Chapter 10
The sneer at the corners of his lips stung bitterly. Only then did the word “fake” truly settle deep in her chest.
Her very existence had been denied, and a small doubt had crept in through the cracks.
The doubt that maybe… she really was the fake one.
“…Lia? Bellia?”
“Ah.”
Snapped out of her daze, she blinked. The servants who were setting the table were also staring at her.
Not only her father and mother, but even Barun had paused and was looking at her.
“Just a moment…”
“Are you feeling unwell?”
The marquis, seated at the head of the table, finally spoke.
“Oh dear, really? Are you sick somewhere?”
“She definitely looks unwell.”
A voice came from behind.
Bedol, who had arrived after Bellia, entered the dining hall.
“She really looked sick earlier. You should have her checked.”
It was only after seeing the concern lingering in Bedol’s eyes—still shaken from their earlier embrace—that Bellia came to her senses.
Forcing a smile, she pulled out her chair and sat down.
“I guess I just didn’t sleep well last night.”
“If it’s too much, we can send your meal to your room. You should at least have the family doctor take a look.”
Bellia shook her head at the marquis’s words.
“I’m really fine. Just a bit tired. The banquet yesterday… took a toll, I guess.”
“I heard you were chosen as Lady of the Year. Congratulations.”
Barun responded before the marquis could. The metallic edge in his voice was unmistakable.
Bellia flinched and looked up.
Her eyes met his light blue ones—similar to Bedol’s but deeper and far colder.
Barun, with his neatly tied gray hair, was just as cold and sharp now as he had been in her memories.
“Congratulations? Yeah, right.”
“…Thank you.”
Ignoring Bedol’s teasing tone, Bellia answered calmly.
Her tongue felt stiff, but the words came out naturally.
A burning sensation rose in her throat. She drank some water to soothe the bitterness in her stomach.
“I’m fine, so please eat.”
“Is that so?”
Just by looking into her mother’s eyes, she could hold back this nausea.
Those warm orange eyes full of kindness calmed her nerves.
The meal resumed.
Bellia picked up the utensils laid on either side of her.
As she cut into the perfectly grilled steak, she struggled to stay composed.
The thought that she understood it all in her head had always been a lie.
At first, she tried to understand. Maybe Barun felt betrayed because the younger sister he had believed in all his life hadn’t awakened.
And then, this girl who fell from the sky, claiming to be the real one, had awakened without trouble. So maybe it was natural he didn’t believe in her.
Even through several regressions, she kept telling herself these things to try and understand Barun.
But it was only after countless tears and several decapitations that she realized—
She had never truly understood him.
From the very beginning, a deep sense of betrayal had rooted itself in her bones. She had always been furious.
And yet, she clung to the bond of family.
No—it wasn’t just clinging. She had yearned for it.
Even if the world called her a fake, she thought she could endure if her family believed in her.
It was only when her younger brother, unlike her older brother, showed faith in her that she gave up on Barun.
She let go of the affection she had desperately longed for.
She finally admitted to herself that she had rationalized Barun’s choices to keep holding onto him.
The sneer that had shimmered in his eyes in all her deaths had been real.
He had killed her without pain. To him, her death was nothing more than a necessary step.
It was clear that not even for a second had Barun believed she might truly be part of the Arphedi family.
—
“Congratulations on being chosen as Lady of the Year,”
The marquis’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.
Bellia looked up at the head of the table at the surprisingly warm tone.
Their eyes met for a moment, but he quickly looked away.
“It’s been a long time since someone from our family was chosen. It’s something to celebrate. So I was thinking of holding a banquet to commemorate it.”
“A banquet?”
Sof turned her head.
“Oh, that sounds lovely. You’re right—we can’t just let Bellia’s achievement pass without a celebration. We should hold a banquet.”
“A banquet?”
Bedol asked in a reluctant tone.
Barun’s utensils paused.
“Yes. It’s good news for your sister. Isn’t it something to be happy about for all of you? It’s a family honor.”
Sof beamed brightly.
“So, Bellia, what do you think?”
Everyone’s eyes turned to Bellia.
“A banquet…?”
She was silent for a moment.
Banquets were bothersome. But thinking of her goal this life—to live more glamorously than anyone—it didn’t seem like a bad idea.
“I’d like that.”
As Bellia accepted, the marquis nodded in satisfaction.
“Good. Let’s choose a good day soon and hold the banquet. Our family has had many reasons to celebrate lately.”
“Other than Lady of the Year, what else is there?”
Sof asked cheerfully, clearly trying to lift the tense atmosphere.
Suppressing her nausea, Bellia smiled brightly.
“Indeed. What else is there?”
At that moment, the three men at the table all turned their eyes to Bellia.
The brief silence caught her off guard.
“Is there something on my face?”
“…No. Let’s continue eating.”
The marquis began eating again.
Bellia tilted her head, confused.
Then she felt something odd brush her foot and turned her head.
“You really do seem sick.”
Bedol now wore an expression of genuine concern.
Bellia grinned weakly.
Feeling her complexion pale, she picked up her fork again.
Even if Barun was ruining her mood, it was a relief to have her mother and Bedol at this table.
“Brother, have some of this too.”
As she placed some salad on Bedol’s plate, he finally closed his mouth.
“Oh my, are you taking care of your brother?”
“He doesn’t seem to be eating well.”
At Bellia’s words, Bedol looked bewildered as he poked at the vegetables she gave him.
“Eat up, brother.”
“How lovely. Bedol, go on and eat.”
His expression, as if barely holding back nausea, was so cute.
It was strange how adorable Bedol seemed now—it made her feel a burst of affection.
Even if Barun pulled her down, Bedol helped lift her back up.
Bellia sliced the steak she had no intention of eating into neat pieces.
“So? What’s the other good news?”
Sof looked at the marquis as she asked.
“Our family’s trading company recently signed the Olro Agreement with the maritime kingdom of Kupa, and it’s already proving profitable.”
“The Olro Agreement?”
Bellia paused, trying to recall.
The Olro Agreement was a free trade agreement between the Empire and the Kingdom of Kupa.
Thanks to this deal, both nations gained significant trade benefits.
When she was 17, the Kingdom of Kupa sent their princess as an envoy.
The dress that princess wore then was the same design Bellia had used at the recent banquet.
“Yes. Under the Olro Agreement, a large shipment of Kupa’s textiles will be coming in. The selection process for the official distributor is today… and this morning, we got some very good news.”
The marquis beamed with pride.
“Bellia.”
“Yes?”
Still not meeting her eyes, the marquis continued.
“I’m so proud of you. Thanks to your presence at the banquet, everything went smoothly. I heard you came up with the dress design? They say the dresses worn by you and my wife earned high marks. According to our informants, that alone may sway today’s decision in favor of our trading company becoming the main distributor of the textiles.”
“Oh? Really?”
“Textiles?”
Bellia blinked in surprise at the unexpected news.
Originally, this deal hadn’t belonged to their family.
Along with her Lady of the Year title, the future had clearly changed.
“Yes. It’s a huge contract. We were expecting to be rejected… but it looks like we’ll win. All thanks to you.”
“It’s all thanks to your hard work, Father.”
Barun finally spoke up.
“No, no. It’s all because of Bellia.”
“That’s wonderful news!”
Sof clapped lightly.
“Thank you. If we can incorporate those textiles into imperial fashion, it could be extremely profitable. And it’ll strengthen ties with the maritime kingdom. That’ll also make it easier for us to export our main products—jewelry and ornaments. Truly, it’s an extraordinary opportunity for our family.”
Bellia nodded, still stunned.
She did remember the massive import of textiles happening around this time.
Even when she lived quietly before her regression, the rumors about this project had spread far and wide.
Her father wasn’t wrong—this was a chance to make a fortune.
After all, both nations were backing it.
But it wouldn’t be easy.
Kupa’s textiles were durable but often too dark in color to match the bright aesthetics preferred in imperial clothing.
