Chapter 11
“The Troublesome Grand Duchess”
Among the countless names on the list, one line immediately caught Vivian’s attention.
‘Lara Claudia.’
She was really here.
The name, clearly written on the wedding guest list, was indeed the heroine from <The Stories of Those Who Remain>.
The woman who had shared a passionate love with her husband, Leon.
In the novel, the author had described Lara as a perfect creation, blessed by God himself.
Golden hair that seemed ready to break, pale blue eyes—it was enough to leave an impression.
Vivian had even read the book partly to see Lara’s beauty, drawn on the cover.
She never imagined the protagonists would meet like this. This was very different from how Vivian remembered the story unfolding.
As far as she knew, Lara and Leon’s first meeting shouldn’t be here. According to the original plot, they should meet for the first time at a banquet in the Southern Kingdom after Vivian had died.
So why was it happening this way?
Vivian flopped back onto the bed, staring at the list in frustration, thinking, Who knows?
Then she picked the list up again and read slowly.
[Lara Claudia, Princess of the Southern Kingdom. Especially fond of seafood.]
Fond of seafood? That was a surprisingly faithful detail.
Vivian chuckled quietly.
The Southern Kingdom, where Lara lived, was a prosperous, coastal country. Warm sun, fresh air, calm seas—everything in perfect balance. There, Lara was revered as a goddess.
The woman who had won Leon’s heart was truly captivating.
In the novel, the king of the Southern Kingdom had been furious when his precious, spoiled daughter was taken from him.
To his eyes, Leon was just a widower with nothing but a stretch of barren land. Handing over his young daughter to such a man—no wonder he was angry.
Of course, his land prospered later, but that was much further down the story.
Knock, knock.
Lost in thought on the bed, Vivian sat up at the sound.
“Miss, may I come in for a moment?”
It was Mrs. Mayfield.
“Please do.”
The door opened, and a gaunt Mrs. Mayfield appeared.
“I need to take your measurements for the dress you’ll wear at the wedding.”
She held a tape measure.
“Please stand over here.”
Vivian rose and stood before the oval, full-length mirror, framed with gemstones.
She watched Mrs. Mayfield silently and let out a deep sigh.
“You look terrible. Are you about to collapse?”
“Thank you for your concern, Miss, but I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie. You’re the busiest person in the mansion and haven’t even eaten, yet you say you’re fine?”
Mrs. Mayfield forced a small smile, but exhaustion couldn’t be hidden.
“I told you to come to my room at night…”
“I appreciate it, but I can’t cause any more trouble.”
Vivian fell silent at her firm tone.
It was unfair that she had to suffer because of Vivian, but Mrs. Mayfield refused help so adamantly there was nothing she could do.
“Do you have a particular dress in mind, Miss?”
“No, nothing special. I just want something comfortable, I guess…”
“Comfortable dresses don’t exist in this world, Miss.”
“Well… as comfortable as possible…”
“I’ll tell the seamstress to do her best.”
“Um, Mrs. Mayfield?”
“Yes, Miss?”
Even if she was holding an axe, Vivian thought, you’d still have to swing it ten times. She couldn’t just let Mrs. Mayfield’s pale face go unnoticed.
“Would you come to my room tonight?”
Night came.
As usual, Vivian headed to the first floor.
This secret trip was entirely for Mrs. Mayfield.
She wanted to bring something to eat for the exhausted woman who was fasting because of her.
Of course, Mrs. Mayfield would protest loudly if she found out.
If she refused to come, there was nothing Vivian could do.
I have no choice but to go to her.
It was impossible to ignore her after seeing her face in the day. She needed to bring at least some food to put her mind at ease.
Moving lightly down the stairs in the deep darkness, Vivian crossed the first-floor hall and turned toward the kitchen.
A faint light spilled from the kitchen, which should have been dark.
Who could be here at this hour?
It was the first time she had encountered anyone in the kitchen since discovering the cold storage.
A dim orange light escaped from the doorway.
The light cast a giant shadow on the wall in front of her.
The shadow seemed to stand still, but on closer inspection, it was moving its hands busily.
Curious, Vivian peeked around the entrance.
“…Miss?”
She met the startled eyes of the head chef, Marian.
“Marian? What are you doing here?”
“And why are you in the kitchen at this hour…?”
Marian stood nervously in front of a counter lit by a small lamp.
Vivian’s gaze drifted to the counter bathed in orange light.
Ingredients were scattered across it in chaos.
“Are you hosting a banquet by yourself at night? What are all these ingredients…?”
“……”
Marian said nothing, just pressed her lips together. Nervously, she tried to hide the ingredients with her hands.
She was quite the glutton, preparing a feast at this hour.
Vivian turned her gaze away, pretending not to notice Marian’s discomfort.
“We’re in the same situation, so let’s look the other way.”
Marian replied in a trembling voice.
“I… I can’t do that. You must return to your room immediately.”
She couldn’t eat, but Marian could prepare such a lavish feast?
Vivian frowned at her. Something seemed off.
The kitchen was unusually warm. It should have been dry and cool at night…
A subtle aroma of vegetable broth lingered in the humid air. Vivian quickly looked at the stove.
Something was simmering on it.
“What are you cooking?”
“Well…”
“Wait, these ingredients… aren’t they for a stew?”
The counter was full of vegetables and meat, and the smell confirmed it.
Marian, usually strict, was trying to make the beef and mushroom stew.
And several pots at that.
Failed attempts of the stew were scattered everywhere, proving it.
“You’ve been trying to copy the dishes I made?”
Vivian smiled brightly at Marian.
Marian scrambled to make excuses.
“I—I thought it would be good to practice foreign dishes in case a guest comes…”
“You mean a guest from the Duchy of Kihis?”
Remember, the Duchy of Kihis was the enemy of the Empire. Yet she was practicing late at night for them? Strange.
“……”
“So you were practicing for the Duchy? At this hour?”
Marian’s jaw tightened in anger. She gritted her teeth, then forced her face into a neutral expression, shame still lingering.
Cornered, Marian quickly changed the subject.
“If you don’t return to your room, I’ll have to report this to Mr. Lindemann, Miss.”
How petty.
“Go ahead. Then I’ll tell him about someone wasting ingredients for personal reasons too.”
“It’s not waste. Mr. Lindemann instructed me to do this.”
“You mean Lindemann told Marian to make the stew? Why?”
“Well…”
Vivian narrowed her eyes.
“…He ate my dish, didn’t he? And liked it?”
“……”
“That’s right. But why didn’t anyone tell me? Strange.”
Looking closer, the vegetables in the pots were arranged exactly like hers. Mushrooms, cuts—everything matched.
It looked fine, but probably lacked the secret sauce.
A triumphant smile appeared on Vivian’s face.
“You seem to be in quite a predicament. Want me to help?”
Marian’s wrinkled face brightened slightly but she turned away.
“No, thank you. I can handle it myself.”
Then she suddenly began pulling ingredients together and tidying the area frantically.
Her hands shook as she picked up vegetables, acting overly sensitive, like someone hiding guilt.
Late at night, Marian was mimicking Vivian’s dishes. Zygmunt had enjoyed the stew.
Marian’s secret, practicing alone without asking Vivian—what could it be?
Ah… no way.
Suddenly, an idea struck Vivian.
“Did you tell Mr. Lindemann that you made it yourself?”
Marian’s face turned bright red.
“I… I had no choice. If he knew you cooked it, he would have made me pay the price too.”
“I see… so that’s why you lied.”
“No… it’s not that…!”
“If I tell everything honestly, it would put you in a difficult position?”
Marian squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lips hard.
Standing there, face red, she whispered shakily:
“It’s not good for you either. If the Grand Duke knew you cooked it… have you thought about what might happen?”
That blasted Grand Duke… Vivian, annoyed by Leon, waved her hand and turned away.
“Enough. I really wanted to help, but since you refused so strongly… good luck.”
Vivian was about to leave the warm, humid kitchen when Marian called out urgently.
“Wait! Please, Miss!”
Vivian turned slowly. Marian’s voice was small, pleading.
“Please… help me, Miss.”
