The moment I hugged Philip, a long-forgotten memory surfaced — back when I was growing like a weed under the rule of the Blue Beard Sect Master.
On the day I turned ten,
the Blue Beard Sect Master, known for the mysterious blue hair beneath his beard, brought in a new wife.
The fifth wife of Blue Beard.
Helena Ortega.
“Hello, your name is Emelin, right? I’m Helena. You really do look like me.”
With brown eyes and fiery red hair, Helena greeted me warmly.
‘From now on, I am your mother.’
‘Hello, stepmother. Let’s get along.’
‘Oh, what a cute child. Now, try calling me Mom?’
Unlike the other wives of Blue Beard who constantly forced the word “Mom,” Helena carefully spoke her own name instead.
And as she said, we really did look alike.
Half out of stubbornness, half out of curiosity, I responded,
“Hello, Helena.”
Would she hit me for not saying “Mom”? Or report me to Blue Beard like the others?
At ten years old, I raised my arm high,
waiting for the punch or kick that never came.
I looked up in confusion.
Then, from behind Helena, a skinny boy suddenly popped his head out.
“Hey, you idiot, what’re you doing?”
“...Come here, Philip.”
Only then did I realize that this insolent boy was the son the fifth wife had brought to Blue Beard.
“Wh-What are you doing…?”
While I stood there flustered, Philip spoke up in a trembling voice.
“Our Rose… Is Rose doing well…? It’s your uncle…”
Rose?
Who the hell was that?
I stood there, dumbfounded—until realization hit me like a lightning tribulation.
Ah… right.
That Rose
. The one supposedly in my belly…
...As if!
He actually believed that nonsense?
I looked at Philip, who was kneeling in front of me, with utter disbelief.
“You… You actually believed that…?”
I murmured, stunned. Philip looked up at me, his face suddenly cold.
The shift in his expression was so fast it sent goosebumps down my spine.
Was he always this good at acting?
While I was still trying to process everything, Philip ground his teeth and said,
“Believe it? No. Mother and I… we simply decided to change our strategy.”
“Change… strategy?” I asked, bewildered.
But Philip didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed my hand and dragged me up the platform. Then he turned toward the chaos below and shouted,
“Everyone, stop! Please, stop! Listen—my little sister is
pregnant
! What kind of barbarians draw blades in front of an expectant mother?! Oh, my dear niece…!”
I had to admit, I was impressed. The tears in Philip’s eyes were almost convincing.
He used to be the worst actor among us—but when did his cultivation in deception become so advanced?
My admiration didn’t last long. The moment his words echoed through the hall, both Eric and the Duke of Orléans turned to look at us.
Valdek’s face twisted in rage.
Eric’s eyes widened as he stared at me.
“Niece?”
The confusion on his face mirrored my own.
I had no answers either.
I’d explain… if I even knew what game they were playing.
While I was still frozen, trying to make sense of this madness, the temple doors slammed open. My mother entered, pale as death, supported by a knight.
She raised her voice.
“Duke Valdek, please stop! I have a letter here—written by Emelline herself! That child she carries… is our
granddaughter
…!”
Our granddaughter.
Now
that
was a loaded phrase.
But if Rose really was in my belly, then yes—she’d be Mom’s granddaughter… and also
Valdek’s
.
I gave a dry laugh as I watched my mother wave the letter with trembling fingers.
In that moment, I understood exactly what she and Philip meant when they said they were
changing direction
.
The chaos on the floor stilled. Every knight stopped fighting.
Valdek slowly walked up to my mother, his face like a thundercloud.
With a voice far colder than when he once proposed marriage to her, he growled,
“A letter? If you're lying…”
“I stake my life on it,” Mother replied softly.
Then she turned her gaze toward me.
I clenched my fists.
Valdek took the letter from her trembling hands and began to read.
As his eyes scanned the page, his expression darkened, breath by breath.
I turned to glare at Philip and whispered under my breath—quiet enough that the duke wouldn’t hear.
“So this was your plan? Squeeze a fortune out of the young lord while we’re at it?”
Philip furrowed his brow.
Truthfully, we were still neck-deep in the enormous debt left behind by the late Viscount Wedgwood. Southern loan sharks were practically waiting to skin us alive.
“Well… that too.”
Rustle.
The letter crumpled in Valdek’s fist.
“She wrote you should marry him if he’s decent enough for a lifetime bond.”
“…What?”
Who wrote that? Mother?
“Eric Orléans,” Philip said with a smirk. “She said he’s kind, honest… and his smile’s adorable.”
The second those words left his mouth, Valdek roared and hurled the letter aside.
“You put that in your letter?!”
Philip casually gestured toward Eric with his chin. "Anyway, Mother’s ultimate goal was always to marry you and me off to good matches, wasn’t it?"
Valdek shouted to his guards.
"Prepare at once!"
Then, turning to Eric with a steely gaze, he declared,
"We’re going to see His Majesty. He shall judge this matter."
Eric looked at me. I clenched my jaw.
Live together for life? As if.
I was going to return to my true family, no matter what.
I glanced toward Helena, who was pretending to faint with a face pale as a corpse.
‘…You miscalculated, Mother.’
✵
✵
✵
In the lavish palace banquet hall, the King sat with Robert, who was groveling with flattery and praise.
The doors opened, and Ella entered with a weary face. It was the unmistakable look of someone who had overslept. Bowing lazily to the King, she said,
"Good morning, Your Majesty."
"You’re late."
"You summoned me suddenly at dawn—how could I not be late?"
‘Ugh… I’m still sore from last night…’
Ella rolled her shoulders, still aching from her midnight guest, and glanced at Robert.
"You’re not even going to greet your elder sister?"
"I did greet you, Sister—perhaps your ears are blocked? Must be all the men you cycle through never bother to clean them for you."
Robert sneered. Ella snorted in reply.
"So those glares and scowls you threw at me when I walked in were your greeting? I guess court etiquette’s changed while I was asleep."
She adjusted her flowing robes and took her seat. Servants filled her goblet with wine.
The King, visibly annoyed at the tension between his children, cleared his throat and scolded Ella.
"Enough. You’re the elder—show some restraint. Let’s try to have a peaceful meal for once."
Elder,
he said.
Ella’s brow furrowed.
If she truly held seniority, would her throne be threatened by a younger brother born two years after her?
Her father always played mediator with honeyed words, silencing her while pretending to keep the peace.
Familiar bitterness rose in her throat as she took up her wine.
"And why, after twenty years of not caring, do we suddenly need a 'peaceful family meal'?"
The King exchanged a cryptic look with Robert, whose face beamed with self-satisfaction.
Ella felt an ominous chill.
Then the King spoke:
"This afternoon, Robert shall depart with Duke Gerda for an expedition into the frontier lands. The northern mines have long been sealed off by beasts and foreign tribes—troubles for the whole continent. Robert and the Duke will resolve this for us. So as his sister, offer him your blessing."
Clang!
Ella slammed her goblet down. The King remained unfazed, as though he had expected this.
"Who… with
who
… is going
where
… and you want me to
bless
them?"
Ella glared at Robert.
She had heard of this so-called ‘expedition,’ but never thought it would come so soon.
And
Duke Gerda
?
He was the one who had once tried to assassinate her.
A man with not even a speck of loyalty to the royal house was now aligning himself with Robert?
Chapter 34