ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 61: Mask or thick face

Sean lifted his brow slightly, clearly surprised."His Grace said you don’t need to push yourself, Lady Valerie. If you wish, the dressmakers can be summoned here."

Valerie gave a small smile one that wasn’t entirely light.

"I know," she said softly."But that’s precisely why I want to go out."

She took a breath, then continued honestly,

"I just want to feel... normal for a while. To see other people, to hear the sounds of the street. Not just castle walls."

Sean fell silent for a moment, studying Valerie’s face not as a servant, but as someone who truly cared.

"Very well," he said at last, his tone respectful. "I will prepare a carriage and a suitable escort. Nothing conspicuous."

Valerie nodded in relief.

"Thank you, Sean."

As she turned back toward her room to change, her steps felt a little lighter. Not because all her burdens were gone, but because, for the first time that day, she had chosen something for herself.

The carriage rolled slowly into the heart of the capital.

Valerie sat inside, flanked by Sera and Lira. The window curtains were half drawn enough to let the morning light in, and enough to reveal the restless pulse of the city outside. Shops lined the streets in neat rows, other carriages passed by, and nobles and city ladies walked in elegant gowns as if the world would never run out of luxury.

Sean sat opposite her, as composed as ever. His presence was a quiet assurance that whatever Valerie desired today, she would not need to think about price or consequence. Everything had been arranged. Everything would be paid for.

And that was precisely what made her chest feel heavy.

The moment the carriage stopped and the door was opened, the whispers greeted her even before her feet touched the stone street.

Brief glances.Heads turning ever so slightly.Lips moving soundlessly, then murmuring as she passed.

Valerie could feel it.

She walked between Sera and Lira, her back straight, her chin lifted. Her steps were steady, unhurried. From the outside, she appeared calm—almost graceful.

But inside her chest, something clenched tightly.

"There she is...""Duke Demian’s mistress...""Shameless, when the Duke already has a fiancée...""Truly thick-skinned...""Look at her, strolling around so casually..."

The whispers were not always clear, not always complete. But the fragments were sharp enough to pierce. Valerie did not need to hear the rest she already knew how it ended.

Sera drew closer, her voice low with concern."Lady Valerie..."

Valerie shook her head slightly, almost imperceptibly."It’s fine," she said shortly.

She forced herself to keep walking.

Inside the first boutique, the atmosphere shifted for a moment. The scent of new fabric and expensive perfume filled the air. The shop attendants bowed deeply, their eyes shining not because of who Valerie was, but because of who stood behind her.

Sean.

The man’s presence was like an unspoken seal: whatever she touched would be paid for by the Duke.

"The newest southern silk, my lady," the shop owner said with an excessive smile."Perfect for... evening events."

Valerie nodded, her fingers brushing over the fabric. Soft. Beautiful. Expensive.

Yet the touch brought her no joy.

In a corner of the boutique, two noblewomen pretended to browse lace, their eyes flicking toward her again and again. The moment Valerie turned away, the whispers returned bolder, sharper.

"No wonder the Duke spoils her...""Yes, a mistress must be kept in luxury...""She certainly enjoys her position..."

Valerie tightened her grip on the fabric before letting it go.

Her chest felt tight.

It wasn’t that she didn’t know what people said about her. She simply hadn’t expected it to be so loud, so blatant, when she stood among them alone, despite being surrounded by so many people.

Lira bit her lip, clearly holding back anger."This is outrageous..."

Valerie gave a faint smile, one that never reached her eyes."Let them be."

Yet in her heart, a quiet, painful question formed:

Do I truly look that shameless in their eyes?Or do they simply want to see me fall?

Every step out of the boutique felt heavier than the last. The same streets now felt narrow, as if the capital itself were rejecting her. And she realized, bitterly:

Here, she was not merely the Duke’s woman.She was a twisted story.A symbol ready to be judged.

Still, Valerie kept walking.

She did not cry.Did not argue.Did not flee.

Because she knew if she lowered her head today, tomorrow those whispers would turn into triumphant laughter.

And though her chest ached,though her reputation was torn apart without her ever being given a chance to defend herself,Valerie chose one thing:

To endure.

With her back straight.With steps that did not falter.

Because she knew remaining composed in the face of humiliation was the only way to ensure they did not truly win.

After leaving the last boutique, Valerie let out a quiet breath.

Her hands carried several small boxes filled with dresses and accessories, yet her eyes looked distant, as if her thoughts had been left behind on the whisper-filled streets she had just walked through. Sera and Lira could see it; the exhaustion was not in her body, but in her chest.

"Would you like to return to the castle, my lady?" Lira asked carefully.

Valerie shook her head. Her gaze drifted across the street to a small bakery with a simple wooden sign, always crowded. Warm scents of butter and sugar drifted out from inside an aroma she had long known only through other people’s stories.

"That shop..." Valerie murmured, almost as if speaking to herself. "They say the bread there is the best in the capital."

Sera smiled faintly. "Would you like to try it, my lady?"

Valerie nodded softly. For the first time that morning, a small light appeared in her eyes not because of luxury, not because of status, but because of a very simple desire. To sit for a while. To eat a pastry. To be an ordinary person, even if only for a moment.

They moved closer.

Then Valerie stopped abruptly.

Her body froze.

Her eyes locked onto the large window of the bakery onto a table in the corner by the glass.

Demian was there.

The same Duke who had held her the night before, whispering for her not to think about the world. The same Duke who that very morning had calmly told her to buy a new dress.

And sitting across from him Ivanka Kelross.

The woman sat gracefully, her gown flawless, her face glowing with a wide, immaculate smile. Her fingers held a teacup as Demian leaned in slightly, listening with a relaxed expression.

Then he smiled.

Demian’s smile.

Not the distant smile of a Duke in public. Not the empty courtesy reserved for formality. This smile was light. Familiar. Warm.

A smile that made Valerie’s chest feel as if it were being crushed.

The world around her seemed to shrink.

The noise of the street dulled. The tempting scent of bread now felt suffocating. Valerie stood there, amid the crowd, yet felt utterly alone.

So this is what it feels like, she thought bitterly.Seeing him... with the woman who is supposed to be there.

Ivanka laughed softly, then whether intentionally or not turned her head toward the window. Her smile widened further, filled with a triumph she barely bothered to hide.

Valerie looked away at once.

Her hand clenched at the side of her dress.

Sean, who had been watching quietly, leaned forward slightly."Lady Valerie," he said softly, "shall we go inside?"

Valerie swallowed.

For a few seconds, she said nothing, as if weighing the choice. But she knew if she went in now, she would not be able to endure it. She did not want to become a spectacle. She did not want to stand before Ivanka and face either pity or veiled mockery wrapped in a sweet smile.

"No," she said at last, her voice flat but faintly hoarse. "Let’s go somewhere else."