The Reason Why the Forsaken Fake Returned Chapter 63

Everything was going smoothly. The moment Albert spoke to him, Caleb sneered inwardly at the nobles who came flocking to him. Like migratory birds changing nests with the seasons, people always moved in whatever direction would profit them most at the time. In their heads, they were endlessly weighing him against Albert.

 

“Your Highness, to see you grown so tall and dignified. It’s truly moving.”

 

“Indeed. This is my first time seeing you since you were a child, and you really do take after the late queen.”

 

“I’ve always wondered how you came by the business acumen you showed when you were Baron Cal. Was it the natural result of growing up under your maternal grandfather, one of the great, foremost men of wealth?”

 

Those who had only been watching for an opening now rushed to outdo one another in flattery. Caleb only half-listened, pretending to follow the conversation, then stole a sidelong glance at Shailoh. She had taken the glass Albert handed her, exchanged a few words with him, and her cheeks were already flushed, as if she were drunk.

 

“She can’t even hold her liquor.” Caleb clicked his tongue before he realized it, excused himself from the nobles he’d been speaking with, and started toward Shailoh. He was just about to reach her when someone caught hold of his collar.

 

“Where are you going, Your Highness?”

 

Turning his head, Caleb looked coolly at the person holding him. It was Octavia, standing beside him as if she were his real fiancée.

 

“Miss Griche seems a little drunk. She’s my partner, so I’ll go check on her.”

 

“Then what about me?” Octavia’s eyes went wide as she spouted something ridiculous. “Are you planning to leave me all alone?”

 

“Lady Perus.” Caleb removed her hand and sighed inwardly. A faint reek of alcohol wafted from her. It seemed she’d been tossing back drinks the whole time he was talking with the people who had gathered around him. “You’re quite drunk. You should rest in the lounge for now. I’ll let Albert know.”

 

“Please take me there yourself, Your Highness.”

 

At her brazen demand, the people watching sucked in a quick breath. As if there were no better entertainment than this, several pairs of eyes lit up and fixed on the two of them.

 

Caleb raked a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

 

“Your Highness?”

 

“I’ll take you myself.”

 

Trying to get close to her so he could break off her engagement with Albert and pry out information connected to Duke Perus had been a mistake. He’d known from the start that she was sheltered and a bit empty‑headed, but his biggest miscalculation was not realizing she was the type who, drunk or not, would openly flirt with her fiancé’s older brother in public.

 

Dragging his feet, Caleb set off, summoned Octavia’s maid to come along, and then, with the drunken woman in tow, headed for the lounge.

 

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

 

He helped the staggering Octavia to the couch and sat her down, and his shoulders felt lighter, as if he’d just shrugged off a heavy load. Dusting off his hands, Caleb gave the maid her orders. “It seems your mistress is so drunk she can’t even tell up from down. Stay with her here for a while, then call someone to take her home.”

 

“Yes. Thank you, Your Highness.” The maid clasped her hands and bowed deeply.

 

Casting her a brief glance, Caleb opened the lounge door and walked back toward the ballroom almost at a run. For some reason, his heart was pounding, and his mouth had gone dry. A nameless sense of foreboding gnawed at him. He was almost back when someone called out to stop him.

 

“Your Highness. Where are you going?”

 

Caleb turned and recognized the man. “Benjamin.”

 

“The feast is already laid out before you, isn’t it? This is your chance to stain Lady Perus’s reputation and have this engagement called off.”

 

“You’re telling me to lay hands on my brother’s fiancée?” Caleb’s brow furrowed as if he’d just heard the most ridiculous joke.

 

“Since when have you started worrying about means and methods?”

 

“The most important thing is that she breaks this match of her own will. Not because I was clearly involved.”

 

Benjamin watched him in silence for a moment, then abruptly asked. “Is that really the only reason?”

 

“What are you trying to say?”

 

“Isn’t the reason you look so on edge right now because of Sasha Griche?”

 

“Count Benjamin Dwibon.” Caleb’s voice dropped at the out‑of‑line probing.

 

Count Dwibon lowered his gaze and took a step back. “I understand for now. There’s no need to make an enemy of Duke Perus this instant, I suppose. But, Your Highness, don’t forget that gaining something precious is the same as gaining a weakness.”

 

Instead of answering, Caleb shot him a frosty look, opened the door, and went back to the ballroom. But no matter how he searched, Shailoh was nowhere to be seen. Eric, whom he’d ordered to keep an eye on her from a distance, was being detained by someone.

 

When Caleb approached, their eyes met over Eric’s troubled expression. Eric introduced the man he’d been speaking with. “Your Highness, this is Lord Evan Diponz.”

 

The man lifted his head and inclined it in greeting. “Nice to meet you.”

 

“Evan Diponz?” Caleb muttered the name, his brows knitting.

 

The eldest son and the heir of the Diponz family. The man who had once wrapped his hands around Shailoh’s throat. On top of that, he’d pinned a murder charge on her. A truly vicious bastard. A member of the Diponz family, who had been covertly backing Queen Ingrid and checking him from the shadows, had brazenly come up to the castle and was now shamelessly approaching him. He must have seen Shailoh singing.

 

Caleb wondered if he had recognized her, or if perhaps they had already crossed paths. But instead of rashly revealing his hand, Caleb smiled gently. “A pleasure. The west must be at its busiest with iron ore mining and exports right now, yet you still managed to come up.”

 

“You’re just as I’ve heard. They said you’d been abroad, yet you’re well‑versed in domestic affairs.”

 

“I have an acquaintance from the west.” Of course, by that acquaintance, he meant Shailoh.

 

At his roundabout attempt to probe him, Evan gave a faint smile. “Is that so? You’re right, this is the busiest season in the west. But today is the third prince’s birthday, isn’t it? And I heard the second prince has returned as well, so I came up to pay my respects.” His answer flowed out as smoothly as if he’d rehearsed it, and Caleb’s lips curved.

 

“I see. Since you’ve come all this way, I hope you gain plenty of valuable experience and go back with only pleasant memories.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Judging from his immediate reaction, there was a chance he hadn’t recognized Shailoh. Relieved, Caleb was about to wrap up the conversation there when Evan abruptly changed the subject.

 

“Your Highness. If you don’t mind, could I borrow your insight and ask for your advice on something?”

 

“Advice? What kind of advice?”

 

“Your Highness, there’s a stray cat we took in at our house, but it ran away and hasn’t come back.”

 

It was a loaded question.

 

Caleb replied mildly. “I’m curious why that cat bolted from the house in the first place.”

 

“Because one day it bit the hand that fed it. I scolded it a bit for that, and it got angry and ran away from home. That’s not all.”

 

“Not all?”

 

“It found a new owner in no time and is now curled up in that owner’s arms, baring its claws.”

 

Caleb’s turquoise eyes deepened shade by shade, then for an instant flashed pitch‑black.

 

Evan shook his head slowly, then asked in an earnest tone. “In that case, what should one do? What would you do, Your Highness?”

 

“If it were me, I’d let the cat go.”

 

“Let it go?”

 

“It was a stray from the start, wasn’t it? Thinking a person took it in and tamed it would be arrogance.”

 

“…Arrogance, huh,” Evan murmured, his eyes narrowing. “I suppose that could be true. But it’s a problem.”

 

“A problem?”

 

“That cat actually ran off holding on to something important to the family. I have to find it somehow. What should I offer the new owner to get the cat back?”

 

Evan Diponz knew Shailoh. He also knew that she was here under the name Sasha Griche. So what he was really asking, what he was provoking Caleb to answer, was what price he’d have to pay to make Shailoh’s new owner hand her over.

 

“I couldn’t say. I’ve never been in that situation myself.”

 

Tension stretched between the two men like a taut wire.

 

Evan was the first to speak. “I see. Thank you for humoring such a strange question.” He held out his hand.

 

Caleb took it. “Think nothing of it. But if I were that new owner…” His grip tightened.

 

Evan waited for him to go on, his expression unchanged.

 

Caleb dipped his head slightly and murmured in his ear, “If anyone laid a hand on what’s mine without my permission, I’d cut off their wrist and put out their eyes. Evan Diponz.”

 

“…Your Highness?” Sensing something was off in the charged air, Eric stepped in.

 

The two men released their clasped hands almost at the same time.

 

“Thank you for your insight.”

 

“It was nothing. Then, if you’ll excuse me.”

 

Caleb gave a faint smile, then spoke quietly to Eric. “Eric. Keep Evan Diponz here. Just like he tried to do with me.”

 

“What?”

 

Evan’s eyes flew wide in alarm.

 

“Where is Shailoh?”

 

“Well, I saw her talking with the Duke of Cornwall…”

 

“I told you not to take your eyes off her.”

 

“I’m sorry, there are so many people here, and—”

 

Caleb clicked his tongue and moved past him. As he disappeared into the crowd, a sharp gaze tracked his retreating back.