Chapter 46
Judgment
“Damion was a very clever and smart child. He always knew himself well.”
Marianne smiled with her eyes, a noble smile lingering at the corners of her lips.
One of Damion’s eyebrows arched.
Knows himself well, huh? Depending on the context, that could be either praise or criticism. It was clear she didn’t want to fully cooperate—at least not beyond the boundaries of her promises to him.
“Don’t flatter me too much, Mother.”
Damion responded lightly on purpose. He wanted Ansi to take that remark as nothing more than a compliment.
“Yes, back when he was young, that is.”
The duke, who had been repeatedly sipping his whiskey, chuckled heartily.
“He was the spitting image of me when he was a boy. People used to envy our family, saying how Cardian and Damion perfectly resembled the two of us.”
“Oh yes, I remember.”
A nostalgic voice, slightly tinged with intoxication.
It didn’t seem like they were good at spinning lies, but rather that they truly believed such memories. Given how often they mentioned how well they had raised Damion, it wouldn’t be surprising if they were indulging in such delusions.
In any case, the conversation seemed to be wrapping up.
But then, Cardian casually dropped a remark with a trace of laughter.
“Anyone could say that just by looking at Damion now, Mother, Father. What Ansi’s curious about is what he was like back then.”
Everyone turned their eyes to Cardian.
There was an edge to his words. He clearly didn’t appreciate this superficial conversation.
Marianne, who had just picked up her wine glass after completing her own part in the charade, awkwardly set it back down.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Hmm… Damion was… well, he was quite small as a child. Hard to imagine now, isn’t it?”
Ansi nodded. He was now tall enough to stand out even in a crowd. She tried picturing a small boy with platinum-blond hair and violet eyes in her mind.
Suddenly, a memory surfaced—of a boy she had met long ago.
But Ansi shook her head inwardly. This wasn’t the time to drift into other thoughts. She brought her focus back to the dinner table.
“I remember we went swimming once, and he refused to get in the water because he didn’t know how to swim.”
But with Vashiroff’s words, that same boy came to her mind again—struggling and flailing in the water.
“Soldiers are supposed to know how to swim, right? When did you learn?”
Ansi turned to Damion with a question.
“…I think I was around nine. I just thought it would be good to learn.”
“Right, was it Cardian who taught you?”
Vashiroff, feeling pleased at uncovering at least one unknown detail about his son, added the question. Marianne poked him in the ribs for the unnecessary comment.
“No, Damion learned it on his own. Admirably so,”
Cardian answered with a gentle smile, as if praising a good child. Then he added,
“Since Damion came from the south, he probably learned quickly. People say southern folks are all good swimmers, after all.”
The duke cleared his throat. Marianne brought her wine glass to her lips with a quiet breath. A moment of silence followed.
Suspicion flickered in Ansi’s eyes.
The south? Not the capital, nor the northern Sobelvio? Then why hadn’t he mentioned anything about it when they met at the house in Ziden, in the south?
She couldn’t shake the feeling that the odd tension in the dining room was somehow related to that. But since it involved her husband, pretending not to know anything felt unnatural.
“So you lived in the south for a while, then.”
Ansi looked up at Damion beside her, speaking casually. Damion, noticing her gaze, forced a smile.
“Yes, a long time ago, briefly. I don’t remember much—was very young.”
“Eight years isn’t exactly brief, is it?”
A crack appeared in Damion’s forced smile. He turned his now-cold eyes toward Cardian. Cardian tilted his head innocently.
“Oh, so you hadn’t told Ansi.”
Cardian was merely confirming what he already knew. The satisfaction of discovering a weakness curled faintly at his lips.
“Then I’ll keep quiet. Right, Damion?”
Ansi tried to make sense of it all.
Based on context… it seemed Damion had lived in the south for eight years. But what did he mean by keeping quiet? Clearly, there was more to the story—something she didn’t know.
She was curious.
The always-composed Damion d’Orphe, who should’ve grown up as the beloved second son of the Orphe ducal house—what was he hiding?
But now wasn’t the time.
Damion looked unusually troubled, and this wasn’t something to bring up in front of others. Especially not in front of that bastard Cardian.
“If it’s something I need to know, Damion would have already told me. And if there’s something he hasn’t said yet… then I want to hear it from you, Damion.”
Ansi placed her hand gently over his.
“…Of course.”
Damion nodded.
One of Cardian’s eyebrows twitched ever so slightly. But he quickly concealed his expression, leaning back into his chair.
“As you wish.”
He smiled, as if granting permission, and turned to Bekishi beside him.
“Beki, how about showing Ansi around Sobelvio tomorrow? Since she arrived yesterday, I doubt she’s had the chance to look around properly.”
“That should be something Lord Damion does… never mind. Ansi, would tomorrow work for you?”
“Yes.”
“Then come with me tomorrow.”
Bekishi smiled warmly.
Cardian’s gaze darkened as he looked at her.
Click. The sound of the door opening made Bekishi flinch as she sat brushing her hair at the vanity. The mirror reflected Cardian entering the room.
“Stay seated.”
As Bekishi started to rise from the couch at the vanity, Cardian stopped her. No—he commanded her.
“Did you speak to Her Majesty about allocating the Tibo region’s river for industrial use?”
Cardian approached and began brushing her soft brown hair himself. Her hair rippled gently under his hand.
“Not yet…”
“Why not?”
“There wasn’t a chance to bring it up. And in any case, if you mention it to His Majesty—”
“Beki.”
A sharp tug made Bekishi wince and shut her eyes tightly. Cardian had yanked her hair.
“I told you. People need to feel like they made the decision—not that someone else swayed them. Her Majesty needs to be the one to tell the Emperor.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll speak to Her Majesty once we return to the capital.”
“Good. Thank you.”
His hand grew gentle again. He moved her hair to one side and kissed her exposed neck.
“But Beki, why did you try to argue earlier?”
“I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”
Her eyelids fluttered slightly, trembling as she kept them closed.
Cardian watched her through the mirror, then straightened up, bored.
“Sleep well, Beki.”
“…You too, Kal.”
Cardian gave her cheek a soft kiss and left the room without hesitation.
His eyes, as he walked down the hall, were cold.
Bekishi had become boring. If she was going to obey, she should obey completely. If she was going to resist, she should fight back to the end. This half-hearted resistance followed by quick submission made her a poor toy.
Yes, it had to be fun.
Like his younger brother’s wife, with those sharp, bright eyes.
“Ansi, I have something to tell you.”
Even when they returned to the room for a short rest, even after she finished washing up, even as she got ready for bed—Damion remained silent. Only when it was time to get into bed did he finally speak.
Ansi, who had lifted the blanket and kneeled on the bed, sat back down. Damion stood a step away from the bed, eyes cast downward.
He didn’t look at her.
He was afraid that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to speak.
Saying that he couldn’t remember his time in the south was a lie.
He remembered everything clearly, despite how young he had been.
He remembered what expression the Duke wore the first time he saw a boy who looked just like him. He remembered the conversations with his mother.
And… how his mother died.
He couldn’t tell Ansi everything. But now that a certain keyword had been spoken, he at least had to explain that.
He’d spent the entire evening—from dinner until now—deciding which truths might come to light and which wouldn’t.
In conclusion, he knew he had to tell her that he was the Duke’s illegitimate child and that he had lived as a commoner in the south for eight years.
Still, despite having made that decision, it was difficult to speak.
He knew there was no point in hesitating. It was a fact he couldn’t change with effort. It was better to get it out and focus on what came next.
“I…”
Damion opened his mouth with difficulty. Just then, Ansi interrupted him.
“Damion.”
He looked up.
Ansi was staring at him with her large eyes, blinking. Her lips, beneath her defined nose, were set in that typically stoic expression.
He swallowed dryly.
It felt like standing before a judge who could see through all his sins.
