Muir’s smug expression turned toward Emma as if daring her to contradict her.
“But Emma-sama, your former fiancée… you’re so gloomy and quiet, people don’t know what you’re thinking. Everyone says that’s why they don’t like you. Nick is much kinder, I think.”
Margit, about to release a sharp retort, was stopped by Shiller’s raised hand.
“Nick is kind? In what way?”
Shiller asked gently, as though speaking to a child. Pleased by the attention, Muir clasped her hands before her chest and began speaking dreamily.
“He’s always helping me. He tutors me, takes me to the places I want to visit, and whenever I’m in trouble, he buys me whatever I need—dresses, shoes, even jewelry. Once, when I was upset over Emma-sama’s harassment, he brought me flowers every day! Isn’t he so kind?”
Indeed, Nick’s actions were kind—toward Muir, at least.
But that behavior was that of a lover, not mere kindness.
“That is very kind of him,” Shiller said with a smile. “And what is Nick to you?”
“Oh, he’s my friend! My very kind and extra-special friend!”
Nick’s frantic attempts to silence Muir with a sharp glare went unnoticed. Shiller’s eyes narrowed, his amusement apparent.
— “An extra-special friend? Receiving dresses and jewelry?”
— “She sounds more like a mistress than a friend.”
— “They even use intimate names with each other. Was that what the love declaration was for?”
— “No, he couldn’t leave Emma, so he blamed her instead!”
“By the way, the product you mentioned—was it by any chance the coral hairpin?” Shiller asked casually.
Nick froze, unable to respond. Muir, confused by his silence, answered brightly, “That’s right! Nick came up with it. Isn’t he brilliant?”
Margit, observing Nick’s discomfort, smiled behind her fan with a hint of cruelty. Her voice, though seemingly concerned, carried a sharp edge.
“How odd. That design was Emma’s idea.”
“That’s not true! Nick has created so many accessories—heart-shaped necklaces, for example. All of them are his hit designs!”
“Those were Emma’s ideas too,” Margit countered.
“The leaf hair ornament—Nick designed that!”
“Also Emma’s design.”
Margit’s words, calm but cutting, silenced Muir.
“Emma gives me accessories she designs herself. Whenever I wear one I like to social gatherings, it becomes the talk of high society and trends immediately. That’s why they sell so well. Understand?”
“But… the ideas…” Muir stammered.
“Are all Emma’s. She perfectly tailors the designs to my preferences,” Margit said, her gaze steely.
“Then why is this incompetent man taking credit for her work?”
— “He stole Emma-sama’s achievements for himself?”
— “Fabricated harassment and tried to monopolize the trade?”
— “Unbelievable! What kind of person does that?”
The murmurs grew louder, no longer confined to whispers.
Nick hadn’t realized that Emma’s designs, sold under his name, had only been tolerated because he was her fiancé. He had ignored her voice, assuming that their engagement gave him free reign over her work.
“That’s enough. Let’s go, Muir. Excuse us,” Nick said, grabbing Muir’s arm and attempting to leave.
But Shiller’s cold voice stopped him. “We’re not done here.”
He fixed Nick with a glare that could pierce through steel.
“Now, about my first question—who did you call gloomy?”
Sweat beaded on Nick’s brow as all eyes in the dining hall turned toward him. Feeling trapped, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“M-Muir! I was talking about Muir’s face being gloomy!”
“What?! Nick?!” Muir gasped in shock.
In the end, that was the kind of man Nick was—quick to abandon even his allies when cornered. His selfishness and cowardice were laid bare.
“That’s your answer? Very well. Let’s leave,” Shiller said, rising. Margit and Emma followed suit.
As Shiller passed Nick, he paused and leaned slightly closer.
“Don’t mistake luck for your own skill. What goes around comes around. You’ll reap what you sow.”
Though his voice was low, it carried through the dining hall like a warning bell.
Nick stood frozen under Shiller’s icy glare, finally realizing he might have crossed a line he could never recover from.
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