To My First Love, With Regret (Libenia) – Chapter 2

Author: Libenia Editor: Piki

“Good morning, Baron.”

As always, Ethan greeted the man lounging in the passenger seat with calm indifference.

The classmate addressed as “Baron” had both legs carelessly thrown over the car door in the posture of a street thug, yet somehow still managed to tilt his chin with aristocratic arrogance.

“Oh? Heading home too?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Want a ride?”

There wasn’t a single empty seat left in the car.

“There’s room in the trunk.”

“No thanks. What if he steals my limited-edition watch from my bag?”

“Blood’s thicker than water. That applies to bad blood too.”

“Ah, right. Can’t help it then. Let’s go, Ned.”

The four of them casually tossed insults back and forth while mocking him, as though humiliating Ethan was second nature by now.

Then the convertible’s rear tire slammed straight through a muddy puddle that hadn’t dried yet.

Splash.

Ethan reflexively stepped back, but filthy water still exploded across his face and clothes.

He quietly cursed under his breath while wiping muddy water from his cheek with the back of his hand.

“HAHAHAHA!”

Watching the black-haired idiot throw his head back laughing, Ethan slowly clenched his teeth.

Henry Sherwood Jr.

Son of the Duke of Kentrell.

Baron Langdon.

The future master of paradise looked neither handsome nor particularly impressive.

And maybe that was why people kept making the mistake of underestimating him.

One day, I’ll wipe that arrogance off your face.

Again and again, Ethan deceived himself with the same delusion.

I can beat him.
I can take everything from them.

But bringing House Kentrell to its knees was something only a king could accomplish.

For Ethan, it was nothing more than an impossible fantasy.

He couldn’t even escape the shadow of his own family.

He had truly believed leaving this miserable town and attending a distant university would free him from his father’s disgrace.

But that hope had shattered the moment he ended up attending the same university as someone from his hometown—

Someone powerful enough that Ethan couldn’t silence him.

Is this punishment for daring to step outside the path fate chose for me?

But Ethan Fairchild had never accepted the life of a criminal as his destiny.

Suddenly, he wanted a cigarette so badly it hurt.

His hand moved toward the jacket hanging over his arm—

Then froze.

His wallet.

He must’ve dropped it while dodging the muddy water.

It lay pitifully half-submerged in the puddle.

“…Shit.”

Ethan immediately snatched it up like he was rescuing a drowning lover.

Without caring that he was dirtying his freshly pressed jacket, he hurriedly wiped away the mud and filthy water.

The first thing he checked wasn’t his money.

Nor his identification.

It was a small folded piece of paper hidden deep inside.

A faded page that looked as though it had been torn from a sketchbook.

On one side was a drawing of his younger self.

When he turned it over, he found the girl again—

A girl dazzling enough to resemble a distant star.

Staring boldly back at him.

Fortunately, the muddy water hadn’t soaked through the paper.

The moment relief escaped his lips, Ethan almost laughed at himself.

Why am I still clinging to something this meaningless?

He pulled out a cigarette and lifted his gaze.

The mansion where the girl lived—

The girl he could never have had, even if he hadn’t been the son of a criminal—

Filled his vision once more.

But Ethan forcibly tore his eyes away.

Toward the lonely white lighthouse standing at the far edge of the cliffs.

Toward home.

“Father.”

The only person allowed to interrupt the Duke of Kentrell while he reviewed his freshly delivered correspondence and listened to music was his daughter.

“A reply from Major Eccleston?”

“My little Eve really notices everything.”

The duke had already begun opening the letter, but Eve snatched it from his hands first and immediately started reading.

Rather than scolding her rudeness, the duke merely laughed affectionately, as though he found her behavior adorable.

“‘…Thank you for your invitation, but we’ve already made plans to spend the summer at Costa Smeralda, so unfortunately we likely won’t be able to attend.’ Ah… what a shame.”

“Helena’s going to be devastated.”

Even Eve—who always claimed elegant but boring men weren’t her type—looked visibly disappointed.

“My kitten, instead of obsessing over someone else’s love life, why don’t you start worrying about your own marriage prospects?”

“You don’t understand, Father.”

The duke had no idea Eve wasn’t playing matchmaker simply because she sincerely wanted to help her friend’s hopeless crush.

Princess Helena had recently approached Eve with a proposal.

No—

A deal.

“Arrange for Edwin to spend the summer at your estate, and in return I’ll convince my mother to persuade your father.”

To send Eve to university.

Whether the cunning and fickle Helena would actually keep her promise was questionable, but to Eve, it was still a gamble worth taking.

Unfortunately, her father seemed to think otherwise.

“I truly did try to invite the major. Though honestly, I’m relieved we won’t have to spend the entire summer entertaining the crown princess.”

The duke let out an exaggerated sigh and attempted to rise from his chair, despite the conversation clearly not being over yet.

The moment a servant and nurse stepped forward to help him, Eve shot them such a cold glare that both immediately retreated.

“Then you should understand me too, Father.”

“Of course.”

“You understand that I don’t want to spend my entire summer trapped with Harry either, don’t you?”

Her twin brother was returning home from university today for summer break.

The Duke of Kentrell saw the trap his daughter had carefully laid before him—

And still stepped right into it willingly.

“Well then, let’s hear these other summer plans of yours.”

“Emily Sutherland invited me to spend the summer with her.”

“Where?”

“She has a villa in Tripiti, on the Halkidiki Peninsula.”

“A secluded place. Nice choice. Who else is going?”

“…She didn’t mention it.”

“Then let me guess.”

Silence.

“Students from the Royal College of Art. Possibly even a professor?”

Damn it.

He was right.

Emily—the friend who had gotten accepted into the art school Eve had always dreamed about—had secretly shown Eve’s sketches to one of the professors there.

After noticing her talent, the professor invited Eve to join the students on their sketching trip.

Obviously, if she’d told her father the truth, he never would’ve allowed it.

But she’d made the mistake of mentioning once before that Emily attended the Royal College of Art.

And naturally, her father remembered every detail.

The duke truly was an old fox.

“I’m not asking you to send me to university,” Eve argued desperately. “I just want to spend time with people who love art like I do. I want to paint and find inspiration. Surely you can allow me that much.”

“You’ll only pick up bad habits associating with students. And that so-called professor is probably just trying to flatter you so he can squeeze money out of me.”

Eve pressed her lips together tightly and glared at him.

Her blue eyes, ringed with gold around the pupils, only grew more mesmerizing whenever she was angry.

Some people found her gaze unsettling.

But every time the duke looked at her, all he felt was sorrow.

She looks exactly like her mother.

Not just the eyes.

That stubborn artist’s temperament too.

I have to break it before she turns into her mother completely.

The duke gently took his daughter’s pale hands into his own and stroked them soothingly.

But the affection in that touch was nothing more than control.

Like pulling weeds before they could ruin a beautiful garden.

“Eve, your father loves you dearly. But there are times when a parent must judge their child coldly.”

His voice remained painfully gentle.

“You don’t have talent in painting.”

Color rose instantly across Eve’s face.

But the duke continued his soft cruelty without pause.

“Your paintings have no depth. True art can only be created by someone who has suffered through life. But you’ve never known suffering.”

His hand stroked her fingers slowly.

“And I intend to make sure you never do. Otherwise, your father would never be able to die peacefully.”

“Because of you, I’ve suffered enough already.”

Her voice trembled violently through clenched teeth.

“Evelyn Anne Victoria Sherwood.”

The tone remained calm.

But the atmosphere changed instantly.

Calling her by her full name meant the conversation was no longer a joke.

“You’re too old to cling to childish fantasies. Your greatest priority now is marrying while I’m still alive.”

Only then could she marry with proper dignity as the precious daughter of the Duke of Kentrell.

She’d heard those words enough to make her sick.

“Do you think Harry will take care of you after I die?”

No.

Once their father was gone, her twin brother would become colder than a stranger.

Eve would probably lose even the inheritance reserved for her dowry.

“Eve. Before I die, I want to see you wearing the Laurel Tiara as a bride.”

The symbolic heirloom of the family.

And the most expensive jewel belonging to her inheritance.

Once Harry inherited the dukedom, even that would no longer belong to her.

“Oh, and among Harry’s friends arriving today, the eldest son of Prime Minister Bingham is apparently quite handsome and well-mannered. I also heard the Crown Prince of Rosenholm may be coming.”

The duke smiled faintly.

“How about becoming a queen and gaining a kingdom of your own?”

“You were just lecturing me about associating with students.”

Eve yanked her hands free and abruptly turned away.

She left the room empty-handed, having achieved nothing.

The moment she stepped into the hallway, Becky—the maid waiting outside—spoke quietly.

“My lady, Baron Langdon and his friends have just arrived.”

“I know.”

Eve’s voice turned icy.

“The air in this house suddenly became vulgar. It was impossible not to notice.”

As if on cue, the four men appeared near the staircase at the end of the corridor, heading toward them.

The moment Harry spotted Eve, he looked instantly annoyed.