in the more expensive and elaborate gown. Troubletop wonders…….]
The rest of the page was crammed with interviews from empire-renowned designers. Was there nothing anyone cared about except what dress I or Sasha would wear? Or was the Empire simply that peaceful?
Either way, one thing was certain.
“It really is beautiful.”
Unlike mine, the dress Sasha received was made for her alone.
Beneath an interview with the designer who called it an honor to dress for Riehardt lay the sketch of that dress.
An ordinary, modest gown on one side…….
“Just how did you come up with a design like this?”
On the other, a gown with hundreds of feathers that seemed ready to flutter away at any moment.
Hearing the description alone made it sound excessive, but the image was simply beautiful. Reading the designer’s interview, which noted that the feathered peony had been his inspiration, my head nodded along.
‘Perhaps.’
Perhaps you still remember our shared past, even as you resent and hate me. Perhaps you’ve kept one fragment of memory in a corner of your heart.
Even knowing it couldn’t be so, I continued to trace my fingers over the image.
Clinging foolishly to the hope that I might somehow feel the soft, downy texture through the paper.

* * *

And the next day.
Unsurprisingly, Daimon stood me up. The urgent message that arrived at dawn was underwhelming, to say the least.
To summarize the verbose letter:
Something came up. I’m busy. Figure it out yourself.
“After making all that fuss, he really isn’t coming? This is ridiculous.”
As a result, I found myself dressed in a gown so heavy with jewels it was exhausting just to look at it, loaded into a carriage bound for the Imperial Palace.
I ground my teeth and tried desperately to find some comfortable position inside the carriage. Even with the palace just ahead, the dress remained as unwieldy as ever—it seemed the entire notion of sitting comfortably in such a thing was fundamentally impossible.
“‘A leopard cannot change its spots’—there’s a reason that saying exists.”
‘And I’ve missed another opportunity.’
My original plan had been to break things off with Daimon inside the carriage on the way to the Imperial Palace. If luck was on my side, he’d tell me not to attend the banquet at all. If not, I’d get away with a few stepped-on toes while dancing with a wounded ego.
The problem was that I couldn’t say goodbye to someone who wasn’t here.
‘Maybe I should drag him out to the Terrace and talk to him there.’
Though I’d have to make sure he didn’t cause a scene anywhere.
I desperately hoped Daimon would remember that we were never actually lovers.
I was racking my brain over when and how to broach the subject—a problem I’d never had before in my life—when the carriage lurched to a stop.
Without so much as a knock, the door flew open, and Daimon appeared right on cue.
“About time you arrived, Bella.”
Was I imagining things, or did it sound like he was scolding me for being late when he was the one who’d abandoned his escort duty?
“I arrived precisely on time.”
“Next time, try to be a little earlier. Those in positions of authority must set an example, after all.”
That wasn’t wrong, but coming from you?
I was too stunned to respond. But I soon understood why Daimon had made that pronouncement so loudly, making sure everyone within earshot could hear.
Just behind Daimon, not far away, sat a carriage bearing an unfamiliar crest—three profuse roses. It was the emblem of the Winston County, newly admitted into the Central Nobility.
Everyone was pretending not to notice, but all their attention was riveted in that direction. And no wonder—the man standing with his back to the carriage commanded attention by his silhouette alone.
Among nobles who wielded swords as ornament, here stood a man who’d earned the title of hero with a blade alone, and was now a nobleman besides. His very presence was different.
‘Ah.’
The moment he turned around, our eyes met across empty space. A flicker of irritation crossed those blood-red eyes. The habit of lifting the corners of his eyes whenever something displeased him remained unchanged.
What was bothering him?
I glanced around and suddenly understood.
‘It’s me.’
Riehardt wasn’t even trying to hide that he was looking at me. Today was essentially Sasha’s debut into society. No wonder he’d be in a foul mood after seeing his former lover.
Riehardt turned his head away sharply and bent toward Sasha in a gesture of consideration for their height difference that showed no trace of awkwardness.
At that fortuitous moment, attendants burst forth bearing torches, their light illuminating the path into the palace and casting a glow across Sasha’s animated face. In that instant, everyone present must have thought the same thing.
How perfectly they suited each other.
‘A hero always needs a princess, after all.’
Daimon felt it too, judging by the way his teeth ground audibly. His profile, fixed on the pair with an intense gaze, was ugly.
‘A princess falls for a hero, and there’s always a small-minded villain who envies that princess. It’s how these things go.’
The problem was that villain happened to be Daimon. Understanding something of my thoughts, he twisted his lips and gestured toward the back with his eyes.
“See? The world is full of thieves who appear out of nowhere and try to steal our place, Bella.”
“Sasha didn’t seem particularly interested in the throne, though.”
“Sasha? Really, Bella. You don’t need to pretend to be friendly with the princess when it’s just the two of us. You’ve only seen her face once, after all.”
I’m closer to her than you are.
Daimon didn’t wait for my response before seizing my hand. I didn’t resist.
Honestly, I doubted I could stand up on my own in this dress. But when Daimon moved to escort me with practiced ease, his brow furrowed.
“What’s wrong? Bella, have you put on weight?”
This bastard.
“The dress His Highness sent is made of such precious materials that it’s quite heavy, I’m afraid.”
“The weight of the dress?”
Then it must be my weight.
Daimon looked me over suspiciously, his gaze traveling from head to toe.
The dress was beautiful. The moment I stepped out of the carriage, for a brief moment all eyes had turned toward me. Honestly, if they’d sewn that many jewels into something and it still looked ugly, it would never have been stored in the Imperial Treasury all these years.
The problem was that they’d stitched those jewels so densely that I sparkled like a beacon even in the dead of night. Not to mention the weight.
“Didn’t you try the dress on before sending it?”
“Why would I do that? I had my attendants test it.”
How very thorough of you.
But Daimon didn’t question further whether I’d gained weight. Apparently, even he could see that the amount of jewels adorning the dress was considerable. He made a disapproving face and tsked, then spoke.
“Even so, can you manage a dance?”
“A first dance should be possible.”
If you were planning to make me dance multiple times in this monstrosity, then you truly have no conscience. Daimon studied me as if weighing his options, then tsked low.
“Tsk. You’re no help.”
You have no room to talk.
I wanted to throw the dress off and tell him to get lost, but I restrained myself.
Hold back. There are too many eyes here. If I was going to end this today without inviting strange rumors, I had to be careful.
Barely suppressing the urge to snap, I smiled softly and made a suggestion.
“Would you like me to change into a different dress?”
“Don’t bother. You need to wear that dress regardless, whether you dance or not.”
“……Is there a particular reason for that?”
“Yes. And keep smiling like that. I like it.”
Daimon pressed himself against my side and walked triumphantly past Riehardt and Sasha, even offering them a smile as if a victor were granting mercy to the vanquished.
To the casual eye, he appeared composed and at ease, yet those who knew Daimon would have sensed the turmoil beneath. He had never possessed much talent for masking his true feelings, then or now.
And Daimon never explained to me why I had to wear this suffocatingly heavy Dress until the Banquet began.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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