ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 91: Old granny

There was no room for discussion in his tone.

Valerie lowered her head slightly. She understood. This permission came with conditions as always.

"All right," she said.

There was no triumphant smile. No complete relief. Only a quiet acceptance.

As Valerie walked out of the room to prepare herself, she realized something clearly she was indeed allowed to go, but that freedom still rested firmly in Demian’s grasp.

And Demian, standing alone in the chamber, stared at the closed door with a tangle of emotions caught between his need to control and the fear that one day, even that control would no longer be enough to make her stay.

The city center that day was filled with color and sound.

Valerie moved through the crowd alongside Sera and Lira, her steps lighter than they had been in a long while. The city air carried the scent of warm bread and fresh flowers; laughter mingled with soft street music drifting through the streets. For the first time in ages, Valerie smiled without having to restrain herself.

"Today feels wonderful," Lira said, twirling the ribbon around her finger. "The opera tonight must be amazing."

Valerie nodded, her eyes bright. "I’ve wanted to see it for so long."

They stopped at several stalls, touching fabrics, admiring small trinkets, and tasting sweet treats. Sera laughed when Valerie nearly dropped her shopping bags from bargaining too enthusiastically.

But in the middle of that joy Valerie suddenly went still.

Through the shifting crowd, between bodies moving swiftly past one another, she caught sight of a figure that made her chest tighten. A frail old woman, her back bent, her steps slow with the help of a wooden cane worn smooth with age. Her hair was completely white, hidden beneath a simple veil.

Valerie recognized her.

Or at least... she was certain she had seen her before.

"That woman—" she whispered without realizing it.

Before Sera could ask, Valerie had already quickened her pace, her eyes fixed on the elderly figure.

"Grandmother!" Valerie called out, her voice nearly swallowed by the noise of the market.

The old woman kept walking.

The crowd grew denser. People passed by in all directions, vendors called out to customers, a small cart rolled by slowly. Valerie tried to weave through them, but every time she drew close, someone else came between them, widening the distance again.

"Valerie, wait!" Sera called anxiously.

Lira hurried after them, confused. "Who is that woman? Why are you so desperate to meet her?"

"I—I don’t know," Valerie replied as she kept moving, her breath growing uneven. "But I’m sure... I’ve met her before."

She tried to move faster, but the old woman had already turned into a narrow alley at the edge of the market. Valerie nearly broke into a run, her dress brushing the ground, her heart pounding not from exertion, but from the strange pressure tightening in her chest.

When she finally reached the end of the alley ,the old woman was gone.

Valerie stopped, breathing hard. She looked left and right. The alley was empty, lined only with stone walls and closed wooden doors.

Sera and Lira caught up to her, their faces filled with concern.

"Valerie, what happened?" Sera asked gently. "You look like you’ve just seen a ghost."

Valerie stared at the empty alley for a long moment, then slowly shook her head.

"I don’t know why," she said softly, "but I feel like... if I could meet her, something would finally make sense."

Lira exchanged a glance with Sera, equally confused.

"We can try to look for her later," Lira said, trying to reassure her. "The opera is about to begin. We don’t want to be late."

Valerie nodded, though the lightness in her heart had not fully returned. As she turned and walked away with them, she didn’t realize from the shadowed corner of the dark alley, a pair of aged eyes watched her retreating figure, and the wooden cane tapped softly against the ground, as if marking that their meeting... had not truly ended yet.

In the end, they truly lost sight of the old woman.

Valerie stood for a long moment in the middle of the ever-moving crowd, her eyes scanning every corner of the market, every passing face, hoping to glimpse that wooden cane again the slow steps, the bent back. But all she found were strangers, the sounds of bargaining, and the restless bustle of the city, a place that offered no space for a single frail figure to be recognized once more.

She let out a slow breath.

Sera was the first to step closer, gently touching Valerie’s arm. "Perhaps the old woman went too far ahead," she said softly. "Or maybe she wasn’t who you thought she was."

Lira stood on her other side, trying to smile. "This city is vast. Far too vast for a single small coincidence." She lightly took Valerie’s hand. "Don’t let one shadow ruin today."

Valerie nodded, though her chest still felt tight. "I know," she murmured. "It just feels... strange. Like I was on the verge of remembering something important."

Sera patted her shoulder gently. "Then keep that feeling for later. We have the opera tonight. You’ve been looking forward to it since morning."

Lira nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly. We’ll dress beautifully, sit in the best seats, and forget the outside world for a few hours."

Valerie gave a small smile forced, yet sincere in its effort. "All right," she said at last. "Let’s go to the opera."

They walked toward the opera house, along streets slowly filling with the glow of evening lamps. Valerie moved between Sera and Lira, laughing softly at their stories, nodding when needed, as though she were fully present again.

Yet behind the calm in her gaze, her thoughts continued to drift.

To the old woman.To the wooden cane tapping softly against the ground.To the feeling that the encounter had not been a coincidence.

Even when the opera curtain would rise, even when the music would fill the hall a part of Valerie would remain behind in that narrow market alley, searching for answers she had yet to find.

The opera house sank into dim light as the curtain slowly rose. The opening music flowed softly yet sharply, as if from the very first notes it was already signaling that the story to be told would not be a happy one.

Even the title of the performance sounded sorrowful.

On stage, the story began to unfold of a woman who lost her childhood lover to fate and circumstance. The years passed, wounds dried into memories, until one day they met again as adults. But fate proved cruel once more: the man was already married, bound by duty and a great name, while the old love that had never faded could only survive in the shadows.

As a kept woman.

Valerie sat upright in her seat, her hands folded neatly in her lap. At first, she watched as any other audience member would following the plot, savoring the mournful soprano, feeling the emotional pull carefully designed to stir the heart. But as time went on, something began to feel wrong.

There were parts of the story that felt far too... familiar.

When the woman on stage sang of waiting in silence, of a love that had to be hidden, of happiness that could only be tasted briefly before returning to loneliness Valerie’s lips curved faintly.

It was not a smile of sympathy.

It was a bitter one.

"How ironic," she murmured softly, nearly drowned out by the orchestra.