Chapter 30: A Grand Fake Dating Scheme

“That is such a massive relief.”

Simon let out a long, easy breath, breaking into a foolish, giddy smile.

“Then I can continue visiting you regularly—and keep my official position as your detective assistant!”

“You genuinely intend to maintain your position as an assistant?” Clint asked, raising a bemused eyebrow. “I would have thought last week’s life-threatening ordeal was more than enough excitement to last you a lifetime.”

“I am absolutely continuing,” Simon declared with resolute conviction.

Spending quality time alongside Clint and drawing closer to him had been his central objective from the very beginning. While their bond had undeniably deepened compared to their initial meeting, he remained hesitant to classify their relationship as a truly intimate friendship. After all, the only person Simon had ever considered a genuine friend was Anise—a childhood companion with whom he had grown up as practically a sibling. Measuring his connection with Clint against a lifelong benchmark felt like setting the bar impossibly high.

‘Ah, that reminds me… Anise.’

Her face suddenly drifted into his thoughts.

Anise Kendell.

She was Simon’s official fiancée. Having shared their early childhood years together, their relationship had always functioned far more like that of an elder sister and younger brother than that of a romantic couple. Though he had unexpectedly crossed paths with her at the Kenyon masquerade ball a few days prior, he had panicked and instinctively sprinted in the opposite direction. While that sudden retreat had unintentionally led to the capture of Peter Matterson, several days had elapsed since the incident without a single word from her. While Simon had been completely consumed by the aftermath of the castle invitation, Anise had maintained an equally absolute silence.

‘Could she be keeping her distance because she feels deeply awkward about our encounter at the ball?’

During those brief seconds at the masquerade, Anise had been standing beside a gentleman with whom she shared a strikingly affectionate demeanor. Was it possible she assumed Simon had fled out of shock upon witnessing her with another man? Yet, Simon was already acutely aware of the secret lover residing within her heart.

A vivid memory from the autumn preceding his death suddenly surfaced in his mind.

He had been languishing through another utterly hollow, spiritless afternoon when Anise’s personal maid arrived at his residence in a state of utter panic. The servant begged for his immediate intervention, weeping that her mistress had locked herself inside her bedchamber for days and refused to consume a single morsel of food. Frightened by the maid’s desperation, Simon hurried to the Kendell estate.

Anise’s bedroom door was bolted tight from the inside. It was only after Simon spent nearly an hour weeping and pleading outside her door that the lock finally clicked back.

The sight of the woman stepping into the hallway sent a wave of profound shock through his chest. Her eyes were hollowed out by severe sleep deprivation, her lips were cracked and bleeding, and above all, her features were thoroughly saturated with a terrifying, absolute despair. The interior of her room was in a state of total, chaotic destruction.

Simon had gripped her trembling shoulders, his voice cracking with panic.

‘What on earth happened?! What could possibly be tormenting you to this extent?!’

After relentless questioning, Anise finally managed to whisper a single, broken sentence through her sobs.

‘He is gone forever, Simon… He left me.’

That was the entirety of her explanation—an enigmatic, heartbreaking statement that left him completely in the dark regarding the specifics.

Later that afternoon, while the maid briefly guided the hysterical woman downstairs to administer a warm tonic, Simon conducted a quiet search of her bedchamber. Nestled deep within the velvet lining of her vanity drawer, he uncovered two items: a delicate silver ring, and a folded sheet of parchment that had wrapped around it.

Inscribed upon the paper were the handwritten lyrics of an intense, romantic love poem. It was in that exact microsecond that Simon realized Anise harbored a secret lover—and that the absolute despair consuming her was the direct result of that lover vanishing permanently from her life.

The revelation had left him thoroughly stunned. Anise harbored a secret romance?! She had never dropped the subtlemost hint of such a relationship. Because he had always considered her his absolute closest confidante, a small part of him felt a quiet, stinging ache that she had kept such a massive secret hidden from him. Yet, as the initial shock faded and cool logic returned, his heart broke for her.

To be permanently barred from pursuing happiness alongside the person you love…

Simon had desperately attempted to initiate an open, heart-to-heart conversation with her over the following weeks. Yet Anise’s condition devolved rapidly. She spent her days weeping uncontrollably in total darkness, completely foregoing food and sleep, until she became so frail that she was physically incapable of taking a single step outside her bed.

Shortly after, Simon’s own health took a catastrophic turn for the worse, confining him to his own bed until his final breath. Given that Anise had been unable to visit his deathbed, he could only surmise that her heart had remained utterly broken to the very end.

‘Perhaps… it is finally time to attempt fulfilling that specific wish?’

Simon turned his gaze toward Clint. The detective had remained completely silent, patiently allowing the young noble to navigate his internal thoughts without offering the slightest pressure.

“Ah, my deepest apologies! I completely drifted off into my own head again.”

“Think nothing of it,” Clint replied smoothly, a soft smile playing upon his lips. “Though I must admit, I am profoundly curious about the thoughts swirling behind those eyes. Mr. Grayan is a remarkably entertaining individual.”

“Pardon?”

It was the first time in his entire life that someone had complimented him as ‘entertaining.’ Flustered by the unexpected praise, Simon cleared his throat with a awkward cough.

“There is… a critical matter I desperately require your assistance with.”

“Does this pertain to the mysterious ‘wish’ you mentioned previously?”

“Yes.”

Clint shifted his posture, leaning forward with a serious, attentive expression.

“I need your tactical assistance in successfully breaking off my official engagement with my fiancée.”

Dissolving the formal betrothal was a goal Simon had resolved to achieve from the exact microsecond he experienced his regression. In the rigid social hierarchy of the realm, if a nobleman died while betrothed, his surviving fiancée was subjected to the exact same oppressive social stigma as a widow. She would be branded as cursed or unlucky, destroying her prospects for future noble suitors. Therefore, Simon was adamantly determined to sever their formal ties before his inevitable death, restoring her absolute freedom.

Witnessing Anise standing alongside her secret lover at the Kenyon masquerade had provided the ultimate validation. The pair had projected an unmistakable, radiant happiness. The sole obstacle preventing Anise from pursuing a legitimate, joyful life alongside the man she loved was her formal tie to the Grayan estate.

‘The moment I sever this engagement, Anise will finally be free to pursue true happiness.’

“If a dissolution of betrothal is your goal, would a mutual, amicable agreement between both parties not suffice?” Clint inquired.

“A simple agreement is completely insufficient.”

Even if both families quietly agreed to dissolve the arrangement, the regional high society would never allow the matter to rest. Aristocratic gossips would obsessively probe the underlying motives, fabricating malicious rumors regarding who was at fault, relentlessly tormenting both parties. And the brunt of that social toxicity would inevitably fall upon Anise rather than himself.

Furthermore, Anise was already the target of considerable underlying resentment within noble circles—or rather, intense envy. While the Kendell family possessed notable scholarly prestige, their wealth and political standing paled in comparison to the immense fortune of the Grayan estate. Because Simon was widely regarded as the ultimate bachelor due to his vast inheritance and notoriously frail constitution, many viewed Anise with bitter jealousy, believing she had merely landed a prize through an arranged childhood agreement between deceased parents. Should the engagement end without a clear, definitive cause, Anise would be subjected to relentless, cruel ridicule.

“The absolute responsibility for the broken engagement must rest entirely upon my shoulders. I need to construct a scenario where I possess a massive, irredeemable personal flaw that leaves her with zero choice but to call off the union.”

“Hmm. That presents a rather complex challenge.”

“Indeed…”

Given that their formal betrothal had endured for over a decade, inventing a sudden, devastating flaw capable of justifying an immediate dissolution was extraordinarily difficult. It was precisely why he was seeking Clint’s brilliant mind—hoping the detective could devise an ingenious angle that had completely escaped his own imagination.

“Have you considered any specific angles yourself?” Clint asked.

“I… I did conceptualize one potential angle…” Simon stammered, his face instantly flushing a faint pink.

“Out with it then. No idea is too absurd.”

“…What if… what if we leak a rumor asserting that I… lack basic reproductive capability?”

“Pfft—!”

Clint lost all restraint, bursting into a sudden, resonant laugh. I knew he was going to laugh! Simon’s entire face turned violently crimson.

“You wish to spread a regional rumor claiming you are completely impotent?”

“…Yes.”

It was the absolute best scenario Simon’s desperate brain had managed to engineer.

Wiping a tear of amusement from the corner of his eye, Clint chuckled. “And how, precisely, do you intend to provide objective proof for such a claim?”

“…Ah?”

“What happens if your uncle or her family demands an official medical evaluation? Modern medical academies offer comprehensive physical examinations for precisely those inquiries. Ah… unless you are asserting that it is an actual physical reality?”

Clint’s sharp gaze drifted pointedly toward the lower half of Simon’s torso.

Simon’s flush instantly surged all the way down his neck. He frantically waved both hands through the air in absolute panic. “N-No! Absolutely not! That is completely false!”

Overwhelmed by intense embarrassment, he could do nothing but repeat the exact same denial like a broken record.

Watching the young noble squirm with immense amusement, a sudden spark of inspiration struck Clint’s mind. His eyes brightened with a brilliant ah.

“I have just conceptualized an extraordinarily magnificent strategy.”

The detective offered a slow, mischievous smirk, deliberately holding his tongue to heighten the suspense. Observing that distinctly wicked smile, a faint wave of anxiety prickled through Simon’s chest.

“How about you simply pretend to be dating me instead?”

“Pardon?”

What on earth did I just hear?! Dating?! Clint just proposed… that the two of them date?! Am I trapped in a vivid hallucination? Simon violently pinched the back of his own hand. Ouch! It hurt immensely. If this wasn’t a dream, what on earth was happening right now?!

“W-What on earth do you mean by that…?”

Observing the young noble’s completely blank, utterly frozen expression, Clint let out another warm chuckle before articulating the mechanics.

“Imagine the exact social fallout if a rumor spreads asserting that young Master Grayan is exclusively attracted to men—complete with high-visibility sightings of you involved with a specific male partner. If the Kendell family officially breaks off the engagement at that exact juncture, what will the narrative be?”

“Um… the entire territory will assume… that I became hopelessly infatuated with a man and was disgraced into a broken engagement! Ah! That scenario fulfills my exact requirements with absolute perfection!”

“Precisely.”

“However… why would Clint Sebaldo… agree to pretend to be my… my lover…?”

“Sourcing a trustworthy male operative to act out a high-stakes romantic farce is exceptionally difficult. An amateur would risk exposing the ruse under basic pressure. Since I have already committed to assisting your cause, it is the most logical route. So, what is your verdict?”

“…I am… more than thrilled with the arrangement…”

Simon accidentally blurted out his absolute, unvarnished truth. Was ‘thrilled’ even a powerful enough word? A wave of profound, existential gratitude washed over his entire soul. Was it possible that the sole reason he had been betrothed at such a young age was specifically to lead him to this exact, glorious outcome?! For the first time in his life, he felt deeply thankful for his childhood betrothal, deeply thankful for the societal conventions governing noble unions, and deeply thankful to the entire universe for allowing this specific moment to exist. Thank you, divine heavens! This is the absolute best outcome imaginable! Simon felt tears of sheer euphoria prickling behind his eyes.

“Then the matter is officially settled. The prospect of pulling the wool over the eyes of the entire regional aristocracy promises to be an extraordinarily entertaining endeavor.”

Clint delivered a sharp, playful wink. He looked thoroughly delighted. With his eyes sparkling with vibrant excitement, the detective appeared as dazzlingly fresh and brilliant as a lush forest bathed in sunlight after a heavy summer rain. Gazing upon his captivating face, an uncontrollable smile spread across Simon’s lips as he broke into a giddy, helpless laugh alongside him. Whatever the outcome, if it brings this much joy, it must be a good thing!

The two men immediately set to work drafting a meticulous tactical execution plan for ‘Operation Betrothal Dissolution.’

The initial phase required the aggressive, systematic dissemination of foundational rumors. This component was remarkably simple. Working together, they penned identical anonymous correspondence and dispatched the letters to every major newspaper column covering regional aristocratic gossip.

[Simon Grayan is covertly engaged in a passionate, exclusive romantic affair with another man. He is so utterly consumed by his male lover that his formal betrothal is on the absolute verge of catastrophic collapse. Observe the central public square tomorrow at sharp noon for absolute confirmation.]

Simon and Anise had remained officially betrothed for well over a decade. Though three full years had elapsed since Simon attained legal adulthood, zero official announcements regarding a wedding date had ever been issued to the public.

When on earth do those two intend to walk down the aisle? Do they even intend to marry at all?

It was a perpetual, highly lucrative topic of idle speculation that surfaced every single season within the notoriously dull regional social circles. Having received such an explosive, high-tier tip-off, any journalist worth their salt would inevitably dispatch scouts to the central square to verify the legitimacy of the anonymous claim.

‘It isn’t as though I deliberately delayed our marriage out of malice, but…’

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