ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 211: People with the same face

The northern sea wind swept through the narrow streets of the harbor town, carrying the sharp scent of salt and a cold that bit into the bones. Small lanterns hung in front of shops and taverns, swaying gently in the wind.

After leaving the pier, Demian did not head toward the inn as his guards had expected.

Instead, he walked without a clear destination through the harbor market streets.

The people following him remained a few steps behind, keeping their distance yet not daring to stray too far.

Noel occasionally glanced around, making sure there was no danger.

The town was small, but lively enough with sailors, merchants, and travelers waiting for the next ship.

Demian passed several food stalls.

The smell of hot fish soup and toasted bread filled the air.

But he did not stop.

His steps remained steady until finally he passed a small stall selling fruit.

And suddenly he stopped.

Just like that.

As if something had pulled him.

Several guards almost ran into him, not expecting him to halt so abruptly.

Demian’s gaze was fixed straight ahead.

Behind a simple wooden counter, a woman was serving a customer.

She wore a thick but simple coat, far removed from the luxury of nobility. Her hair was loosely tied back, a few strands falling along the side of her face as she weighed fruit on a small scale.

"Here you go."

The woman handed a bag of fruit to a sailor.

The sailor paid and walked away.

When the woman lifted her head again her eyes met Demian’s.

A strange silence fell between them.

Several guards standing behind Demian also looked in that direction.

And almost at the same moment, their breaths seemed to stop.

That face.

There was no way they could mistake it.

Demian spoke her name in a low voice, almost like a murmur that escaped him without realizing it.

"Ivanka Kosler."

The woman behind the fruit stall blinked slowly.

Her gaze was calm.

There was no surprise.

No panic.

She simply looked at Demian as if she were facing an ordinary customer.

Then she spoke in a flat, polite tone.

"Are you looking to buy fruit, sir?"

The cold wind swept through the street again.

The guards exchanged pale looks.

They had all attended Ivanka’s funeral.

They had all heard the report about the carriage that fell into the ravine.

About the body burned beyond recognition.

About a woman who could no longer be identified.

And yet the woman standing before them now was clearly not a corpse.

Demian did not move.

His gaze sharpened.

A cold feeling crept down his spine.

Because there were only two possibilities.

The first this woman was not Ivanka. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

And the second Ivanka Kosler had never truly died.

The cold northern wind swirled between the wooden buildings of the harbor when it happened.

For a few seconds, the entire narrow street froze in silence.

Demian stared straight at the woman behind the fruit stall.

So did everyone standing behind him.

Not a single one of them failed to recognize that face.

The same face. The face they had seen in the palace. The face they had seen at the funeral. The face of Ivanka Kosler.

Demian took one step forward.

His eyes sharpened. "Stop joking, Ivanka."

His voice was low, but clearly audible to the people nearby. "Why are you here?"

The woman raised her eyebrows slightly.

Her expression looked confused.

"I’m sorry..." she said carefully. "Do I know you?"

BANG!

Before anyone could react Demian’s hand slammed into the wooden table.

The small table where the fruit had been arranged shattered into pieces.

Apples, oranges, and other fruits rolled across the cold stone road.

Some even burst open when they hit the ground.

The loud crash immediately drew the attention of everyone in the small market.

People stopped walking.

Sailors turned their heads.

Several shopkeepers stepped out of their stores.

The woman took a step back.

"Sir!"

she exclaimed angrily and in shock.

"I don’t know you! What is happening? Why are you destroying my goods?"

Demian stared at her with an expression that was beginning to lose its patience.

"You... are Ivanka Kosler."

He pronounced every word with pressure.

"How can you still be alive... and standing here?"

The woman immediately frowned.

"I’m Celia."

she answered firmly.

"And who is this Ivanka? Why are you accusing someone without knowing what actually happened?"

Several villagers who had witnessed the incident began stepping forward.

They gathered around the woman, almost unconsciously shielding her.

One fisherman spoke in a rough voice,

"Sir, what are you doing?"

"Are you looking for trouble here?"

"Don’t start problems in our town."

Several others joined in.

"That’s right!"

"She’s just selling fruit!"

"Why are you destroying her stall?"

Demian looked at them one by one with cold eyes.

"You don’t know who I am, do you?"

he said in a tone that was beginning to sound dangerous.

"And you dare act like this toward me?"

He pointed directly at the woman.

"I’m telling the truth."

"That is Ivanka. The daughter of Marquess Kosler."

"The woman who died."

For a moment, the atmosphere fell silent.

Then—

THUD!

Something struck Demian on the head.

He froze.

His hand reflexively touched his head.

An apple fell to the ground near his feet.

Demian slowly raised his gaze.

A middle-aged woman stood not far away.

Her face was full of anger.

She had thrown the apple.

"Don’t talk nonsense!" she shouted. "She’s my daughter!"

Demian stared at her with a cold expression.

The woman continued irritably, "How could she possibly be some noble lady?"

That sentence made several people around them burst into laughter.

Some sailors even slapped their thighs while laughing loudly.

"Hahaha!"

"A noble lady, he says!"

"A fruit seller at the harbor becoming a marquess’s daughter!"

"This man is really funny!"

Their laughter echoed along the small street.

Some people even began looking at Demian like he was a madman causing trouble for no reason.

Amid the laughter Demian stood still.

Very still.

His eyes never left the face of the woman named Celia.

The same face.

The same gaze.

But there was not a single reaction he recognized from Ivanka. And for the first time since he saw her even Demian himself began to feel something he could not explain.

Doubt.

The laughter of the people in the small market was still echoing.

Some sailors were still pointing while laughing, treating the incident as unexpected entertainment on a cold afternoon.

In the middle of the crowd, Demian stood without moving.

The apple that had struck his head had already rolled far across the stone road.

But Demian did not even spare it a glance.

His gaze remained fixed on the woman.

On the face he could never forget.

Ivanka Kosler.

Or the woman who claimed her name was Celia.

The doubt lasted only a few seconds.

Then Demian’s expression returned to its usual coldness.

He turned slightly.

His eyes searched for someone among his guards.

"Come here."

His voice was quiet, yet it was enough to make one soldier immediately step forward.

The guard bowed respectfully.

"Your Grace."

Demian leaned his head slightly toward him, just enough so only the two of them could hear.

"Send a letter."

The guard lifted his head a little.

Demian continued in a flat tone.

"To the Crown Prince Kaiser."

Demian’s gaze briefly returned to the woman standing among the villagers.

"Tell him to come here and follow me."