But then, Eric suddenly asked something completely out of left field.
“Earlier… did you happen to touch my body?”
“…Excuse me?”
I blinked at him, watching him absentmindedly rub his cheek.
This guy, seriously. From just now—
“Honestly… the way you keep bringing it up, you’re starting to sound like the one who
wants
something. Should I go ahead and lay my hands on you now?”
I made a teasing lunge toward him, and Eric flinched like a startled beast, waving his arms defensively.
“...No!”
“Then stop bringing it up. Enough!”
I really thought he was going to start talking about the journal again…
I exhaled and tried to calm the wild thumping of my heart.
When I had a moment alone, I’d need to read through the deceased Duchess’s journal in more detail. There might be clues hidden within.
“Thanks to Her Highness locking us in here, we’ll be delayed in getting to the Duke’s estate. That was probably part of her scheme too.”
“…The Duke’s estate?”
My eyes widened.
I’d just barely escaped marrying that old viper—now you’re telling me I still have to go to his manor?
Eric nodded.
“Of course. You now belong to the House of the Duke, Imelin… Orléans.”
Orléans.
The name sent a chill crawling up my spine.
My third name.
Imelin Orléans.
The first was
Imelin Violod
, the second
Imelin Wedgwood
.
Both lives were equally cursed.
What would this one be?
I had always borne the names of those who ruined my life.
So what of Orléans?
I stared up at Eric quietly.
Was this man the one who would ruin me… or the one who might save me?
“Do you think the Duke will really permit this?”
I asked. After all, thanks to me, his grand scheme had gone up in smoke.
“He already has. Didn’t you hear him? He told His Majesty he’d accept you as the House’s daughter-in-law.”
‘I shall accept her as my daughter-in-law, as one of my own bloodline, Your Majesty.’
I remembered that chilling look in the Duke’s eyes. That suffocating, inhuman gaze.
“If I enter the Duke’s estate… I doubt I’ll walk out again.”
This was the same man who murdered my entire family simply for obstructing his plans.
And I was the very person who had ruined his latest one, right out in the open.
There was no way he’d let me live.
Bang!
I remembered the sensation of the bullet that tore through my chest.
It hadn’t felt like a bullet, but a massive stone slamming into me.
I instinctively pressed a hand to my chest.
“You’re not the only one he won’t leave alone.”
Eric spoke flatly.
“…?”
Wait. Did he mean
he
was in danger too?
I frowned.
“But… you’re his son. The heir to the House. You’re the only one he’s got.”
“Does that really matter?”
“…What do you mean?”
“A hound that breaks free of its master’s leash, no matter how skilled, must be put down. That’s what he always said.”
A shadow passed through Eric’s crimson eyes.
His expression tightened in pain.
“…That’s how my mother was discarded too. I wonder… what her crime was.”
Unconsciously, my hand drifted toward the journal tucked beneath my petticoat.
I’d already seen the final pages.
I had a feeling I knew the answer.
But the questions still remained.
To the outside world, they had been a loving couple—devoted to each other. They even had this outrageously handsome son. And yet… what reason could possibly justify one person killing another?
Is there truly such a reason?
I clenched my fists and stepped closer to him. Even under the dim glow of the lantern crystal, I could see his lower lip was badly swollen.
I changed the subject, almost casually.
“So, you used to be a Commander of the Knight Order? Really? That’s hard to believe—your combat skills were trash.”
Of course, it was a lie.
I clearly remembered how, back at the temple, when Eric had picked up a sword, he’d knocked away the knights’ longswords like they were nothing but fallen leaves in the wind.
Eric gave a disbelieving scoff. “I let him hit me.”
“Pfft~ What a lie.”
But even as I teased him, I knew it was true.
He
had
let himself be struck.
Philip couldn’t fight to save his life. It wasn’t just that he was bad—he was catastrophically, embarrassingly terrible.
He'd gotten himself beaten up by more than one furious cultivator after flirting with someone else's lover.
"It was forty-on-one. Obviously, I was the one."
"Don't worry. Even if it had been forty-on-forty, you'd still have lost."
I remembered all too well the times I had applied salve to Philip’s bruised lips.
He wasn’t small, but Eric had at least two fists more in the shoulders than him.
I stared up at Eric, towering over me in this closed, shadowed space.
Why is it… that I feel nothing now?
Being trapped in a dark room with a man larger than me always used to choke the breath from my lungs.
Always reminded me of
him
.
He really is strange in all sorts of ways…
I pouted and said, “Once we get out of here, I’ll put some medicine on your lip. I know the perfect thing—it works like a charm.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“If you leave it untreated, it'll fester. And drinking soup’ll burn like hell.”
After teasing him for a while, I licked my lips and stepped back.
“Anyway… just let it go. Philip isn’t usually that hot-headed. He just panicked and overreacted today.”
“…There’s nothing to forgive.”
“Lie.”
Eric’s crimson eyes quietly fixed on me.
“It’s true. If someone tried to force a reckless marriage on someone I cared about, I’d be furious too—no matter what the reason was.”
I frowned. That was the kind of thing you’d hear from some enlightened cultivator who lived by a sacred scroll.
“Philip and I don’t even care about each other like that.”
“Lie,” Eric echoed, mimicking my tone.
It’s
not
a lie.
I mean, sure, I had thrown myself at Philip and hugged him during the ceremony—but that was instinct. A reflex.
Normally, I’d want to punch that smug face of his just for breathing in my direction.
“No matter what happens… I hope you don’t forget that I’m her older brother, Young Master Eric.”
But his last words… they left a strange echo in my mind.
I muttered under my breath, lips twitching in a pout.
“Why did he have to say something so ridiculous…”
Utter nonsense.
That’s all it was.
“Imeline Wedgewood… no, Imeline d’Orléans.”
Eric spoke, staring at my face.
D’Orléans
, huh. Another name I’ll have to get used to wearing like borrowed robes.
I turned my head away and answered flatly, “What?”
“Why are you crying?”
That made me flap my hands like a startled bird and shoot up from my seat.
Like I hadn’t just been crying, I rubbed at my eyes with the back of my hand—
Only to find some strange wetness smeared across it.
‘No. No way… That can’t be!’ “That’s impossible!”
Me, shedding tears over
Philip
? Absolutely not. That would be the most ridiculous thing in the world.
Grinding my teeth, I snapped at Eric.
“Wh-When did I ever cry?! You’re the strange one! Instead of trying to get us out of here, you’re just standing around saying weird things!”
“…And yet, you’re not even truly family.”
Eric muttered, his voice trailing with a strange weight.
I stared back at the icy gleam in his crimson eyes.
True family.
The fact that he knew the truth about my family’s past didn’t come as much of a surprise.
If anything, it would have been strange if he
didn’t
know.
After all, we never once hid the fact that we weren’t “real” in the first place.
I asked coolly, my voice like steel.
“What exactly are you trying to say?”
Eric looked at me directly, gaze unwavering.
“I’m asking why you trust your family so blindly.”
Trust?
What kind of question was that, out of nowhere?
Isn’t that what family is for? To trust, to protect each other—whether you’re bound by blood or not.
“Your mother went through four marriages, and all of them ended in widowhood…”
Eric leaned against the wall, looking down at me with a haughty expression.
That same oppressive aura I’d felt the first time I encountered him at Lady Margaret Beaufort’s gathering was beginning to return.
Somehow, I’d forgotten it. But now, it was back.
That overwhelming pressure that came from being locked in a room…
…with a man far bigger than me.
Damn it.
That creeping fear.
Eric’s blood-colored pupils glowed faintly in the dim light.
“And one of them… was your real father, wasn’t he?”
“Didn’t we already go over this two nights ago?”
I felt as if I were suffocating, every breath caught in the heaviness between us.
“That only settled the theory that
you
were the culprit. It doesn’t eliminate the possibility of another.”
“…And what makes you so sure it
wasn’t
me?”
My neck had stiffened without me realizing it.
I raised a hand and rubbed the back of it, trying to work out the knots forming at the base of my skull.
Then I forced myself to meet Eric’s gaze again.
His eyes had grown hazy, his voice quiet.
“Because back then… you…”
“Because I was just a child?”
Damn it.
Damn these cursed memories.
“Or because he was my father?”
I saw my own reflection in Eric’s red irises.
Eyes filled with fear.
And I knew—every time I made that expression, Eric would look at me with disdain.
So I spoke.
“You’re not trying to fight my father right now, are you?”
There’s no such thing as real or fake family—not for us.
To us, family had always been the ones
we chose
.
The ones who accepted us, stood by us, and believed in us without question.
So why… why keep digging into this?
‘…A pearl hairpin was found at the scene of Lord Violod’s death…’
Is
that
what’s bothering him?
It was a memory from long ago.
And yes, most of the memories I had from the trading guild were already a blur.
But even so, I was sure of one thing—
That hairpin…
—I gave it to my mother.
‘Here, you take it. It suits you more than it suits me.’
‘Is this a gift?’
‘Just take it.’
‘You call that a gift… it’s beautiful. Thank you, Imelin.’
I clenched my jaw tight. “You’re not seriously doubting Helena right now… are you?”
“……”
“I suggest you keep your hands off my family.”
I declared firmly and slammed my palm against the wall behind me with a sharp
bang
, as if sealing the vow to myself.
The impact echoed—and strangely, the wall… shifted slightly?
Wait.
Was that… hollow?
I turned toward it, frowning, and ran my hand over the surface. There—right there—I felt a subtle gap.
“Uh… I think there’s a door here.”
“A door? But the entrance is that way,” Eric replied, confused.
Ignoring him, I pulled out my hairpin and wedged it into the seam, poking around for a hidden mechanism.
“Hey. Can’t you open it like a normal person—”
Click.
A light, clean sound. The wall began to move.
Beaming, I turned back to Eric.
“See?! Look! It’s opening!”
A deep
grrrrk
came from behind us as the wall slid open—and bright light should have spilled in.
But…
“…?”
There was
no
light.
The chamber stayed dark. Eric’s face stiffened as he slowly turned his head, and dread twisted in my gut.
Still clinging to the hope it might be an exit, I turned around.
When I saw what lay behind that wall, I gave a hollow laugh and stepped back.
Eric pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered like he had a headache.
“Close it. Just… shut it again…”
My jaw clenched in fury.
Should I just kill the damned princess already?
What opened wasn’t a hidden passage or escape route—it was a storage chamber.
Inside, arranged with far too much care, were bizarre garments made of ropes and sheer silk, and tools whose purposes I
definitely
didn’t want to know.
“You depraved, perverted princess!!!”
I screamed in outrage.
Chapter 39