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Episode 65

  • Writer: Jela
    Jela
  • Aug 4, 2025
  • 6 min read

#11. Even After 120 Days

At that very hour, the capital buzzed with one topic: the rumors surrounding the Duchess of Bellona and Marcus Hanger.

At a boutique frequented by the Deveres family, Marcus Hanger had allegedly stormed in with a barefoot, scantily clad beauty and lavished upon her every manner of garment and accessory. And immediately after, the one who burst into the shop was none other than the Duchess of Bellona herself—driving out all patrons with a fearsome, almost tyrannical presence.

Among those unfortunate enough to be present was Lady Legacy, one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting. Offended by the Duchess’s high-handed dismissal, she discreetly followed her—and thus, bore witness to the scandalous scene.

A confrontation between the Duchess of Bellona and Marcus Hanger, over a stunning young commoner girl.

Inside a room meant to host only the most distinguished clientele, the two shouted fiercely at one another, seemingly indifferent to the fact that the door had been left ajar. Though Lady Legacy, from her cautious vantage point, couldn’t decipher the exact words and would lament that for the rest of her life, even the deaf could have grasped the spectacle unfolding.

Marcus Hanger and the Duchess of Bellona stood sharply opposed, quarreling over a golden-haired, blue-eyed girl. The girl had raised her foot and shouted with pride—that Marcus had bought her shoes.

That much Lady Legacy managed to understand before she was graciously escorted out by the boutique staff. She knew exactly who would most enjoy such news, and despite being on leave, made time to visit the palace two days later in the afternoon.

As expected, the royal couple—ever fond of gossip—were delighted, clapping their hands in glee. With a touch of exaggeration, one could say the Queen rolled forward and backward in sheer amusement.

“She called out to Marcus Hanger at the top of her lungs?”

“I witnessed it myself, Your Majesty.”

The King’s eyes sparkled. Most men his age had dulled with time, but when it came to stories like this, he gleamed with youthful vigor.

“So Marcus Hanger seduced the Duchess’s lady lover!”

“Good heavens, they say a dog can't change its spots! He’s been quiet in society for some time now, but it seems the son of the Hanger family has finally extended his claws to yet another maiden!”

The Queen burst into hearty laughter.

“And that maiden turns out to be the Duchess of Bellona’s own mistress!”

“How can something this entertaining happen?”

“Perhaps heaven, seeing our boredom, has sent us this gift. I can already imagine Archibald turning crimson in the face!”

The King chuckled to himself at the thought of his favorite merchant. Unlike those boastful nobles who contributed not a penny, Archibald—with his clarity and composure—was someone the King genuinely appreciated. Yet the old man frequently ended up tugging at his beard in frustration over his son, and it was clear this time would be no exception.

“This time, I must ask him!”

“Ask him what?”

“About Marcus’s wife’s infamous cough! They said it was incurable, didn’t they? I’ll have to ask Archibald whether his daughter-in-law is a brunette or a blonde!”

Even the ladies-in-waiting stifled giggles at that. Perhaps, at long last, the much-rumored cough of the Hanger wife would be cured.

Everyone spent the afternoon believing—of course—that such a thing was impossible.

That evening, a letter arrived announcing that Archibald Hanger would be attending the next day’s World Exposition conference in place of Marcus. Far from being alarmed, the King was thrilled.

And the King’s prediction proved entirely correct. Moreover, new rumors began circulating: that Marcus Hanger had leapt over the wall of the Duchess of Bellona’s townhouse. The tale gained traction thanks to the second son of the Dahlron family, who happened to pass by the townhouse that very day.

Archibald Hanger caught wind of the rumors—now engulfing the capital—a week later. Naturally, it was his proud eldest daughter, Gloria Deveres, who brought them to him.

Gloria had heard a summary of the boutique incident from one of the employees and had rushed by carriage to her family home. Raising three children at once had dulled her ability to keep up with gossip—a regret she would carry to her grave. The moment she confirmed Marcus was absent from the Hanger estate, she relayed everything to her father in excruciating detail.

“Father, I told you! That scoundrel hasn’t changed one bit! You should revise your will immediately—”

Despite her sharp tongue, Gloria Deveres wasn’t particularly fond of the inheritance tied up with ‘Elouise Hanger.’

If Elouise were out of the picture, the Hanger family fortune might indeed come to her—but she was the matron of the Deveres house. The Hanger wealth neither dazzled her nor seemed worth coveting. If anything, she was a hundred times more concerned about her brother ending up penniless and out on the street.

Archibald groaned, then summoned Marcus.

And when the person who arrived turned out to be not Marcus but Logan, he grew irritated. “Marcus!”

Logan replied with his usual calm, “Upon hearing that his wife’s cough had been cured, he boarded a train a week ago to bring her back.”

Archibald and Gloria stared in disbelief.

“What did you say? Explain yourself properly.”

Despite being a regular at that boutique, even Gloria hadn’t learned the details of what transpired inside—discretion and trust being essential in such establishments.

So even she was merely guessing. Naturally, she now turned to Logan for a full account.

With a sigh, Logan explained.

“We found Lady Elouise Starwood.”

“What!”

Archibald sprang from his seat.

Logan proceeded calmly. Elouise had been residing in the duchy of Bellona, and through some strange twist of fate, had come under the Duchess’s care.

As Logan concluded his account, saying that Marcus had departed in haste to the duchy a week ago, Archibald pressed a palm to his forehead. So his son, the very center of these rumors, had stirred the entire capital simply by going in search of his wife.

Should I be proud of the boy, or ashamed?

Archibald didn’t know. That the eyes of the world followed his son’s every move was a boon to any merchant—but at that moment, Archibald felt like cursing all merchants to hell.

What kind of life had his son led to cause every action to be so easily misinterpreted? After much contemplation, Archibald asked Logan,

“You’re certain he went to retrieve his wife?”

Logan bowed respectfully.

“I am.”

“Would you stake a month’s salary on it?”

Logan flinched.

“Sir?”

Archibald clicked his tongue.

“Logan, I know my son well. And you know him, too. He’s the sort who enters walking sideways and exits upright. Who’s to say he won’t return not with his wife, but with a new one?”

Logan sighed. The lack of credibility surrounding Marcus was truly astonishing.

“He did go to find his wife. I’ll wager a month’s salary.”

He wasn’t lying—so he placed the bet.

Logan’s salary, after all, was among the highest in the capital. He never squandered or mentioned it lightly. Anyone who knew him would understand just how serious this commitment was.

But Archibald was, undeniably, Marcus’s father.

“And if he doesn’t bring back Lady Elouise?”

“…Pardon?”

“Logan, this boy’s the same fool who kept losing her over and over!”

Soon, Logan was treated to a full-blown lecture on the dangers of staking everything on blind faith. When he protested that a month’s salary wasn’t everything, Gloria cut in sharply.

“You act like your salary is your life. You can’t be offended when people treat you that way.”

Logan fell silent—it was hard to argue.

Then Archibald asked again,

“How much would you wager that he actually brings her back?”

“Sir?”

“A year’s salary, perhaps?”

Logan panicked. He began to protest, detailing how enormous his yearly wages were, but Gloria, filing her nails, struck again.

“My poor brother. Not even his secretary believes in him.”

Archibald scoffed. Logan started feeling a little bad for Marcus.

That sympathy evaporated instantly.

With a bang, the door burst open and Marcus strode in.

“Logan! I’m disappointed! After all the raises I gave you?”

The three in the study all turned their wide eyes toward the entrance. Marcus, having purposely slammed the already half-open door for dramatic effect, grinned broadly.

“I’ve returned, Father!”

“Marcus.”

Archibald raised a brow. Marcus had entered alone. The son he’d believed had gone to retrieve his wife stood there empty-handed, prompting Archibald to cast a meaningful glance at Logan. Logan brazenly raised his chin.

“I never said I’d place the bet.”

“Oh, Logan. You should have. I would’ve given you tenfold.”

Marcus replied, smiling brightly. Archibald narrowed his eyes at his son.

“Is it true?”

“It’s true!”

No need to say I brought her back. Gloria and Archibald already knew. From the moment Marcus stepped into that room, they sensed he had regained everything he’d lost.

Marcus Hanger had recovered the cheerfulness, brightness, joy, and ease he had once possessed three years ago. His cheekbones remained sharp, but happiness rested upon them. His eyes were full of laughter.

“Why did you come alone?”

“She’s buying clothes!”

“…You think clothes matter right now?”

“They matter greatly!

Marcus declared proudly that the woman he adored could not possibly appear before her father-in-law wearing a stained apron and worn leather shoes.

He added that though he found her beautiful even in torn garments, her opinion was law—and he proudly obeyed.

Gloria covered her forehead. She’d thought her brother was just an idiot, but it turned out he was also an utter fool for love. In that moment, she wasn’t sure whether to thank or resent Elouise, whom she had never even met.

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Baddies Abode

Simply a baddie supplying the rest of the baddies with the tea. Enjoy, chi.

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