“What…?”

When boarding the carriage, he had secretly told the coachman to go home first.

“The coachman will escort Your Highness safely to the end.”

With those final words, Valentine got out of the carriage.

And without looking back, he walked towards the main gate of the mansion.

—

Farewell, brief peace

—

More than a month passed after that.

As he had promised himself and the Countess, Valentine diligently attended several social events.

The charity concert at the Osborn Count’s house, where he met the 3rd Prince Clifton, gave Valentine many realizations.

First, the very next day, a gift arrived from the 3rd Prince. It was a beautiful bouquet of flowers, but as soon as he saw it, he handed it over to his mother who was with him. Just imagining those flowers decorating his room gave him chills.

[It seems he regrets the engagement falling through.]

Even the Countess said this with a cold face.

Despite having a beloved partner, Clifton had been quietly waiting for the engagement with Valentine like an obedient son to Empress Beatrice. And it was revealed that he had planned to monopolize all the various benefits that came with it.

A predator wanting to catch two rabbits without any conscience.

He seemed to feel no guilt about it. Rather, he made an unpleasant approach to prevent his ‘perfect plan’ from falling apart and to catch Valentine, the fish that got away.

‘If he was going to regret it, he shouldn’t have shown such obvious contempt.’

Of course, no matter how well Clifton might have treated him, Valentine would have gone in the completely opposite direction in life to avoid meeting him at all costs. He really was a bastard without conscience.

‘It’s more shocking that he thought he could easily get engaged after showing such obvious contempt.’

That confidence befitting the protagonist of the original novel made Valentine’s teeth clench.

“If I’m going to get dragged in no matter what…”

Valentine mumbled to himself, placing the book he had been reading askew on his stomach. Lying down to organize his thoughts and worries was Valentine’s long-standing habit.

“I have no choice but to avoid them…”

Valentine was now fully acknowledging his own gullibility and naivety.

Thinking of the 3rd Prince couple he despised, how many times had he vowed never to get involved again? But he had completely realized that no matter what resolutions he made, he was the kind of gullible person who found it difficult to properly carry them out.

‘I should have noticed when Dalton was so anxious about me and kept me close while raising me…!’

Indeed, the one who knows a person’s basic temperament and tendencies best is the guardian who raised them directly.

So Dalton’s excessive worry had always been justified.

He was gullible.

A king of gullibility, at that.

No matter how much he tried to avoid or stand firm, if the other party pushed harder, he was indeed the type to get flustered and swept along.

‘Then there’s only one way.’

More complete avoidance. He had some expertise in this from before.

“Running away isn’t shameful.”

Valentine rationalized to himself, patting the spine of the book lying on his stomach.

If he didn’t encounter them at all, whatever tricks they tried would be useless. So he just needed to be careful not to meet and talk alone with them like before.

‘And rumors might have already spread.’

He had been at ease because it happened in a place with few people, but if Evener found out that he had ridden in a carriage with Clifton to go home together, it would surely cause trouble. He might be stigmatized again as trying to steal someone else’s alpha, and face all kinds of contempt from Evener and others. Just in case, it was necessary to completely avoid encountering them.

It was about preventing events that could become causes in advance.

Valentine lived the past month with such thoughts. He received guest lists in advance for gatherings he wanted to attend and completely excluded those where Clifton and Evener might attend.

The first event he attended was Viscount Pockland’s book discussion club.

This gathering was too small for Clifton to gain any political benefit by attending, not befitting a prince’s status, and as far as he knew, the host, Viscount Pockland, had no connection to Evener.

Next, he joined a hunting gathering led by Dalton’s academy classmates.

Since this wasn’t an open gathering to begin with, he felt at ease and enjoyed horseback riding with Dalton for a few days. It was an open secret that he wasted bullets into the air and didn’t catch a single prey.

Then he attended a gathering hosted by Duchess Downshire with his mother.

He had just returned from being surrounded by ladies, crocheting lace. He could feel at ease because it was a gathering of ladies or omegas like himself, and the Heatherfield Duke’s family was politically opposed to Clifton’s faction.

He attended only similar gatherings besides these.

And except for days with mass or when he was out all day for social gatherings, he spent time in his studio every day without fail. Valentine realized that he had been completely distracted by other matters since returning to his homeland and regretted resting for too long. He repeatedly practiced to loosen his stiff hands while painting.

And he spent all the time not devoted to drawing practice on eating.

“The kitchen has made a lot of strawberry jam, which the young master likes. Shall I bring some?”

Dawson, who had quietly entered after knocking, asked Valentine. It was excessive kindness for the lazy young master sitting languidly like a fat cat on the couch in his bedroom, basking in the morning sunlight while reading a book.

Come to think of it, it was already the end of strawberry season.

Valentine picked up the book that had been lying on his stomach and flipped through the pages, making them flutter. Then, after glancing out the window, he said reflectively:

“It’s already time to make jam…”

“May is almost over.”

He had returned just as spring was beginning, but time had passed quickly.

“The jam is made with whole strawberry pieces intact, right? Not mashed.”

“Of course. The chef wouldn’t have forgotten the young master’s preference.”

The young master who liked jam with chewy, unmashed strawberry pieces. Dawson’s lips curled up as he recalled the angelically cute childhood days. The eyes that had been drowsy lit up at the mention of strawberry jam, just as they always had.

As soon as he heard this, Valentine nodded vigorously, feeling his mouth water. He had thought he wasn’t particularly hungry… Was it because he had eaten breakfast in a hurry due to not feeling well? Anyway, he enthusiastically agreed, welcoming anything sweet.

“Then what about dessert?”

If it’s strawberry jam, there should be bread or dessert to spread it on.

“I heard they baked cream roll cake today.”

A cream roll cake made by baking a fluffy sponge cake, then filling it with white cream made from fresh, high-quality butter and rolling it up… Excellent. Fresh cream was good, but thicker buttercream was no less delightful. It was more than enough to ensure Valentine’s happiness at this moment.

“If it’s roll cake, bring syrup instead of jam! I’m sure Gavin made strawberry syrup too.”

“Understood.”

Chef Gavin knew well that Valentine liked all kinds of desserts made with strawberries. So every year, when strawberries were at the end of their season, he made various preserves that could be stored for a long time. Strawberry syrup for making strawberry ade, strawberry jam, strawberry syrup made from skimming the foam while making jam, chewy strawberry compote made by slightly drying and then simmering in sugar again…

All of these were filled with the chef’s affection, knowing the young master’s tastes well.

Dawson quickly prepared cream roll cake, strawberry syrup, and afternoon tea. He began to skillfully set them on the table.

As soon as the plate was set on the table, Valentine couldn’t resist and immediately picked up the small bottle containing the syrup. He then poured it generously over the roll cake, which was sliced to an appropriate thickness. The clear, deep pink syrup with a sticky consistency flowed down the bread, soaking into it softly like a sponge.

Gulp.

Unable to wait for it to soak in completely, Valentine cut a bite-sized piece of the bread with his dessert fork held vertically and immediately put it in his mouth.

“Yes… I missed this taste…”

With each chew, the strawberry syrup that had soaked into the bread spread sweetly throughout his mouth. The taste harmonizing with the buttercream was also exquisite.

It was a taste he hadn’t experienced throughout his time in Sorrenche.

Back then, he didn’t even think about diligently enjoying seasonal foods or delicious things. It was a time focused solely on living each day as it came.

And he tried not to think about anything related to his homeland. He thought that if he recalled such things, he might want to return home immediately. Crying and clinging to Dalton, begging to be sent back.

Such things must never happen, so Valentine pushed these thoughts to a corner of his mind and tried not to think about them, living each day diligently. Adapting to the food in Sorrenche, thinking only of his studies and painting, figuring out how to learn more and fill himself up, busy days preparing ways to live on.

And all of that had meaning.

The combination of those things formed a better Valentine, and returning at the most opportune time ultimately allowed him to avoid the path to a ruinous ending. Valentine grinned, recalling his engagement to Clifton which he had completely destroyed. For more than a month since the engagement was broken off, Valentine had been extremely free and peaceful.

“From now on, only sunny days will come in my life.”

Valentine mumbled, sipping the strong black tea that Dawson had sensibly brewed with a bitter taste, washing down the sweetness in his mouth.

“I’m not sure about sunny days coming, but diabetes seems likely to come.”

“What?”

Valentine tilted his head.

Why would that come? Only sunny days should come!

“Haven’t you noticed recently?”

“Noticed what?”

“You’ve been craving sweets tremendously lately. Not only do you have dessert regularly every time, but you also have it in between like this.”

“I did?”

“Yes. As a result, you get full on desserts and can’t eat proper meals well.”

“It’s not so much that I’m full, but the food seems to smell a bit strong… Has the supplier for ingredients changed?”