Chapter 4

Dante jumped.

"Gwen, I… I see you as my sister! I thought that's what we were—found siblings!" he protested, his heart hammering. "I can't believe you've been that kind of girl all along!"

Gwendolyn laughed. "Oh, look at you panicking! This was a test, Danny, and you passed with flying colors! Now I know exactly what kind of man you are."

Dante let out a loud sigh and sank onto the couch. "Jeez, Gwen! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Gwendolyn rose and moved toward the door. "Oops! Anyway, it's getting late. You should get some sleep. Be up by eight—I'm taking you somewhere fun tomorrow."

She closed the door lightly.

…

Dante slept soundly. He had always been able to sleep long and well. He had no idea that his beloved Gwendolyn, his "found sister," had spent the entire night awake.

He rose at the first hint of dawn.

Athos had always told him he was talentless. The Ladies all possessed unique gifts, but Dante had none. His only path lay in hard work and effort.

He had taken those words to heart, which was why he started his mornings with a run.

Most of the city still slept. The few awake at this hour were like Dante—people with more to catch up on in life: delivery men, truckers, hawkers, and countless others trading their time, youth, and energy for a shot at an easier future.

He remembered what Athos had said. The world once rewarded passion, sincerity, and straightforward ambition. Those were the days when one put their heart on their sleeve and made friends with it.

Now, the world demanded connections and the knowledge of which buttons to push. It was about navigating social games, befriending the right people. Athos had lamented that the world was no longer theirs.

Dante had become a cunning smooth talker, precisely because his master had trained him to survive in this new, confounding world.

He headed to the shore of Audraco's moat and found a comfortable spot to meditate. He had barely settled when he noticed someone at a distance.

A young woman with a figure similar to Gwendolyn's stood near the water. She seemed more reserved, more composed, displaying a maturity Gwendolyn lacked.

Her raven-black hair billowed in the wind as she stared into the river's violent currents. The wind revealed the uncanny paleness of her face.

"Excuse me, but please step back from the shore. It's dangerous this close to the river," Dante called out, rising. He suspected she might be considering ending her life.

The young woman glanced at him disinterestedly. 'Ah, quite the strapping young man. He looks so innocent…'

She said nothing about her intentions. Instead, she sized him up. "Will you save me if I jump?"

Dante blinked, surprised by her calm confirmation of his suspicion. He grinned cheekily. "You could jump a hundred times, and I'd still leap in to save a beautiful damsel in distress."

"Oh, is that it? Just because I'm beautiful?"

"Yeap. According to novels, a damsel always falls for the hero who saves her life. 'My hero! I shall marry you!'" Dante replied, stepping closer. If she jumped, he would be ready. "Why would I object?"

The woman's lips curved slightly as she brushed back her hair. "No, that won't happen. We aren't of the same social status. Besides…"

"Besides what?"

Loneliness and pain shadowed her features, but she plastered a practiced smile over them. "No one is brave enough to love me."

It was a curse to be too beautiful.

"You don't need to worry about me. I just wanted to clear my head," she said, shooting another glance at Dante. "Now go. I don't want him to see you."

Dante frowned. "Him?"

A black car arrived a short distance away, and a middle-aged man emerged. Dante recognized him: George Wagner.

"They told me you threw a tantrum," George said flatly. "I knew I'd find you here."

"Well, what do you expect from a woman? Mood swings are part of our charm," the woman teased, linking her arm with his. "Let's go. The celebration is about to start."

Near the car, George finally looked at Dante. "You know him?"

She smiled faintly. "No. Just a kindhearted young man. He thought I was suicidal and tried to stop me. How adorable."

George glared at Dante. "Don't even think about it, boy. Some things are beyond your reach, including certain women. I know what you were trying. Don't."

He placed his arm around the woman's waist, pulled her close, and left.

Dante shrugged and returned to the Beaumont estate.

No sooner had he entered his room than Gwendolyn burst in. "Danny! Where did you go?!"

Dante, now in a worn shirt, replied, "I went for a jog. What's the matter?"

"I thought I told you we're going somewhere fun," Gwendolyn grumbled.

"I remembered! Is it going to be full of food again?!"

"Duh! Come on, we're going to be late! Dad and Grandpa have already left!"

Gwendolyn regarded the outing with serious importance. She grabbed Dante's hand, and they ran.

…

The Audracolian Feast Day was a festival unique to the city. According to Gwendolyn, it had lasted more than three centuries. At its inception, the region had been dry and impoverished, making it a harsh place for settlers seeking to establish a community.

The Feast Day was born as a plea to the saints and gods, hoping for rainfall and bountiful crops. Over time, it evolved into a celebration of local faith and optimism for the city's future.

The Beaumonts led Audraco. Naturally, they bore the greatest responsibility for maintaining traditions and safeguarding the city's welfare. During Feast Day, every elite family gathered to reinforce their bonds for the good of Audraco.

Marcus Beaumont, the leader of the family and Gwendolyn's grandfather, had been in high spirits—until he learned that Eric had been badly beaten the day before. His expression darkened.

"Dante did that?" Lambert asked, his face stern. "How serious was it?"

"He's mostly fine, but the Wagners are furious. They see it as proof that the Beaumonts are untrustworthy because their family head reneged on a promise. They framed it as… Well…" the underling trailed off.

"As me breaking my promise while using Dante as a hired thug? As if I'm humiliating the Wagners?" Marcus continued.

"Uh… yes."

"Tsk. The Wagners set me up that night. They knew alcohol is the one mistress I cannot refuse and got me drunk. Then, while I was wasted, they manipulated me into agreeing to their absurd arrangement! There was no way I would have consented sober!" Marcus sneered.

Everyone knew Eric—arrogant, womanizing, lazy, and utterly unambitious. He was inferior to Gwendolyn in every conceivable way.

"Grandpa! We're here!"

Gwendolyn and Dante arrived hand-in-hand. She ignored the stunned, wide-eyed stares from the elite families, precisely as she intended.

She was out of Eric's league. More importantly, the rumors were true: Gwendolyn had found herself a boyfriend.

"How could you?!" Eric was the first to step forward, predictably furious. "Why bring that shameless interloper here?! You just want to humiliate me and my family, you wrench!"

"You have no right to accuse my daughter of crimes she did not commit or to use such language toward her!" Lambert thundered. "For the record, we never formally agreed to the marriage!"

Eric shrank back behind his father and whined, "Dad, I told you! Gwendolyn is doing all this to me!"

"Mr. Marcus, is this how the Beaumonts should behave? Allowing your granddaughter and this stranger to disrespect someone of equal rank?" George demanded, glaring at Dante.

No wonder he instinctively hated this brat. His gut had warned him that this was the one who had struck his son.

"Sometimes, young men get into trouble," Marcus said calmly, studying Eric's pudgy face.

He had not expected Dante to act as he had secretly hoped, and the old man felt a surge of gratitude. Dante had delivered the retribution Marcus had been denied by the Wagners.

"What's that supposed to mean?" George growled, gritting his teeth. "That you are excusing a serious grievance? Are you saying my son should simply endure being brutalized by that boy?"

Marcus narrowed his eyes. "What do you propose?"

"I want him on his knees. I want a public apology!" Eric shouted. "And I want him to leave Gwendolyn alone because she's mine!"

Marcus turned to Dante, who had been focused entirely on the feast preparations. He could hardly wait to see what the young man would do. "Did you hear that, boy?"

"Dante? Dante! Snap out of it!" Gwendolyn whispered frantically, tugging his hand.

"Oh, yes! What did you say, Grandpa Marcus?" Dante finally called out.

"Eric wants you on your knees to apologize. What do you think?"

"Did he say that?" Dante hummed, narrowing his eyes mischievously while studying Eric, who immediately trembled.

Dante leaned close and whispered in Eric's ear, "Can you repeat that? I didn't catch it the first time."

"I-I want you to apologize! What's wrong with that?" Eric said, his bravado barely masking his nerves.

Dante smiled. He seemingly prepared to bend his knee… only to remove his shoe and strike Eric squarely in the face.