It wasn’t a lie to say he resembled that man. Except that Eric d’Orléans was easily twice as handsome as that actor ever was.
Still, the moment Philip reads this part of the letter, I know exactly what he’ll shout—“Lies!” That’s just how he is. If a man looks better than he does, Philip’s default response is blind jealousy.
And more than anything else—he’s kind.
As for Mother…
Her reaction? Totally unpredictable.
She’s honest. Pure-hearted. Has a smile that could charm even the Jade Fox of Mount Tianxuan.
Will she feel betrayed? Or furious? She wouldn’t cry… right?
But you know, being with
him
, even when we were locked up in that cold, narrow chamber—it wasn’t as hard as I thought it’d be. Maybe because he’s nothing like the people from the Veillord or Wedgwood clans.
Shocking, right? I was shocked too.
I can’t help but wonder—if just one person like that had existed in my life earlier… wouldn’t everything have been different?
At the very least, this one line is my sincere truth:
“If even one person like that had existed in my life before now, everything might’ve changed.”
The real problem is… there wasn’t. Not once. Not ever.
…Of course, that’s not how this letter ends—with sincerity and soul-searching truth.
Because after that part, it continues like this:
You’re probably wondering why I’m running away, huh? Well, the thing is…
At this point, I came up with the perfect reason to make sure Mother
wouldn’t
come looking for me.
I’m pregnant!
Yes—
pregnant
!
I mean, really, what better excuse is there? An unwed daughter getting pregnant before the wedding? On the
eve
of the ceremony?
Public humiliation of the highest realm. Shame layered over shame. A total spiritual backlash to the face!
Ha! Congratulations to me!
I’m going to name the baby
Rose
. And I’m heading to visit
his
hometown, to greet his parents. So, don’t come looking. Just go through with the wedding, alright?
And if you ever want to see your cute little granddaughter, well—don’t get in the way.
Bye-bye!
Philip—take care of Mom!
Mother—keep Philip from doing anything reckless!
I’ll be back safely, everyone! I’ll miss you all!
“EMELIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!”
Even now, I could already hear my mother’s piercing roar echoing through the heavens.
Sure, it’s going to be a shock. But what can you do? If I want to make sure she doesn’t come searching for me for a full day, this is the only path left in my spiritual manual.
Once she reads the letter, she’ll squeeze out the last dregs of her patience to wait for me. I know it.
“…What exactly did you write in that letter?” Lily asked, her voice trembling as she watched Eric stagger like someone who had just taken a blow from a nascent soul cultivator.
I just patted Lily on the shoulder without a word.
Poor Lily.
She was definitely going to face a terrifying tribulation at the manor—from my mother herself.
I’m pregnant!
Haha, congratulate me!
We’re thinking of naming our child
Rose
. So we’re off to visit his parents in his hometown for a bit.
So don’t try to interfere, and go ahead with your wedding properly, okay? If you want to see your adorable granddaughter’s face someday!
Goodbye, goodbye!
Philip, take good care of Mom!
Mom, keep an eye on Philip so he doesn’t do anything stupid!
I’ll be back soon, everyone! I’ll miss you all!
—
Helena had returned to the estate after scouring the entire city for her daughter, who had suddenly vanished from the central temple. What she received upon arrival was a letter Lily claimed to have found in Imelin’s wardrobe—alongside a shredded yellow bridesmaid’s dress.
Imelin had expected her mother to scream with rage, but Helena’s reaction was... different.
She read the letter with a perfectly composed face.
Lily, unnerved by Helena’s eerie calm, peered carefully at her mistress’s expression.
Just what could she have written...? It's just a runaway note, right?
Curiosity getting the better of her, Lily cautiously asked, “Um... what does it say?”
Helena slowly lifted her gaze. Her lips—beautiful enough to make one forget her age—curved upward in a graceful arc. As if she hadn’t even heard Lily’s question, she murmured to herself:
“Ah... honestly... Imelin... Imelin...”
A chill ran down Lily’s spine. She instinctively stepped back, realizing that one more word could trigger something dangerous.
In the most polite tone she could muster, Lily said to Helena and Philip, “I’ll... contact the city constables and—”
“No.”
Helena raised a hand, cutting her off.
Philip, wide-eyed, turned to her. “Why not? We have to find Imelin! If she disappeared from the temple, she probably pulled another window-climbing stunt—”
He cut himself off mid-sentence and slapped a hand over his mouth. Helena narrowed her eyes at him.
“
Another
?”
“I-I mean, you know, that’s her specialty. Climbing out windows, vanishing into the night... the usual…”
Helena shot him a look so sharp he shut his mouth immediately.
As Philip stood frozen with tension, Helena turned to Lily with a disturbingly kind smile.
“Lily, sorry to trouble you, but can you delay the dinner with the Duke by thirty minutes?”
“Ah… yes, of course, Lady Helena.”
A true veteran of service, Lily asked no further questions. Yet Helena walked over to her dressing table, opened a small chest, and handed Lily a single diamond.
“Oh, and the letter says she went to get some fresh air at a friend’s estate in the countryside.”
Her tone didn’t match the content. She looked far too serious for something so mundane.
“...Have you ever raised a daughter, Lily?”
The energy in her voice sent a strange pressure over Lily. She shook her head.
“If you had, you’d understand… the bond between mother and daughter is always complicated. Seems my little girl’s feeling conflicted now that I’m getting married. But reporting this to the Duke and sullying her honor over such a trivial matter... wouldn’t that be disgraceful?”
Helena smiled sweetly.
A peculiar light gleamed in her brown eyes.
Lily had experienced murderous pressure before—from Erik, whenever they trained together. As a cultivator born with innate spiritual energy, and trained in the Orléans clan’s secret techniques, Erik could manifest terrifying killing intent. Having trained alongside him for years, Lily had developed resistance to even strong combat auras.
And yet here she was—being overwhelmed by the smile of a woman who had no cultivation, no aura.
And yet it was
far more terrifying.
“Y-yes, Lady Helena… I suppose so.”
Lily bowed her head, unable to meet Helena’s eyes directly.
As she accepted the diamond from Helena’s hand and stepped out, she hesitated for a moment at the door—glancing back to see Helena’s smile had already vanished.
✵
✵
✵
After confirming that Lily had fully exited and the door was shut, Philip snatched the letter from Helena’s hand.
“She really said she went out to get some fresh air in the outskirts? What kind of nonsense did she write…”
His voice cut off midway through reading.
As he continued, Philip’s face slowly twisted into an expression of horror.
Once he finished, he looked up with a face full of fury.
“She’s lost her mind, hasn’t she? That lunatic Emelline! We have to find her, Mother! Ugh, but we
can’t
let the Duke find out about this… Even now she’s worried about your wedding, damn it…”
Philip pointed at the bottom of the letter with a troubled expression.
So don’t come looking. Just go ahead with the wedding! If you ever want to see your adorable granddaughter’s face, you know what to do!
Bye-bye!
Philip, look after Mom!
Mom, keep Philip from doing something dumb!
I’ll be back safely, everyone! I’ll miss you all!
Helena glanced at the section Philip was pointing to, then clicked her tongue. Philip looked at her with confusion.
Without a word, Helena took the letter back and sat down on the sofa.
“What’s wrong?”
Philip asked, puzzled, as Helena silently looked between the letter and the torn-up bridesmaid dress on the floor.
She tapped her finger against the armrest of the sofa, her gaze narrowing.
“You really think these words mean she’s worried about my wedding? To
me
, it sounds like the exact opposite.”
There was an undercurrent in Helena’s voice that made Philip widen his eyes like a rabbit caught in a hunter’s gaze.
Sometimes, Philip struggled to grasp what his mother—or Emelline—really meant when they spoke.
“What family? Has any of Mom’s husbands ever treated me like their own?”
“Don’t you think people should learn something from failure, Philip? Maybe Orléans is no different from the rest.”
Words like those, which Emelline had muttered just yesterday morning.
Helena watched as Philip’s expression shifted further into bewilderment. She let out a sigh, clearly unimpressed.
“What she means is this:
If you want the wedding to go smoothly, don’t come looking for me.
”
“Huh?”
Philip tilted his head.
Helena recalled the rumors that had swirled during the royal banquet:
“So the one Lady Emelline met at 'The Rose That Blooms at Night'… wasn’t it the princess and Prince Eric?”
“It might only be a matter of time before the princess and Prince Eric are betrothed…”
Though the nobles tried to speak in hushed tones in her presence, Helena had overheard the truth behind Vivian’s scheme in a tearoom.
Vivian had seen Emelline at The Rose That Blooms at Night.
“That girl’s never shown any interest in men before…”
“And with Prince Eric of all people? The one she always said she hated…”
Just then, Philip suddenly stood up with wide eyes.
“W-wait! Emelline met someone at The Rose That Blooms at Night?”
“…You’re only realizing this now?”
Helena answered with disbelief as Philip muttered behind his hand,
“Then that night she climbed through the window and stayed out all night… she was with Eric?”
Helena shot up from the sofa. “Stayed out?!”
This was news to her. Philip turned to his mother with a panicked look.
“Mother…”
“Speak.”
“I-I’m not totally sure…”
“Speak, my son. The rise and fall of our household depends on this.”
Philip frantically shook his head and backed away. But he had never once been able to defy Helena.
“Well… um, you see…”
A short while later, having heard the story of Imelin’s overnight excursion, Helena summoned Lily.
“We shouldn’t delay tonight’s dinner with the Duke. Let’s keep the schedule.”
“Pardon?”
Lily looked between Helena and the now shell-shocked Philip in confusion.
“She’s not coming. Leave her be, Lily.”
✵
✵
✵
Two hours later, Helena arrived alone at the Duke’s manor.
“Imelin said she may not be able to serve as a handmaiden tomorrow… she’s unwell. It’s such a shame, Your Grace.”
With a truly regretful expression, Helena offered the Duke a gentle smile.
Lily, who had accompanied her, felt a chill crawl down her spine at Helena’s perfect display of acting. She rubbed her arms, then excused herself, leaving the two alone in the drawing room.
Valdek Orléans looked concerned. “I see. It’s nothing serious, I hope?”
“Just a passing wind-cold. She should recover soon. She was worried she might pass it on to you. She’s my daughter, but in moments like that… she really seems like an angel.”
Helena smiled softly and sat upon the drawing room’s couch. Valdek returned the smile.
“That must be because she takes after you, Helena.”
Yes. Imelin is just like me.
The curt way she spoke, the brown eyes… but more than that, it was those moments when her heart became utterly unreadable.
Philip always wore his emotions on his sleeve, but Imelin was the opposite. When her thoughts tangled, she fell silent, retreating into her own internal world.
In those times, Imelin resembled someone drowning—not struggling, not calling for help, simply sinking, letting her own weight pull her into the breathless depths.
Just like Helena had at twenty.
Imelin spent the night with Erik that day… then the man in her letter—was that Erik?
Helena recalled Philip’s words: Imelin had stayed with Erik all night.
Why?
“Being with him… even a small, dark space didn’t feel that suffocating.”
Her head swirled.
Helena already knew. Imelin wasn’t like Philip—she had no interest in men or romance.
Not because she was dispassionate, but because she was still afraid of men with large frames.
Except for Philip.
At that moment, the door to the drawing room opened and a man entered. Upon meeting Helena’s eyes, he hesitated briefly and offered a polite bow.
“You’re here, madam.”
So he was home after all.
Erik Orléans.
Helena watched for a moment, taking in the sight of Erik standing before her—despite the steward having claimed he would return late.
“…?”
Both Erik and Valdek stared at her curiously.
It was natural.
Though Helena was soon to become Erik’s stepmother, there remained a clear gap in their cultivation status and social standing—she was from a minor noble house, after all.
Helena, seated calmly on the sofa, let the silence linger long enough to draw visible discomfort from the others. Then, at last, she rose.
She walked over to Erik, who was clearly uncertain, and looked up at him—this man who towered above her.
He’s tall.
This man—broader in frame than even Philip.
Just where on this man…
If I’d met even one person like him earlier in my life… wouldn’t everything have turned out differently?
Though, come to think of it, everything
has
already changed.
What part of him was it… that altered Emelline?
“Does she even like the Duke of Orléans, even a little?”
Helena found herself wanting to return Emelline’s question in kind.
Come to think of it… in that letter of yours, you never once said it. Not once did you write,
“I like him,”
or
“I love him.”
Helena glanced over at Eric and offered a gentle smile.
“You’re quite handsome. Every time I see you.”
“...Pardon?”
“You resemble an actor I once saw in a traveling troupe long ago.”
Eric’s brow twitched, and he subtly avoided her gaze.
Helena recalled Emelline’s letter:
He’s honest. And kind.
His smile is adorable.
Honest.
Yes… at the very least, Emelline was right about that.
Just as Helena was considering this, the steward called from behind.
“Dinner is served, Madam.”
At his words, Helena turned around.
Watching the Duke and Eric head toward the dining hall, she followed at a casual pace—until she reached the window and came to a halt.
That woman—the one who succumbed to madness and died. The one who died in the woods near the Duke’s manor. That place is deep, really deep in the forest. There was an old shed used by the hunting ground’s keeper. I still wonder—how did the keeper even manage to travel there every day?
She recalled what Philip had told her after visiting the Duke’s estate, and her gaze fell upon the dense forest in the distance. Her slender, pale fingers brushed lightly against her chin.
How could a deranged woman have wandered that deep into the forest—so far even the keeper himself barely makes the journey—and still made it out again…?
Chapter 31