Previously
At an imperial luncheon, Adrian provokes Resurreccion by pointing out Dolores lacks noble ladies-in-waiting, leading Dolores to preempt him by choosing the indiscreet Rachel Kirkland.
In the end, it was Dolores who murmured in a quiet voice first.
“…Are you still angry?”
“…”
“I know… you do not care for highborn ladies. But—”
“Enough.”
Resurreccion finally let out a stifled sigh.
He had merely been venting petty frustration.
Loathing the shadow of his miserable childhood lingering over him, he had raised his bristles at the mere mention of imperial ladies-in-waiting.
And those bristles had ended up pointing straight at Dolores.
It was not something he had particularly wanted to do.
“In any case, you are the one who will suffer the most once that quacker arrives.”
“…”
“Keep your jewelry box securely locked. She seems to have sticky fingers, too.”
Dolores gave a soft snort at his biting words, though she felt inwardly relieved.
For the two of them, light jabs traded back and forth like this were more than enough.
This time, a silence brought on by slumber settled over them.
And Dolores dreamed of the distant past.
She dreamed of the day of Empress Juliana's funeral.
The day Resurreccion had earned the moniker of ‘the Beast.’
The year Empress Juliana died, Resurreccion was fifteen, and Dolores was twelve.
The Marquis took James and Dolores to attend the funeral.
As members of the marquisal family, Dolores sat very close to the casket.
‘The prince… must be so heartbroken.’
Dolores had met Crown Prince Adrian and Prince Resurreccion once before.
Because the prince had been kind to her that day, the funeral felt sorrowful.
‘I have no mother, either.’
Yet the moment the imperial retinue entered, the Marquis sneered under his breath.
“Tsk. Better she had never given birth to him at all…”
Dolores merely watched them in silence, treading on eggshells.
Even at her tender age, she could feel how deeply her father and the nobles loathed the prince.
‘Why?’
The boy was as tall as His Highness the Crown Prince and looked remarkably strong. Yet only the Emperor showed him any favor.
Just then, the prince approached the casket to offer flowers to the Empress sleeping peacefully within.
But the moment he stood before the coffin.
His face hardened like stone.
His eyes trembled violently in sheer disbelief.
Yet soon, sparks flared alongside the tears welling in those golden eyes.
“You…!”
What happened next transpired in an instant.
Prince Resurreccion flung the heavy lid of the casket to the floor.
Tearing down the funeral draperies, he let out a roar.
“Aaargh!”
It was useless even when the imperial guards swarmed him in an attempt to hold him back.
The prince slammed one of them straight into the ground and howled.
“I’ll slaughter you all…! Let go of me! Get off me, you bastards!”
The funeral dissolved into utter pandemonium.
Dolores trembled behind the Marquis, cowering.
‘I’m scared.’
Yet the boy’s howling sounded exactly like the cry of a wounded animal.
It was a wail that struck the ear, impossible ever to erase.
‘He must be so terribly, terribly sad that his mother is gone.’
Even as she was led out by her father’s hand, she could not take her eyes off the prince.
The adults gathered in the banquet hall draped with black curtains, conversing amongst themselves.
Everyone clicked their tongues, calling the prince a ‘little beast.’
The Marquis scoffed when he heard the moniker.
“So where is he now? That little beast of a prince?”
“They say he fled to the greenhouse garden… but His Majesty commanded that he be left alone.”
“Good grief. Already fifteen, and he cannot even manage his own temper.”
Dolores glanced at her surroundings, then slipped through the terrace doors away from her father and brother.
She knew the greenhouse garden from having been shown it before.
After wandering a few times, she caught sight of Resurreccion’s turned back among the shrubs.
“Your Highness!”
“…”
At the call, the prince slowly turned around.
His face, marked by a streak of tears, looked as hollow as a corpse’s.
“…You.”
“Um, do you remember me?”
Dolores gathered her skirts and offered a deep, polite curtsy.
“I am Dolores Sienna Rochester.”
“…”
“I came… to ask if you were all right.”
“…”
“My mother also passed away early, so I share your—”
“Are you mocking me?”
When the boy took a step forward, Dolores stepped back before she knew it.
The boy, who had already grown tall, was terrifying beyond measure.
Just like a man-eating black panther.
The prince bared a vicious smile and clamped a hand down on Dolores’s shoulder.
The grip hurt so badly that Dolores’s eyes nearly bulged from her head.
“Do you think your dam and my mother were in the same position? Do you?!”
“…!”
“You stupid little wench!”
With a violent shove, he sent Dolores tumbling onto her backside.
When she looked up, she could see only his golden eyes burning against the backlit glare.
“Get lost this instant.”
“Eep…!”
Just as he commanded, Dolores turned and ran for her life.
Yet tears streamed down her face the entire time she ran.
“Hic.”
Why had His Highness the Prince not been kind to her today?
Why would he not let her comfort him over his mother’s passing?
“Sob…”
On the day her own mother died, no one had comforted her.
Her father had declared that shedding tears was something only uncultured people did.
Yet when the heart ached, tears came naturally, and the prince had been crying from that very same grief.
So, as someone who knew that same sorrow, she had simply wanted to hold his hand.
“Waaah… Waaah…”
In the end, Dolores wandered in tears, searching for her father.
And she was punished by going without dinner for wandering off alone.
…Perhaps it had all stemmed from that day.
The reason she had begun to avoid Prince Resurreccion, who had once been so kind to her on their first meeting.
Perhaps she had clung all the more tightly to the bright Adrian because she had grown terrified of the boy who gave vent to such fierce rage and grief.
Just as one severely burned by fire learns to dread the flame.
Even if that flame burned most beautifully in the dark.
A woman who joined the imperial family by marriage was expected to host a commemorative salon.
It was an occasion to express gratitude to those she had been unable to greet properly amidst the chaotic rush of the wedding day.
The venue was generally granted anywhere she desired within the imperial palace.
And Dolores chose a theme tailored specifically to the target she intended to win over.
‘I shall decorate it in a vintage style.’
She needed to craft a sophisticated reinterpretation of the era when Dowager Marchioness Lindinis had been most active in high society.
Once the woman’s heart softened in a setting evocative of nostalgia, Dolores planned to approach her and dig into whom she had in mind as her successor.
Even if she had been mocked as a mere doll, Dolores had spent years immersed in high society.
Gleaning information through conversation was second nature to her.
“Madame Rouare as well… Hmm.”
Yet looking down at the guest list, she fell into brief deliberation.
In her first life, Madame Rouare had tormented Dolores multiple times during her salon.
Finding Dolores preparing a salon for the very first time, the mistress had spent three whole hours smilingly picking her arrangements apart.
Worse still, only the mistress’s close intimates were seated around her, ensuring the mockery never subsided.
‘Still, this time I can simply silence her with her weakness.’
Dolores included her for now, as there was no need to signal bad blood with the Emperor’s mistress right from the outset.
However, she struck Angelica’s name clean off the list without hesitation.
She did not care in the least whether someone like Angelica ended up with Adrian now.
‘No, it would be far better if they did.’
Adrian’s relentless chasing after women's skirts would wither her to the bone.
Angelica would be the one agonizing before the mirror and secretly throwing up her meals.
‘Even so, I have no desire to go out of my way to help her future.’
Highborn noblewomen would attend the salon in droves, making it a prime opportunity to build connections. She had zero intention of granting Angelica such a chance.
Yet aside from the imperial salon, a troublesome matter finally arrived.
A new guest was added to the Lancaster mansion.
“Welcome, Lady Kirkland.”
“Kyaaah! Hello, Your Highness the Grand Duchess!”
Rachel Kirkland offered her greeting in a piercing, screechy voice the moment she arrived.
Looking at that face, Dolores realized just how fitting the Grand Duke’s moniker for her was.
‘Quacker.’
Lemon-blonde hair and dim sky-blue eyes.
Coupled with plump, protruding lips, she brought nothing to mind so much as an actual white duck.
The very man who had coined the nickname was standing with an arm wrapped around Dolores’s waist, obliging him to offer a greeting as well.
“…Make yourself comfortable, Lady.”
“Oh my, gracious! I look forward to your favor as well, Your Highness!”
Her voice was so shrill and loud that it made the corners of the listeners' eyes twitch.
Resurreccion, looking utterly tortured, scrubbed a hand down his face as though ready to tear off his skin.
“My ears…”
“…”
Dolores agreed with him entirely.
‘Hearing it again after so long is making my blood dry up.’
At least Resurreccion had an escape hatch for now.
The newlywed husband had to head to the imperial palace, and whenever he departed, Dolores made sure to see him off right at the main entrance.
She hoped that, in the eyes of others, they appeared as newlyweds who could not bear to be apart for a single moment.
Now was especially the prime opportunity, with Lady Kirkland watching them with gleaming eyes.
Dolores lightly caught the sleeve of the Grand Duke as he prepared to board the carriage.
“Your Highness.”
“Hm?”
“Haven't you forgotten something?”
Dolores tapped her left cheek lightly with her finger.
Realizing her meaning, Resurreccion let out a low chuckle.
“…Haha.”
This was getting more outrageous by the minute.
Dolores was slyly prompting him to kiss her on the cheek.