1.
Beatrice Lavalle was still beautiful. Her lush silver hair shone with a brilliant luster, and her unique pink eyes seemed as if they could bewitch anyone. She looked like a spring fairy who could have anything her heart desired—lovely and radiant.
However, having rushed here, she could not simply embrace Peon as was her habit. Peon was already holding Kaella, shielding her as if to protect her from the very air Beatrice breathed.
The expression on his face, as he gave his arms entirely to his wife, was so lethal that Beatrice, who had been approaching, faltered without realizing it. Kaella tried to look ahead, but her view was blocked by Peon’s thick forearms.
“Did the Emperor send you?”
“Well, obviously, His Majesty sent me via a magical artifact. Why are you asking in such a murderous tone?”
Beatrice looked at Peon with an expression of disbelief before narrowing her eyes. He had certainly become strange since his marriage. He had become so strange that she had come to set him back to the way he was.
“Wilberg.”
When Peon called out in a cold, sharp voice, Kaella’s shoulders startled and flinched. He wrapped his gloved hand around those shoulders, summoning the knight responsible for the security of Lyussenford Castle. Sir Wilberg, who had been standing nearby, stepped forward quickly.
“It seems His Majesty has sent someone other than the investigator. See to it that she is escorted according to procedure.”
Sir Wilberg understood exactly what that meant.
“Yes, Your Excellency. Greetings, Lady Lavalle. I am Sir Wilberg, the knight in charge of Lyussenford security. You are the envoy sent by His Majesty to this military operation zone, are you not?”
“That’s right!”
Beatrice lifted her chin and retorted sharply. She wasn’t looking at Sir Wilberg; she was glaring at Peon.
“Then you must be carrying a royal letter of intent?”
“Don’t you know that my very presence is the Emperor’s letter? Didn’t you see how I arrived in Lyussenford just now?”
Everyone in Lyussenford knew that anyone stepping out of golden light was undoubtedly an envoy sent by the Emperor.
However, as Lyussenford was a military operation zone—locked in constant war against the evil dragon Gwasalante and the barbarians from the north—such a sudden and overly central-aristocratic entrance was a dangerous act that disrupted the entire military operation.
While Kaella, who had been new to Lyussenford, might not have known this, she had lived here for four years now and understood these matters well enough.
“Bea, let’s go inside for now.”
Peon whispered to Kaella, trying to lead her away.
“No. We have an honored guest from Krain; we cannot leave it all to Sir Wilberg.”
Though she had stepped forward because of Peon—who was a man of principles and procedure—there was no way Sir Wilberg could handle Lady Lavalle, a woman sent by the Emperor and a childhood friend of the Grand Duke, all by himself.
Strangely enough, Kaella grabbed the arm Peon was using to shield and lead her away. The arm that had been holding her so softly yet firmly instantly lost its tension. It was quite odd, but it was for the best anyway. Kaella slowly pushed that arm aside and stepped forward.
“I must properly welcome the noblewoman sent by His Majesty. Welcome, sister.”
Beatrice turned her head away from Sir Wilberg with a scoff.
“Bea.”
The man burdened with sins tried to stop his wife once more, but his wife, facing the woman whom the world insistently called her rival, walked forward.
“I imagine the journey wasn’t uncomfortable. How is the Emperor doing?”
“He is in good health. Kaella, you are just the same, aren’t you? It’s obvious how you’ve been living without even having to ask.”
To the casual, intimate tone that immediately followed, Kaella wore a smile that didn’t reach her heart.
“How is the Empress?”
“The same. Still unconscious… and no sign of her waking up.”
Beatrice muttered gloomily. Was that sincere? Or not? Of course, it wasn’t something Kaella needed to know. She was used to Beatrice Lavalle, who had been barging into Lyussenford without rhyme or reason for the past four years, turning the place upside down.
“His Majesty must be deeply worried. Is this all the luggage you brought?”
Kaella asked, looking back at the massive pile of trunks. It was strange. It seemed less than usual.
“Yes, this is all… wait, no it isn’t? Huh? Uh?”
Beatrice looked back at the pile of trunks, her pink eyes widening as she began to count them.
“No, why is there only half?”
This was a disaster. Beatrice’s face turned deathly pale. The trunks were filled with clothes, shoes, hats, gloves, and various accessories to match every occasion and mood. Those were her armor and her weapons—the armor and weapons needed to face a cold, distant Peon. Yet, more than half had vanished. How?
“It seems some were left behind on your way.”
“Left behind? How could that even happen?”
The Emperor’s magical artifacts were diverse, and each possessed astonishing power. The artifact that could effortlessly transport many people and objects over long distances at once made the Emperor an even more terrifying existence. The Emperor could go anywhere, and he could send his armies anywhere.
*Let everyone submit to the omnipotent Emperor. He is the god who rules over us.*
“It makes no sense.”
Beatrice muttered the same words over and over. It made no sense. It was impossible. All the magical artifacts had functioned properly, as they always had. How could an artifact that had been passed down for centuries without a single error make a mistake now?
Peon, who knew this well, just like Beatrice, was lost in thought as he looked at Beatrice and the woefully small number of trunks. Only Kaella waved her hand with a formal smile.
“Come inside for now. It’s cold.”
The warm welcome from someone completely uninterested in their crisis—or perhaps their opportunity—sounded somehow slightly off.
･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ･
Beatrice did not panic. She was the flower of the social world, and as long as she didn’t lose her composure, she could make anyone her ally. She needed to use her bright, bubbly, and cheerful personality—the one northerners were especially fond of—to drag the distant Peon back to her side.
And she had to expand her influence in Lyussenford, to become a more prominent noblewoman than the Grand Duchess herself. Only then could she survive.
From childhood, and until Peon was married, she had been steadily and diligently working. She had covered his eyes, blocked his ears, and placed suggestions and bans upon him. It was a subtle, exquisite restriction that had taken years to perfect, one that no one—not even the Emperor—could break.
Peon could not betray Beatrice.
That was why Beatrice did not panic. She had only come to make that absolute proposition even more secure. After all, one must never be off guard.
“The castle is a bit chaotic. We are in the middle of major construction. Watch your step. The snow is melting, so there is a lot of mud.”
Kaella walked away, muttering in a tone that showed not a shred of concern for Beatrice. She walked with confidence, as if she were already well-acquainted with Lyussenford Castle. Unlike Krain, where flowers were in full bloom and the weather was growing warm, the snow in Lyussenford was only just beginning to melt. Thanks to that, the paths were muddy, the stone floors were dirty, and the surroundings were incredibly noisy. She wondered why she could hear so many children.
“Kaella, I heard you almost died?”
Beatrice asked abruptly.
“Something about eating something wrong. But I guess you’re doing fine?”
Her voice was full of malice. Was she annoyed and displeased by the fact that Kaella was playing the role of the Grand Duchess of Lyussenford? Was it because she was a wretched girl who had taken everything Beatrice didn’t have?
But Beatrice had Peon—why was she like this? Kaella couldn’t understand. If one had Peon, hadn’t they already had everything? There would be no need to constantly prove oneself or fight. How convenient was that?
“I’m getting along just fine.”
“No, you are not getting along fine.”
Suddenly, a strange voice cut in, and Beatrice flinched. *Strange.* Yes, it was strange. It was strange to hear Peon’s voice, directed at a woman other than her, sounding so polite. It was strange to hear him use honorifics toward that ugly Kaella De Chasseur, the annoying little sister who used to pester him every day to play.
Beatrice was not as naive as Kaella; she checked again to make sure to whom and how those words were directed. *He uses honorifics with that pitiful, boring girl who is no fun to play with?*
“You are still receiving treatment, Your Excellency. The investigator sent by His Majesty will be arriving soon, so you must recover well until then. You have already moved around too much today.”
“I am fine.”
That phrase again. How could she fix that habit of brushing things off by saying she was “fine” when she clearly wasn’t? Peon wanted to wipe Beatrice Lavalle—who had suddenly appeared in Lyussenford as always, making everything uncomfortable—right out of existence. That would be easier. It would make it look as if he hadn’t committed the sins he had.
The shameless mongrel, the filthy illegitimate child who knew no shame, was trying to conveniently erase her own sins. Honestly, it was a very intriguing situation for onlookers. The people of Lyussenford were already accustomed to Beatrice Lavalle, who would visit from time to time, wearing an expression that suggested she was forced to by the Emperor’s magical artifact, or that she was exhausted from the long journey by land. It meant everyone knew what her relationship with the Grand Duke was.
However, the Grand Duke had married another woman—the daughter of the very wealthy Duke Ostain—and Beatrice had appeared again just after that precious lady had almost died here.
There hadn’t even been a moment to call it a honeymoon, and yet, again.
“What are you two doing?”
A snort of laughter erupted.
“What is with the honorifics? It’s creepy… just do as you always did! What’s with the formal speech between us? It’s so strange.”
Beatrice held her stomach and giggled. It felt ridiculous for two people who had played together since childhood to use honorifics. It felt like they were playing house, awkwardly stumbling through roles—’you be the father, I’ll be the mother’—like children clumsily pretending to be adults. To Beatrice, it was unbearably strange and laughable.
Perhaps it was because the very fact that Kaella and Peon were married was, to her, strange and laughable.
“It is the law. It is quite awkward between those who haven’t known each other long.”
Peon was about to lose his temper, but Kaella was faster. He dared not cut her off.
“I envy how free you always are, sister.”
“Don’t you think you’re being overly old-fashioned?”
“Yes. I envy it. Let’s go now.”
Beatrice stared at Kaella, whose face had turned pale, as she walked inside with a light, graceful step. She had said she envied the woman who had everything, but why didn’t it sound like a compliment?
*‘She isn’t being sincere.’*
She had just tossed the response away, knowing it was the answer Beatrice wanted to hear so that she would be quiet.
The moment she realized it, Beatrice’s pink eyes narrowed. *No way.* There was no way that dull-witted Kaella De Chasseur could have reached such a level.
That couldn’t be it. Kaella sincerely envied and was jealous of Beatrice. Because the Peon she loved had always looked at Beatrice. The Duke’s daughter would never admit or even say that fact out loud because of her pride. And yet, she could say the word “envy” so easily?
“For now, let’s have your luggage brought inside. And the room you’ll be staying in… is there one?”
Kaella muttered, looking at the Chief Maid instead of Peon, who looked as if he had a lot to say. Fabiola Cirenster had a troubled expression.
“The situation is not good. As you know, we are renovating all the rooms, and since Your Excellency is not staying in your own bedroom…”
That was how chaotic Lyussenford Castle was, but Beatrice interjected.
“Then which room is Your Excellency using?”
Since the question was directed at the Chief Maid, she had no choice but to answer.
“Your Excellency is staying in the Grand Duke’s bedroom.”
No, that was something Fabiola Cirenster, who felt an inexplicable irritation toward this fluttering daughter of Duke Monde, wanted to point out specifically. She knew why she had wanted to say it the moment the daughter of Duke Monde’s expression cracked. The Chief Maid felt a sense of relief.
“Peon’s…?”
*They share the same bedroom?* Beatrice’s voice trembled of its own accord. Peon, who had never had any woman other than her—no, actually, the Peon she didn’t even know, that stone-faced man, was sharing a bed with Kaella?
The Chief Maid looked at her as if she didn’t understand the problem. The Grand Duke and the Grand Duchess were a married couple; therefore, it was only natural for them to use the same bedroom. Even if it was because Kaella had collapsed and Peon had brought her directly to his bedroom instead of that dreadful Grand Duchess’s room, it was nonetheless entirely natural.
Even though Beatrice knew in her head that it was obvious, she was deeply shocked.
It wasn’t for nothing that the Emperor had pressured her to go to Lyussenford. Peon, who should have been pining only for her, was sharing a bedroom with another woman. There was a problem with the restriction. If so, what use was Beatrice to the Emperor?
“Then that means the Grand Duchess’s bedroom is empty?”
*No. That cannot be.* The world was a place of constant struggle, and Beatrice had to climb up to that high place while carrying the burden of a lowly family, an unsatisfying position, and debts.
“Then you can give that room to me. I am an important person sent by His Majesty, so isn’t it only natural to give me the best room?”
She had to seize the position of the Grand Duchess, drive out the real one, and once again become the Emperor’s useful hostage and the trap to bind Peon’s ankles.
Beatrice Lavalle was inherently shameless and knew exactly how to grate on people’s nerves. And because people didn’t change easily, she, for whom being loved was always a matter of course, could not understand the situation of being unloved.
Peon felt his self-restraint completely shatter.
“Very well.”
While everyone stood in stunned silence and Peon was just about to open his mouth, a bright, clear voice answered.
“Since you are an honored guest, you should use the best room. Do as she says. Chief Maid, have Lady Lavalle’s trunks moved to my bedroom.”
Kaella kept her picturesque smile and nodded.