A Summer With Bitter Rivals - Chapter 89

Chapter 89: A Special Person

***

It was four years ago.

“You insolent brat. I told you not to let articles like this get out! Because of you, I can’t even show my face in public!”

A crumpled wad of newspaper was hurled at Zenon’s face as he stood tall, facing his father.

The paper, which bounced off his shoulder, bore a large headline: [Zenon Trancium, is the woman in question this time the treasured daughter of the Retmer family? Former lover Miss Beten collapses from heartbreak after refusing to eat…]

Zenon flinched slightly as the wad hit and fell, but only for a moment. Soon he looked straight at his father with indifferent eyes.

The Marquis of Trancium, Lance, let out a bitter laugh as if it were unbelievable. His reddened face looked ready to explode at any moment.

Yet, as always, Zenon Trancium—his second son—didn’t even blink in response. Instead, with a slight smirk and clear eyes, he provoked him deliberately.

“What’s the problem? It’s not like I had any reputation to begin with. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Y-you—!”

That was enough to make Lance roll up his sleeves.

He had always been conscious of his infamous reputation.

Though long sick of being labeled a commoner by birth, he had tried every means to shake it off—expanding business among nobles and even courting the seemingly idle Second Prince.

Just yesterday, the damned Duke of Delzeier had sneered, ‘Still can’t shed your commoner stench, I see. Birth can’t be hidden.’

He was already fuming over that insult.

And now, with his own son mouthing off like this, how could his blood not boil?

Worse, it was partially Zenon’s actions that prompted such comments from the Duke.

“All your disgraceful traits come from your mother!”

Unable to restrain himself, Lance struck his son’s proud face.

With a dull thud, Zenon’s head jerked to the side. He winced and rubbed his stinging cheek.

After a pause, he raised his head and glared—not with remorse but with an icy defiance that hadn’t been there moments ago.

“…Don’t insult my mother. This has nothing to do with her.”

“Hah. If you don’t want her disgraced, fix your behavior now. I’ve been meaning to bring this up—what with all the gossip about your lunatic mother, I’m thinking of sending her off to some quiet backwater to recover.”

“…What did you just say?”

Zenon’s face turned deathly pale.

His mother, who had married into the Marquisate through an arranged match, had fallen ill years ago.

Even while living here, she had been grossly neglected. If she were sent elsewhere, there was no telling how she’d be treated.

Seeing his son’s growing fury, Lance smiled triumphantly. Nothing could hurt Zenon more than threatening the one he loved.

“You know if you fail one more semester, you’ll be expelled. If you really care about your mother, I suggest you graduate immediately.”

He had considered holding back for fear of harsher rumors if the Marchioness were exiled. But now he wondered why he hadn’t used this tactic sooner.

His troublesome son would have no choice but to comply.

***

“……”

Zenon stared at the grounds of Preliwood Academy with a conflicted expression.

Leaning against the wall, smoking a cigar, he let out a heavy sigh along with a plume of smoke.

His brows furrowed as he gazed into the haze, deep in thought.

‘So long as I behave and stay enrolled, nothing will happen to Mother.’

With cold logic, Zenon had decided to return to school.

It wasn’t that he had hated studying in the first place.

He had once spent entire days immersed in books at home—he truly enjoyed reading and learning.

But even the joy of study had been tossed aside, as he had made it his mission to defy his father.

‘What right does that man have to teach anything?’

This was the same Marquis Trancium who had driven his wife to illness, cheated endlessly, and beat his children when they didn’t behave as he wished.

If anyone needed reform, it was him.

That was why Zenon had rebelled so fiercely all this time.

Even when false scandals painted him as a womanizer, he didn’t bother correcting them—just to aggravate his father.

From the moment his rebellion began, Zenon had grown cynical and weary of life.

So what if there were more scandals?

He ground out the last of his cigar against the wall.

‘Today’s the Gaulish language exam.’

It was exam day, and the academy had been sending repeated reminders for him to show up and take it. Wearing a faint smile, Zenon made his way onto campus.

He arrived right at lunchtime.

Since the exam wouldn’t begin for a while, he wandered aimlessly around the campus. In doing so, he drew glares from all directions.

Zenon glanced around.

‘I’m not some circus lion, why is everyone staring?’

Those who recognized him widened their eyes and whispered among themselves. Those who didn’t seemed mesmerized, approaching as if to strike up a conversation.

In the end, overwhelmed by the stares, Zenon veered off toward the greenhouse, where it seemed less crowded.

But as luck would have it, the ladies gathered there were talking about him.

Something about Lady Beten refusing food and falling into despair…

And what kind of man was Zenon Trancium, to act so shamelessly when he was that handsome…

Surprisingly, Zenon stood still, listening with some amusement to what might’ve been gossip or praise about his looks.

‘So that Beten girl, she’s stirring up trouble here too, just like she did in the papers.’

That obsessive stalker.

Thinking of the girl who once clung to him, begging him to just glance her way even if he hit her, Zenon’s eyes twitched faintly.

And how good she was at lying.

Since when had they ever been lovers?

Recalling that silver-tongued fraud, Zenon’s mood plummeted.

Just as he was about to turn and leave, thinking there was no point in listening further, he heard a familiar name from across the way.

“Lady Delzeier, what do you think of the Marquis of Trancium’s second son?”

…Delzeier?

Zenon paused mid-turn and looked back.

Beyond the tall garden shrubs that shielded him, he could make out a woman with black hair.

He recognized her instantly.

Emeline Delzeier. The daughter of the Duke his father so loathed.

Even though he could only see her in profile, her quietly smiling face looked radiant in the sunlight, dignified and graceful.

Watching her for a while, Zenon came to a sudden realization.

Hadn’t he been looking for something new to provoke his father with?

If he used the spies his father had likely planted and Emeline Delzeier herself, it would be perfect.

As he turned away, Zenon recalled the harsh criticism Emeline had once spoken of him:

“His behavior is truly vulgar. To make no attempt to conceal his shame… there’s not an ounce of dignity in him.”

That woman. Would she dare say such things to his face?

In his experience, most women gossiped behind his back but wilted before him—especially when they were alone. That’s when their true intentions usually slipped out.

Zenon’s world had always been steeped in duality and contradiction, and he assumed even a rival family’s daughter would be the same.

The world had never cared to see his inner self.

His father—who, despite his own depravity, demanded nobility from his son—had made rebellion inevitable. And strangers, smitten by his looks, projected their fantasies onto him.

So even though Zenon was actually quite reserved and serious, the image society had built of him was far from the truth.

It was because of others’ hypocrisy and fickle judgments that his world was so warped.

‘But… what is this?’

Emeline Delzeier was different from what he expected.

People usually wore a mask of modesty, hiding their real thoughts. But she genuinely disliked him.

Her disdain was both on the surface and deep inside.

Just a glance told him—she’d probably love to smack him across the head twenty times if she could.

That intrigued him. Made her interesting.

Once he started paying attention, he noticed more odd traits.

She pretended otherwise, but clearly harbored a strong desire to succeed academically, working hard in secret.

Unlike other young ladies, she often looked bored by gossip.

And after throwing a sharp remark his way, she’d sometimes make a subtle face as if regretting it.

For some reason, Zenon began to think of Emeline Delzeier as someone special.

He couldn’t understand why no one else saw it—how captivating she was.

The more he observed her, the more she seemed familiar.

The more he watched her, the more curious he became.

That was the beginning of everything.

After that, he forgot all about using her.

Zenon found himself completely swept up by Emeline Delzeier.

To be honest, nearly everything between them happened by chance, which is why he often said they must have a special connection.

At times, he even secretly wondered if they were destined for each other.

They shared a rebellious stance toward their fathers, a feeling of being unseen for who they truly were, and even similar tastes.

Still, there were some moments between them that couldn’t be chalked up to coincidence.

Like how their eyes always met, followed by a shy wave.

“Hello.”

That playful mouth motion from far away.

Those moments were almost never just coincidence.

Zenon had always been looking at Emeline Delzeier.

Because everything she did was pretty and entertaining.

And because she made him curious.