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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: An Unexpected Discovery
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But Eric said something completely out of the blue.
“A moment ago… did you happen to touch my body?”
“Pardon?”
I asked again, watching Eric fiddle with his own cheek.
Seriously, this guy. He’s been going on about this since—
“Honestly… the way you keep bringing it up makes me think you’re the one who wants it. Should I touch you a bit right now?”
As I pretended to lunge at him, Eric recoiled in horror, waving his hands frantically.
“…No.”
“Then stop talking about it. Just stop!”
And here I was, thinking he was going to bring up the diary again.
I pressed a hand to my pounding chest, my nerves on edge.
I should read the late Duchess’s diary more carefully later when I’m alone. There might be a clue…
“Thanks to the princess locking us in here, we’ll be late getting to the ducal estate. I’m sure she was aiming for that, too.”
“We’re going to the ducal estate?”
I asked, my eyes wide. Just when I thought I was finally done with the Duke after this wedding, now I have to go to his residence?
Eric nodded.
“Of course. You’re a member of the ducal family now. Imeline… Orleans.”
Orleans?
The moment I heard that name, I felt a chill creep up my arm.
My third name.
Imeline Orleans.
My first name was Imeline Violode, and my second was Imeline Wedgwood. Both eras were similarly hellish.
So, what about this time?
I always seemed to bear the names of the men who would ruin my life.
What about Orleans, then?
I quietly looked up at Eric.
Is this man the one who will ruin my life? Or the one who will save it?
“Will the Duke really allow it?”
I asked. After all, hadn’t I caused a major disruption to his plans?
“Of course. Didn’t you hear him earlier? He said he would accept you as the ducal family’s daughter-in-law.”
*‘I will accept her as my daughter-in-law, as a member of my family, Your Majesty.’*
I recalled the chilling look in the Duke’s eyes at that moment.
“If I go to the ducal estate, I don’t think he’ll just leave me be…”
Wasn’t he the kind of man who had easily killed my family just because they had interfered with his plans?
And I was the one who had openly ruined his wedding. He couldn’t possibly want to keep me alive.
*Bang!*
I remembered the sensation of the hot bullet piercing my heart. It had felt more like being struck in the chest with a large stone.
I unconsciously rubbed my chest.
“He won’t just leave *you* be.”
Eric said calmly.
“…?”
Did that mean Eric was in danger, too? I frowned.
“No way. You’re the Duke’s son. His only son.”
“…Does something like that even matter?”
“What do you mean…”
“A hunting dog that strays from control must be disposed of, no matter how skilled. That’s what my father always said.”
A shadow fell over Eric’s eyes. He spoke with a pained expression.
“…My mother was disposed of in the same way. I wonder what the reason was…”
I unknowingly reached for the diary beneath my petticoat.
Having seen the back of the document, I thought I knew the reason. But questions still remained.
A couple who, to the outside world, cherished each other dearly. They even had such a handsome son. Was there really a reason for one person to kill another…?
Does such a reason even exist?
I clenched my fists and moved closer to him. Even in the dim light, his swollen lower lip was clearly visible.
I subtly changed the subject.
“So you were a knight commander? Is that true? For someone like that, your fighting skills are pretty terrible.”
It was a lie, of course. I remembered Eric’s strength in the temple, how he had easily deflected the knights’ longswords when he held a blade.
Eric replied, sounding dumbfounded.
“I let him hit me.”
“Oh, come on. Lies.”
Even as I said it, I knew. He probably did let him.
Philip couldn’t fight. And not just a little—he was absolutely terrible at it.
Thanks to that, he often got beaten up by the boyfriends of the various women he hit on.
*‘It was forty against one. And I was the one, obviously.’*
*‘Don’t worry. Even if you were the forty, you still would have lost.’*
I remembered all the times I had applied medicine to Philip’s lips.
Philip wasn’t small, but Eric’s shoulders were a good two fists wider.
I stared quietly at Eric, who was so much larger than me.
Why do I feel perfectly fine being trapped in a dark room with someone this large? I used to feel suffocated whenever I saw a man bigger than Philip.
*‘A strange man in so many ways.’*
I pouted and said.
“I’ll put some medicine on it when we get out of here. I know a remedy that works like a charm on split lips.”
“I don’t care.”
“It might get infected… and it’ll hurt like hell when you eat soup.”
After teasing Eric to my heart’s content, I licked my lips and stepped back.
“Anyway. Just forgive him. Philip isn’t usually that hot-headed, but he was a little flustered today and overreacted.”
“…There’s nothing to forgive.”
“Lies.”
Eric’s red eyes gazed at me intently.
“It’s true. If someone had entered into such a reckless marriage with a person precious to me, I would certainly have been angry at them. No matter what the reason.”
I furrowed my brow at his answer, which sounded like something out of a religious text.
“Philip and I don’t think of each other as precious, though.”
“Lies.”
Eric said, mimicking me.
It’s true, though.
Of course, I did hug Philip at the wedding because I was so happy to see him, but that was just an instinctive reaction. Normally, just looking at him makes me angry, and if we happen to make eye contact, I get the urge to punch him.
*‘No matter what happens from now on… I hope you never forget that I am her older brother, Young Lord Eric.’*
But Philip’s last words were, well…
I pouted and muttered.
“Why did he have to say such nonsense…”
Nonsense.
Yes. It was complete nonsense.
“Imeline Wedgwood, no, Imeline Orleans.”
Eric said, staring at my face.
Orleans. I guess I’ll have to get used to this name, too.
I turned my head away from Eric and answered.
“What is it?”
“Why are you crying?”
At his words, I shot up from my seat, flapping my hands like a frantic duck.
I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand as if to ask when I had ever cried. But when I did, a strange liquid smeared onto my skin.
*‘No, that can’t be… It can’t be!’*
Me, crying while thinking of Philip? That was absolutely unacceptable.
I gritted my teeth and shouted at Eric.
“When did I cry! You’re so weird! And you’re not even thinking about how to get out of here!”
“…And you’re not even a real family.”
Eric muttered, his voice trailing off.
I stared into his cool, sunken eyes.
Real family.
It wasn’t surprising that Eric knew about my family’s past.
In fact, it would have been stranger if he didn’t. We had never once hidden the fact that we weren’t a ‘real’ family.
I asked coolly.
“What are you trying to say?”
Eric was looking straight at me.
“I want to ask why you trust your family so much.”
Why I trust them?
What’s with that all of a sudden? Families are supposed to trust and protect each other. Real or fake.
“That your mother was widowed through all four of her marriages…”
Eric leaned against the wall, looking down at me with an arrogant expression.
Seeing him like that brought back the same sense of intimidation I had felt when I first met him at Margaret Beaufort’s party. A feeling I had somehow completely forgotten about until now.
My fear… of men larger than me.
*‘You damn wench!’*
…Something like fear.
Eric’s red eyes glinted in the darkness.
“Even though one of them was your own father?”
“Didn’t we settle this conversation two nights ago?”
I said, feeling like I was struggling to breathe in the suffocating air.
“That was only about the possibility of you being the culprit. I never ruled out the possibility of another one.”
“Why do you think I’m not the culprit?”
My neck felt like it was stiffening into stone.
I rubbed the nape of my neck with my hand. Still, I forced my rigid neck to lift my head and stare up at Eric.
Eric said with clouded eyes.
“Because back then, you were…”
“Because I was young?”
Damn it.
Damn memories are coming back.
“Or because that man was my father?”
I saw my own reflection in Eric’s red eyes. Frightened eyes. I knew that whenever I made this face, Eric would look at me with contempt.
I said.
“What you’re doing right now, isn’t that just trying to fight with your father?”
Real family, fake family. There’s no such thing. At least, not for us.
For us, our family was always the people we chose. People who accepted each other, protected each other, and could believe in each other unconditionally.
So why does he keep…
*‘…There was a pearl hairpin found where Lord Violode died…’*
Is that what’s bothering him?
It’s a memory from my childhood, and most of my memories from my time at the merchant guild are hazy, but…
No matter how I think about it, that hairpin… I gave it to Mom.
*‘Here, you take this. It suits you better than me.’*
*‘Is it a gift?’*
*‘Just take it.’*
*‘That’s what you call a gift… It’s so pretty. Thank you, Imeline.’*
I gritted my teeth.
“If you’re suspecting Helena right now…”
“…”
“You’d be wise not to touch my family.”
I said firmly, slamming my palm against the wall I was standing by.
It was like a vow to myself. With a bang, the wall shook slightly.
Wait.
Did something… strange just happen? …The wall felt a little hollow.
I turned my head.
I ran my hands over the wall. I felt a small crack.
“Oh… I think there’s a door here.”
“A door? The door should be over here.”
Eric said, sounding puzzled.
But I paid him no mind, took out my hairpin, and poked at the crack.
“Hey. Can’t you open it in a more normal way…”
Just then.
*Click—*
With a crisp sound, the wall moved. I turned to Eric with a bright smile.
“Look at this! See! It’s opening!”
Behind me, I could hear the grinding sound of the wall opening. A bright light began to pour in, and…
“…?”
Shouldn’t a bright light be pouring in?
Seeing the room no brighter than before and the grim expression on Eric’s face as he turned his head, I sensed something was wrong. Not wanting to let go of the hope that the door was opening, I slowly turned around.
I saw the opened wall, let out a hollow laugh, and took a step back. Eric pressed a hand to his forehead and muttered.
“Close it. Close it again…”
I gritted my teeth, my face contorted with rage.
*‘Ugh, should I just kill that princess?’*
The opening wall wasn’t an exit; it was a small closet.
Inside that closet, a collection of strange clothes made of straps and thin fabric, and various tools of unknown purpose, were neatly displayed.
“You perverted princess!”
I screamed in fury.
