Chapter 42: Perfect Plan

Investigating at the brothel turned out to be a wild goose chase for Iyana. She left with no juicy tidbits about Lyon. However, the shifty eyes and awkward silence from the staff screamed, "We are hiding something!"

With her detective senses tingling, she decided to confront the suspected mastermind the next day.

But first, she had to get past a major roadblock.

"I would like to speak with His Grace. I fail to see why I am being denied entry," she reasoned with the butler, who looked as stoic as if he had been carved out of stone.

"But His Grace has no desire to see you," Benedict replied, his politeness a thin veil over an iron resolve. "Besides, appointments are required to meet the grand duke, and you do not have one."

"I did request an appointment, only to be refused. And I suspect you had a hand in that," she shot back, her voice laced with frustration.

"Well, that wraps it up nicely. Let me show you to the door, my lady—"

"I will not leave until I have spoken with him," she declared. "As a military official, you are bound to let me in."

"If that is the case, may I see your warrant, please?" Benedict requested, holding out his hand in the air.

Reluctantly, Iyana handed him a rolled paper.

Benedict scrutinized the warrant like a scholar with an ancient manuscript before handing it back. "My apologies, my lady," he conceded with a hint of a smile. "Please wait in the lounge, and I will inform the Master of your arrival."

She nodded while being fully aware it was a forgery. The warrant lacked the commander's official seal, but as vice-commander, she had taken a few creative liberties.

After a brief wait, Benedict returned and escorted Iyana to Vyan's office. He knocked on the door, announcing her arrival like a herald at a royal court.

The door swung open to reveal a gray-haired man with an eager expression, reminiscent of a puppy who just found its new master.

"Hello, Lady Iyana! It's a pleasure to finally meet you," Clyde greeted, practically bouncing on his toes. "Welcome to my master's humble office."

Iyana took in the opulent room, the rich, dark wood paneling screaming anything but humble. "I wouldn't exactly call it humble, but hello to you too."

Clyde grinned and gestured grandly for her to enter. "I will take it from here, Benedict."

Benedict shot Clyde a look so disapproving, then left without a word. Iyana could practically feel the waves of disdain radiating from him, a stark contrast to Clyde's overenthusiastic welcome.

"Please, come in. His Grace is eager to—"

"Yes, I really am eager for you to leave, Clyde," Vyan interrupted from behind him, sounding exasperated.

Clyde turned and gave Vyan a teasing look. "Oh, you want to talk to Lady Iyana alone? How intriguing."

"Please, spare us the commentary and depart quietly," Vyan replied, his smile tight enough to snap.

"As you wish, my lord!" Clyde mock-saluted before turning to Iyana. "My lady, let's chat another time. I am quite curious to get to know the woman who—"

"Alright, that's enough. Out you go," Vyan interjected, seizing the back of Clyde's collar and ushering him out of the room. "Also, be useful for once and tell Maya to bring us some tea and snacks."

As Vyan shut the door on Clyde's face, Iyana couldn't help but feel bewildered by the exchange.

"He was..." she began tentatively.

"Insufferable? Yes, I know. He is a handful," Vyan sighed in exasperation. "Anyway, please, take a seat."

Iyana settled comfortably onto one of the plush couches, her gaze following Vyan as he approached. He wore a black ermine coat draped over his loose off-white shirt and a slim black waistcoat in a slightly sloppy manner, suggesting he hadn't expected any visitors today.

Despite the casual attire, she couldn't help but find his disheveled appearance somewhat appealing.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure, my lady?" Vyan inquired, sinking onto the couch opposite her and crossing one leg over the other.

"Oh, we are disregarding the pleasantries? Thank goodness. I am glad neither of us wants to prolong this conversation," she responded, her fingers interlocked firmly in her lap.

"True. The sooner you leave, the sooner I can breathe easier."

Iyana fixed him with a sharp gaze. "Where were you on the 20th night of Coral?"

Vyan raised an amused eyebrow. "And why should I answer that?"

"Didn't your butler show you the warrant?" she countered, her tone firm.

He looked at her with genuine amusement. "You mean that fake one?"

"It's not fake," she insisted.

"Then do you want me to send a message to your commander, asking if he approved of this warrant?" he challenged.

Iyana was surprised at that and took a moment to compose herself. "No, there's no need to trouble the commander over such a trivial matter."

"Alright then, I will not answer your trivial question as well," Vyan declared.

"You do know that refusing to answer only pleads guilty?"

Their passive-aggressive exchange was interrupted by the arrival of a maid with a trolley bearing tea and sweets. After setting them down, she exited the room, leaving them alone once more.

Vyan took a sip of his tea and shrugged, regarding her with a nonchalant expression. "So?"

"So my foot," Iyana grumbled under her breath, clearly annoyed. "So, nothing, Your Grace," she forcefully declared.

God, he is infuriating!

She was certain he was the one framing her family, yet she lacked evidence against him. What was worse, he seemed to enjoy her frustration, taunting her with his smug demeanor.

"Please, have some tea. I wouldn't want the future crown princess to leave my manor thirsty," he suggested, his tone dripping with mockery.

Iyana took a sharp breath and reluctantly lifted the cup to her lips, the fragrant jasmine tea calming her nerves.

"And do try the desserts. Our patissier is among the finest in Haynes," he added.

She glanced at the tempting sweets and shook her head. "It's fine."

"There is no chocolate in any of them," he informed off-handedly. "So you might enjoy them."

Iyana stared at him in surprise, then at the tray of desserts and the jasmine tea—both clearly made with consideration for her. She had strong dislike for any tea except jasmine, and chocolate made her nauseous.

"How did you...?" she trailed off.

"I may hate you, but I am not a spiteful bully like some of your former friends," he remarked.

She arched a confused brow.

"Don't you recall?" he inquired, and she shook her head.

"I must have forgotten," she said casually, not wanting to let him know of her amnesia.

"You and your habit of forgetting menial things," he sighed. "This one was a pretty big incident, though."

Iyana shrugged.

He let out an annoyed scoff and narrated, "Well, you were once invited to a tea party hosted by the daughter of a viscount, a so-called close friend of yours. She and her companions oh-so delightfully made cupcakes with chocolate filling disguised as strawberry cupcakes."

"What happened then?" she urged, her curiosity piqued.

"What do you think?" He rolled his eyes. "You threw up instantly."

"Oh…" It sounded like a rather unpleasant memory, one she was relieved to have forgotten.

"Seriously, how could you forget this?" he frowned. "You were so mad afterward. You nearly throttled the poor girl."

"Well, it sounds like she got what she deserved," she commented, taking a sip of her tea without a hint of remorse.

He chuckled softly. "That's what you said at the time."

He remembered how her anger had dissipated the moment he arrived. Back then, he was the only one who could soothe her temper. She always respected his advice and heeded his words.

But now, knowing it had all been a facade, those memories that once brought him joy now only caused his heart to ache.

Even at this moment, it took all his willpower to maintain composure and engage in what appeared to be a normal conversation with her. Only he knew of the stormy emotions going on inside him.

Clearing his throat, he inquired, "Regardless, do you have any further questions?"

"I do, but I doubt you would answer," she retorted, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her frustration.

His lips twitched, obviously aware that he was getting under her skin. "May I ask why you're so interested in my whereabouts that night?" He feigned innocence, as if he weren't the orchestrator of that night's events.

"It's confidential," she replied curtly.

"Too bad, then. I am afraid I cannot be of any assistance."

Setting down her empty teacup, she locked eyes with him and declared, "Your Grace, rest assured, I will find a way to make you cooperate. You will answer my questions, one way or another."

"How do you intend to do that? I am quite curious, because I have no intention of cooperating," he retorted.

"You will see it in due time. I have the perfect plan." With that, she rose from her seat. "For now, I will take my leave."

Once she exited his office, she let out a frustrated sigh.

"A perfect plan? I don't have P of a plan," she muttered in distress. "That jerk, pretending to be oblivious and flaunting it in my face," she grumbled.

As she navigated her way through the manor, Iyana racked her brain for a strategy to make Vyan slip up. There had to be flaws in his perfect crime. She just needed a way to uncover them. But how?

She needed to remain close to him for that, yet she couldn't see him whenever she wished. Once her knight, she now required a fake warrant just for a brief conversation with him.

How exasperating!

Who knows what sort of black magic he did on all these people to take up the spot of the grand duke? She better be cautious of him. He was no ordinary man, after all.

"Goodness, now, where is the main entrance?" she muttered in confusion.

Scanning her surroundings, Iyana stumbled upon some maids conversing with Vyan's aide. She was about to approach them for assistance when she overheard fragments of their discussion.

"Did Master decide on the outfit he wants to wear tomorrow for his audience with His Majesty?" a maid asked.

That guy has a formal audience with His Majesty tomorrow? Why? Iyana wondered, stopping on her track.

"Melissa, have you ever seen him worrying about what to wear?" Clyde mused, tilting his head.

"Oh, right," Melissa let out sheepishly.

"Yep. So have his personal fashion stylist, Benedict, decide his clothes for tomorrow," Clyde informed.

"Got it."

"By the way, what is the purpose of Master's meeting tomorrow?" another maid asked curiously.

"Oh, don't you know? He wants to take permission to restart the tradition of the monster-hunt festival," Clyde answered enthusiastically.

The maid gasped in surprise.

"Monster-hunt festival? But hasn't it been banned since the execution of the last grand duke and duchess?"

"Yes, that's why Vyan wants to start it again," Clyde grinned. "He will somehow manage to get the permission, so you guys should be prepared for the heavy workload coming up soon."

"That sounds great!" the maids cheered.

As Iyana eavesdropped on Clyde and the maids' conversation, a mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes. "I have found the perfect plan now."