Chapter 41
“This is really awful.”
I shook my head without realizing it.
Of course, I hadn’t expected the Marquis to sit quietly—but I never thought he’d actually leak to the Red Book. Normally he looked down on such “vulgar” gossip rags.
No—that was just the mask he wore. The Marquis had always been like this. Outwardly, he acted like family honor and noble pride were everything, but behind the scenes, he was ruthless about gaining real advantages. That was why he married my mother, once a Princess, and why he tried to push either me or Leonie into the position of Empress.
But all of that wasn’t important right now.
The one most damaged by these rumors was Owen. He had helped me, and now he was caught up in slander because of it. I felt horribly guilty.
I glanced sideways at the man lying next to me.
“Owen…”
But to my surprise, he looked… pleased.
“This isn’t bad at all. It seems my efforts were worthwhile. Your father is moving exactly as I hoped he would.”
“What?”
What was he talking about?! We had read the gossip sheet together—he knew what was written in it!
I whipped my head around—only to find Owen’s face much closer than I expected. He was already looking straight at me. My heart skipped, but I refused to back down.
“Owen, do you realize this article is saying you’re a disgrace in society? That you kidnapped and imprisoned your brother’s fiancée because you were obsessed with her?”
“Of course I realize it.”
“Then how can you possibly say this is a good thing?!”
His long fingers reached toward me, brushing aside strands of my hair so he could see me more clearly. His expression was calm, his voice steady.
“What I want is for you to choose me without having to sacrifice anything. I want you to remain free of any dishonor.”
“…And so? You’re just going to let this rumor spread unchecked?”
“Yes. We have to announce our marriage eventually anyway. This story will make it easier for people to accept.”
I was speechless. Then it hit me—Owen had thought this through.
Because of this rumor, I was freed from the accusation that I had been having an affair with my fiancé’s older brother. And beyond that—remember our agreement? We were to spend one year as a married couple, after which I could choose whether to stay or leave.
If, at the end of that year, I decided to separate, the narrative would be simple: I had been forced into marriage by a “kidnapper,” so of course the contract wasn’t valid. No real wedding vows, no official record—it could all be declared null and void.
That would restore me to society as an unmarried noblewoman, with no permanent stain on my name. Sympathy for me would only strengthen my reputation.
Owen might not admit it, but this scheme would put all the disgrace on him alone. And that stain would follow the Duke of Glentino forever.
I pushed myself upright and said firmly,
“Owen, listen carefully. I don’t want this.”
He also sat up.
“I understand. It would mean you had lived with a kidnapper, but I can—”
“No! That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is…?”
Yes, of course I hated that he would carry the dishonor. But for me, the worst part was this:
“These rumors say I was the one kidnapped! That I was locked away helplessly! That’s the real problem!”
“…What?”
“If anything, I’d be the one doing the kidnapping—not the victim!”
After all, I was Sophia ta Bartoli—who in my previous life had even joined a rebellion. To be painted as someone who was captured and sat in captivity for a year without escaping? That was unbearable.
Yes, the Duke of Glentino’s household was formidable, but who would believe he truly locked me up so tightly? More likely, people would think I had simply been a weak girl dragged along by his whims.
Even after my little outburst, Owen said nothing.
“…Owen?”
No answer.
Uh oh. Maybe he was shocked that I wasn’t worried about him at all?
I scrambled to fix it.
“Of course, I am concerned about you being mistaken for a kidnapper, obviously.”
“Really?”
“Yes! Obviously! ‘A ferocious beast’? Who exactly were they looking at? If all the beasts in the world are dead, then maybe that fits, but otherwise—”
“That part doesn’t bother me. I like it.”
“Of course it was about you. Who else in this Empire is more terrifying?”
The words tumbled out before I realized how strange they sounded. I quickly tried to cover, hiding the Red Book behind my back and tossing it carelessly toward the vanity. It bounced, then landed open at Owen’s feet.
He bent down, picked it up… and suddenly burst into laughter.
“W-what?!”
At first he tried to hold it in, but soon he was laughing so hard tears ran down his cheeks.
“I understand now, Sophia. You’d rather be the kidnapper than the kidnapped.”
He had been holding back just to tease me!
“Don’t twist my words, Owen. I only meant—hypothetically!”
“Yes, hypothetically—you as the kidnapper.”
I pouted, but then found myself laughing along with him.
At last, Owen smoothed out the crumpled gossip sheet and said,
“Let’s just leave the rumor for now. It would be difficult to correct it anyway, and perhaps we can make use of it later.”
“…True.”
He was right—if we tried to explain now, the denial would be ignored while the rumor would remain. Besides, it was clearly false; in the right hands, it could even be used as leverage against my father.
“Alright then. If you don’t mind being known as a kidnapper.”
“The most ferocious man in the Empire should at least be capable of that much.”
“…Fair enough.”
I chuckled.
“It seems you’re not very worried about your reputation in high society, Owen.”
He only shrugged with an easy smile.
“I haven’t lived in the capital for years. But you, Sophia—you’re different, aren’t you?”
Well… yes. For noblewomen, reputation was crucial. Yet sympathy could also work to my advantage. People naturally felt protective of someone they believed weaker. And in truth, being kidnapped was a far better look than being the kidnapper.
Still, I had never been skilled at playing the game of reputation, pity, or popularity. Maybe that was the difference between me and Leonie. I had thought raw ability was enough. I hadn’t known how to be loved.
But now?
“It’s not like I’m going to be Empress anyway.”
Owen grinned broadly at that. He seemed to find my words amusing.
He handed the Red Book back to me. Thanks to his careful fingers, it looked almost as good as new.
On the corner of the cover, I noticed a tiny number. Owen pointed at it.
“What does this mean?”
“Oh—that marks the issue date.”
“It says today’s date.”
“…You’re right.”
Which meant this copy had been freshly printed—brand new.
Getting hold of an original Red Book was harder than finding a diamond hidden inside a cheap street-market trinket. Even Lady Enica, who reigned over gossip circles, shouldn’t have been able to get one so quickly.
But she had given me one issued that very day.
“…It seems Lady Enica likes you quite a bit, Sophia.”
“I think so too.”
And not just because she gave me something valuable. To hand me an original copy, hot off the presses, meant she had a direct connection to the Red Book. And she had revealed that secret to me willingly.
In other words, Lady Enica had entrusted me with one of her secrets.
Why?
I whispered to myself,
“…She really must like me.”
