The hunter is coming. Please hide me, oh great trickster.”
I gasped and quickly covered my mouth. Erik tilted his head, intrigued.
“Because of that novel’s advertisement, it seems like the tale of you and I has once again become the talk of the capital—”
Mother snatched the newspaper from the table and shrieked with glee.
“Oh my heavens! Doesn’t this
sound
exactly like your story? You, me, Philip, and Erik! It’s like the author peered straight into our lives!”
She pointed to the section of the synopsis where the soot-covered heroine lives with her stepmother and stepbrother, suffering through hardship.
“This part especially! It’s just like when the three of us were digging up tree roots to survive! Goodness… I should buy a copy of this when it’s out. I swear, it’s like they used us as inspiration!”
Yeah. That’s exactly what happened.
Margaret Beaufort…
Didn’t she swear she wouldn’t turn real people into fiction without consent?!
Well… she
did
say something strange back then.
“Ah, but surely I deserve some compensation for the photo, yes? I even had to delay my autobiography because of it.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll take your silence as approval. It’ll benefit you, too. You’ll see.”
So
that’s
what she meant!
And to top it off, the ending teaser in the ad—where the glass-slippered heroine flees midnight chores at the tavern and is found by a charming prince who kneels before her—was so well-written that it even made
my
heart flutter.
I could tell right away.
Yep. Another million-copy bestseller, for sure.
But the problem was… even people who didn’t personally know me or Erik could easily recognize us in the characters.
The heroine with fiery red curls, brown eyes tinged with amber like her hair, and a clumsy southern drawl that somehow makes her more charming—
…Am I supposed to feel insulted or flattered?
“Darliiiing!”
And yes, she calls the male lead
darling
. That’s just great.
The male lead—the prince—had a line that went:
“For your sake, I’d tear up a hundred paintings like this without hesitation.”
Unbelievable. So
that’s
what she meant by “compensation for the photo”?
Erik gently took the newspaper from my hands.
“So it’s true—Scarlet based her novel on us. I hear our reputations in the social realm have risen as a result. I never imagined so many noblewomen adored her books.”
He looked genuinely amazed.
I guess adoration and scorn are really just two sides of the same coin.
The very socialites who once despised me for
snatching up
the most eligible young master now seemed to admire me—seeing in me the rags-to-riches tale of a commoner winning a nobleman’s heart.
Well, it
helped
that Erik had publicly destroyed a priceless painting, danced with me at the Princess’s palace, and generally acted like a lovesick fool.
Mother beamed with smug satisfaction.
“See? Now everyone thinks your marriage is a glorious success story. In this land, there’s only one ‘legal’ way for a woman to turn her fortunes around—marrying well.”
Normally, I’d never have a comeback for that.
But today was different.
“Not always. There are exceptions—”
Because I happened to know a certain Princess…
A Princess who, I was sure, would
not
build her power through marriage.
“Some women make their own fortunes.”
Mother looked puzzled. “Who’s that supposed to be?”
“You’ll find out soon enough…”
Like, say, if the princess in this story becomes queen one day?
Sigh… I can’t help but root for her more and more.
This is bad… If this continues, I’ll be cheering for her from right by her side.
Anyway, what
really
matters is—
I’m going to have to see that cursed Vivian’s smug face again.
A wave of ominous dread washed over me.
Even worse—this time, thanks to that art salon incident, Erik and I had both gained a reputation boost. I had the
worst
,
most ominous
feeling she was going to use that to act like we were best spiritual sisters! Again! And again! And again!
But still, I couldn’t pass up this golden opportunity.
I told Mother,
“Tell the witch to spread a rumor—that Young Lord Erik and I paid off Wedgwood’s entire debt in full.”
“Huh? That kind of rumor?”
She looked shocked.
“Hey, if you do that, every loan cultivator from the region will start gathering around you two like—”
“That’s the point,” I whispered.
Mother blinked wide-eyed, then her face shifted into an expression that screamed
that’s my daughter
as she grinned slyly.
“Also make sure she lets it slip that we’ll be heading to the Southern Lands soon.”
As I said that and started to rise, I suddenly turned to her with a suspicious look.
“But why are you
still
in contact with the witch, anyway?”
“Us? We’re friends.”
…What?
“Since when?”
“Always?”
Mother winked smugly, then crossed her legs like a sect matron basking in her own brilliance.
“We got to talking, and she’s actually pretty decent—as long as she doesn’t go around bottling eyeballs for elixir pickling or whatever…”
Hah… that terrifying and dangerous woman—no,
those
dangerous women! So this is how it works: even yesterday’s foe can become today’s drinking companion if needed.
✵
✵
✵
Mother and I soon descended to the first floor together. Unlike before, where the Duke at least pretended to be polite, he didn’t even bother leaving his study this time, even knowing Mother was here.
The steward looked a little confused but still treated her with full courtesy.
Mother, with all the sweetness of a fox-spirit, gushed about how much she appreciated him and asked him multiple times to take good care of me.
“A warm foot bath is supposed to be great for expecting mothers… Aigoo, if I could just prepare one myself, it would ease my heart~”
She acted as if little Rosé was truly nestled within me, spouting concern like she was narrating a drama.
“Don’t worry, Madam! I’ve been caring for her diligently!”
The steward’s eyes shone with loyalty, and honestly, it even looked like he was slightly moved by Mother’s display of maternal instinct.
Mother, clearly enjoying how easily he was wrapped around her finger, chatted away. Then, in a low voice meant only for me, she muttered,
“Is he a spirit beast or a person…?”
“He’s a
person
. Be quiet.”
How dare she! That’s
our
steward, okay?! She doesn’t know how good he is!
As I glared at her, a strange realization suddenly hit me.
‘…Wait, why am I defending the steward so hard?’
Mother snorted. Then, with a face that said she’d confirmed everything she came to confirm, she boarded the carriage. Or at least, she
was
going to—until she pulled something out.
It looked just like the glass vial she’d once given me, claiming it was an insomnia potion. A vial filled with crimson liquid.
I recoiled and waved my hands in alarm.
“What is that?! Are you trying to feed me some mysterious elixir again?!”
“It’s not
that
! It’s just to restore your spiritual vitality! For long life and robust qi flow~”
She said it cheerfully—but winked not at me, but at Erik, who was standing a fair distance behind me.
Wait. A wink? Why is she
winking
?!
Panicking, I flailed my hands in between the two of them like a frantic warding talisman.
“Why are you giving that to
him
?! Your daughter is
right here
! Hello?!”
“It’s for you both to share. You’ve both had it rough lately, from what I’ve heard today.”
“…Thank you.”
At Erik’s polite reply, Mother smiled and responded with a twinkle in her eyes.
“I saw at the salon you can’t handle liquor well, so this time I brewed it as a
tea
. Ohohohoho~” I took the glass vial from Mother’s outstretched hand with a grimace on my face. This time, it was filled with a shimmering violet liquid. Before she could vanish into the carriage, I grabbed her wrist and demanded,
“What sort of ploy is this…?”
Feigning innocence with eyes wide as moonlight, she replied smoothly,
“Ploy? Don’t be silly. I’m just being kind to my son-in-law.”
“Son-in-law?! Don’t joke with me!”
I clenched my teeth. Helena chuckled softly and tapped my cheek.
“Why not? Erik of House Orléans is part of the family now, no?”
I shot a glance at Erik. He stepped back slightly, wearing a look too unreadable to place. In the meantime, Mother lowered her voice and murmured,
“Still… I’m relieved he seems intact.”
I fell silent.
I hadn’t told her yet.
I hadn’t told her that she lied—that she pretended to have slain Violod, when in truth she had hidden his survival from me.
In a flat voice, I muttered,
“He’s not entirely fine.”
“You don’t need to be entirely fine,” she said with a smile. “No one in this world truly is, Emelline.”
Helena laughed gently, the way only a woman who’d endured many winters could.
“Of course, I
wish
my daughter and son could be whole—but that’s a selfish dream. Everyone lives a little broken. But we live nonetheless.”
I pouted and crossed my arms.
“What does that even mean?”
“…Want a kiss, my little daughter?”
“Eugh! I’m not a child anymore!”
Laughing, she reached for my face, only for me to slap her hands away in mock horror. She pouted playfully,
“You’re so cruel~”
With that, she slammed the carriage door shut and took off without even a backward glance through the window.
I stood there fuming, glaring at the retreating back of the carriage.
Then Erik sidled up and plucked the violet vial from my hands.
“…?”
“It was given to me,” he said casually.
I let out a sharp breath and shot him a glare.
“She said it was
ours
, didn’t she?”
He only smirked faintly, then turned and headed toward the manor. I trailed after him, asking,
“But what if the Duke doesn’t approve of us heading south?”
Erik flinched—just barely—but then answered evenly,
“He won’t object. Around this time of year, I’ve always retreated to the southern manor. Even when I served as Commander of the Knight Battalion.”
“…Why this time of year?”
Just then—
BANG!
A shot rang out from the direction of the hunting grounds.
Seems our unhinged Duke, restless from too long being caged in his study, had taken to the hunt—or perhaps something had provoked his ire again.
I flinched at the sharp sound. Erik watched me with quiet worry, then gently offered the vial back.
In his crimson eyes shimmered something I hadn’t seen before.
Longing.
“…Next week is my mother’s memorial,” he said. “Since we’re
married
, it would only be right for you to accompany me.”
For some reason, his voice hesitated at the end, and he quickly turned his back and strode toward the estate.
BANG! BANG!
From afar, the sounds of the Duke slaughtering yet more prey echoed through the misty air.
I watched Erik’s back with a hard expression, then slowly lowered my gaze to the violet vial.
Only then did I realize what had flickered in his eyes—
Envy.
Mother’s words resurfaced in my mind:
“There’s no such thing as a perfectly fine person, Emelline.”
She was right. None of us are whole.
And yet…
Why is it that, for some reason, I keep wishing that
he
—that that young lord of crimson gaze—could be whole?
Of course, not just him.
I wish it for myself, too. For Helena.
And for Philip.
I wish we could all be whole.
Chapter 96