When I arrived at the Imperial Palace, I found myself facing my older brother, Loxidian, in a large drawing room.
Though it was called a drawing room, it was so crowded with clothing racks that it resembled a high-end dress shop.
“You’re here.”
Loxidian glanced at me, his brow furrowing as he tilted his head.
“I sent Noah to fetch you. Why are you so late?”
Well, I came by carriage—but he seemed to brush off the explanation as if it were entirely irrelevant. At the tyrant’s gesture, someone opened the door and entered, bowing deeply.
“I greet the noble Duchess-To-Be. I am Bebeche, the Imperial dress designer.”
I tilted my head, ignoring the greeting. Why would a designer suddenly appear?
“Why did you call me here?”
“You are attending the upcoming Imperial Banquet, are you not?”
Ah, the banquet where my grandfather intends to announce the wedding date. I had completely forgotten about it. My mood soured instantly.
“I’m having your dress for the banquet made here today.”
“What do you mean, design it today?”
According to Charlize’s memories, high-ranking nobles usually had their banquet dresses custom-made at the palace. Trends dictated that one would select a design from a catalog, then modify the details to suit personal taste. Charlize was the type who would settle for nothing less than a perfect, bespoke fit.
“What are you talking about? There are plenty of designers exclusive to the Alzbeit estate.”
Like the extravagant villainess she was, Charlize retained more than five personal designers, whereas other noble houses barely kept one or two. There were countless people lining up to create pieces solely for her, so why here, of all places? I scowled, but Loxidian’s expression remained unmoved.
“Do you think those people compare to the talent affiliated with the Imperial Palace? The palace gathers only the best.”
I bristled at his insinuation that my own designers were inferior. The habit of flaring up whenever I felt looked down upon was still etched into Charlize’s body.
“Hurry up and take my measurements.”
“……I don’t want to. Why on earth are you involving yourself in this, Oppa?”
Loxidian retorted with a shameless expression, as if my question were absurd.
“Before you are the Duchess-To-Be of Alzbeit, you are the Emperor’s sister. Do you want your appearance to embarrass me? Absolutely not.”
……So now you care?
In Charlize’s memories, there wasn’t a single instance of him caring about his younger sister’s attire.
“Besides, it’s even more critical now. We have an agreement, don’t we?”
“……So that’s why you care?”
It was a contradictory statement. Whether I’m acting like a menace or not, my attire shouldn’t matter—right? But this brother of mine—I don’t know where he spent his youth—was insisting I fall in line. I felt a surge of irritation and reached for my necklace.
“You already borrowed the money, didn’t you? Do I really need to spell it out, oh debtor?”
He brought up the debt in such a petty way that I finally surrendered. Fine. It was my fault for borrowing it.
In the end, after a tedious tug-of-war, I agreed to the measurements and submitted quietly to the designer’s assistants. As they worked, Loxidian kept chattering from behind the curtain.
It was ear-piercingly annoying.
“You always choose those rags with plunging necklines. Aren’t you cold? Use this opportunity to dress properly. Do you understand?”
“What does it matter? I’ll wear whatever I want.”
“It matters because other idiots keep losing their minds over you. Huh?”
Ah, I remembered. He had mentioned cleaning up the messes Charlize made at the Imperial Palace several times.
Was he finally telling me to stop causing trouble?
“But didn’t you tell me to act even more like a villainess this time?”
I furrowed my brow at the contradiction.
“Are you telling me to act like a menace as usual, or not?”
“I’m telling you to do it!”
Then you should have said so clearly from the start. I grumbled to myself as I held a piece of fabric up to my body.
“I want to ask you one thing: does avoiding the Imperial Banquet entirely count as causing trouble?”
“Is that really being a menace?”
“……Tsk.”
“Why?”
“It’s nothing.”
I want to stop the wedding announcement. Is there no way?
“Hey, are you trying to skip it just to keep chasing after that guy from Remut? How much longer do you intend to follow that husk around?”
“Mind your own business.”
“Aren’t you ‘someone else’ to me?”
*Someone else,* I thought, and paused. I realized I was treating this man—my brother—a bit too comfortably.
The flow of our conversation felt hauntingly similar to my interactions with Yoon Ji-Hoon. Honestly, I found a strange sense of comfort in it.
I fell silent, lost in confusion. When he sensed something amiss, another prickly remark came my way. I quickly pushed the odd sensation aside and found myself retorting out of habit.
I heard a small laugh and turned my head, catching one of the assistants stifling a giggle. The moment our eyes met, her face went deathly pale.
“I-I’m sorry. I’ve committed a crime punishable by death! I-I just thought that you two, who look so much alike, have such a good relationship…….”
Just then, I finished dressing and the curtain was pulled back. The tyrant witnessed the assistant kneeling on the ground.
His gaze shifted to me, silently demanding to know what was going on.
“Well, we’re siblings, so of course we have a good relationship. Get up.”
“……I-I apologize.”
“Never mind.”
I shrugged it off. But for some reason, a strange gaze remained fixed on me.
When I turned, the designers and assistants were all staring. Noah, who stood beside the tyrant, and even Loxidian wore similar expressions.
“……Are you going to kill that assistant later? Or fire her?”
“What nonsense. Why would I?”
“No, well. You always retaliated if something rubbed you the wrong way.”
The tyrant leaned back in his chair, chin resting on his hand. He smirked.
“You used to hate being told you looked like me more than anything.”
Ah. That was something I could certainly see myself hating.
Not all siblings are the same, but in my experience, people generally loathe being compared to their kin. Did Charlize feel the same? I, too, had despised it when people asked if I was just the female version of Yoon Ji-Hoon.
“I still hate it.”
“Then why aren’t you dragging her off?”
“It’s a hassle.”
When I gave a response Charlize might have given, Loxidian hummed and moved on.
Once the lower measurements were taken, it was time to measure my arms and shoulders. There was no need to close the curtain for this, so they measured me as I was.
It wasn’t just the Imperial designer’s assistants mobilized for this; Imperial maids had been brought in as well. It wasn’t hard to tell them apart, as their uniforms were distinct.
“Duchess-To-Be, could you please lift your arm this way?”
As I lifted my arm and looked down, I paused.
*Hmm?*
My gaze shifted to the maid holding the measuring tape to my arm. To be exact, my eyes landed on the hairpin tucked into her hair.
That hairpin…… It’s mine, isn’t it?
There was no way I wouldn’t recognize it.
Charlize had possessed countless accessories, but she had favorites, and I had personally chosen this one to take to the Remut Territory. I had selected it with the desperate hope that my fiancé might look at me even a little more favorably. There was no way I could forget it.
Moreover, it was a pin the young ladies at the gathering of scoundrels had constantly complimented as beautiful, so there was no chance I wouldn’t recognize it.
‘This pin is definitely…….’
I had given this pin as a gift to a little child.
To the smallest and tiniest child among those who gave me wild strawberries.
“Piren, ah, Piren is my younger sister, she……. She lost the hairpin the Duchess-To-Be gave her……. So she wandered around outside until night trying to find it, and she c-caught a cold.”
The hairpin the child said she lost was pinned into the hair of an Imperial maid. Could it really be a coincidence?
I lowered my arm.
Taken aback by my sudden movement, the assistants, maids, and even the designer stared at me in surprise.
“D-Duchess-To-Be……? Is something wrong?”
The designer asked cautiously, but I kept my gaze fixed on the maid wearing the pin.
“You, where did you get that pin?”
Naturally, all eyes turned toward her.
The maid turned pale in an instant, breaking into a cold sweat as if she had never expected to be questioned.
I felt the tyrant watching from a distance, looking intrigued. Whether she liked it or not, I strode toward her. The maid collapsed to the floor with a thud.
“Why aren’t you answering? Can’t you hear me?”
In the silenced room, only the sound of my approaching footsteps echoed.
The maid hurriedly scrambled to change her posture, dropping to her knees and bowing her head deeply.
“I, I am sorry! Duchess-To-Be! I, I do not know what happened, but this hair clip was given to me by my lover!”
Lover? My expression soured.
Perhaps out of terror, the maid spilled the details one after another.
I heard her boyfriend’s name, but I didn’t recognize him. However, one detail struck me like a physical blow.
“……Your lover is one of my escort knights?”
The fact that this maid’s lover was one of my own escort knights left me cold.
I immediately ordered that the knight be brought in.
Loxidian watched it all, leaning his chin on his hand like a detached bystander. I was too furious to care about his presence.
Soon, the escort knight in question entered the Dress Shop.
His expression shifted from bewildered to deathly pale as he looked at me, then at his lover, and finally, at the hair clip in my hand.
“She said you gave her this hair clip?”
The knight’s name was Martin.
As expected, it was a name that did not exist in Charlize’s memories.
However, his face felt hauntingly familiar.
“Why were you in possession of my hair clip?”