Chapter 46………
“So you’re saying that chaos is breaking out in the castle right now?”
Yuri Gracia didn’t bother holding back his laughter. Wahahaha! He laughed so loudly that his uvula was visible. To this rowdy old friend, Isaac replied in a very calm tone.
“Haha, my youngest wishes it, so of course I must indulge her. No unworthy man should ever become her husband.”
When Yuri visited after a long absence and asked what was going on in the castle, Isaac—pretending to be composed—happily recounted the events.
From the look of it, Yuri concluded that Isaac had been rather bored since his retirement.
And he was absolutely right.
“I hear it’s already the third day. How’s it going?”
“No one has guessed correctly so far. Which is only natural.”
“Well, the conditions are rather harsh.”
At the detail that all the women even wore the same perfume, Yuri couldn’t help but click his tongue in astonishment. He heard that some of them even wore wigs to disguise their hair color.
Isaac snorted.
“If they can’t handle even that, how dare they think of marrying my daughter.”
“Well, you’d probably recognize Tiela at once though.”
Seeing Yuri’s weary gaze, Isaac bristled.
“If there is love, it should be obvious!”
“That instinct of yours is closer to witchcraft.”
“Call it keen observation.”
“You sly old raccoon.”
“You lumbering bear.”
The two old men muttered insults at each other, then burst into laughter when their eyes met. One was called the knight of knights, the other the scholar of scholars—men of extremes, yet their friendship was an uncanny match.
Isaac smoothly changed the subject.
“Let’s not talk only about my children. How is Liam doing?”
When he asked about Yuri’s only son, who had inherited his title a few years earlier, Yuri heaved a long sigh.
“Don’t even get me started. Raising children is useless. The way he fawns over his wife makes me sick to my stomach. If he had given me even half that devotion, I’d have clung to him all my life.”
“Well, you reaped what you sowed. Who told you to be so harsh with your son’s upbringing? Rebellion is only natural.”
“Maybe so. But not every parenting method works out as well as yours, old friend.”
At that jab—clearly directed at his own son Frederick—Isaac’s temple twitched with veins. He had poured everything into raising him, yet the result had been disastrous.
Even a man versed in every field of study had found himself helpless in one area: child-rearing. That was the truth he had learned from raising his wildly individualistic children.
How could a man with only one son possibly understand this pain? Isaac swallowed the urge to shout.
“There are limits to what we can do. Still, I think the others turned out fairly well.”
“Indeed. Your daughters get more interesting as time goes on. It wouldn’t have been bad to become in-laws.”
“Not meant to be. Besides, the thought of becoming in-laws with you is horrifying.”
“I shuddered the moment I said it. My apologies.”
“Think nothing of it.”
“I truly like your daughters though.”
Yuri smacked his lips as if genuinely regretful. Knowing how fond Yuri was of his second daughter, Isaac gently shifted the topic.
“Who can bend a child’s will? I couldn’t even bend mine, which is why I ended up with in-laws I never planned on.”
“True enough. Didn’t you even refuse when the late king himself proposed a marriage alliance?”
“I thought it would be too great an honor.”
Isaac laughed, hiding his real thoughts. Who in their right mind would tie themselves to that cesspit of a royal palace? With succession battles looming, bloodshed was inevitable.
Thanks to the late king’s debauched appetites, he had nearly thirty children. The palace back then had been a battlefield every day.
The crown prince might have been a reliable ally, but he was impossible to read. Isaac had no intention of shoving his daughters into that viper’s nest just to gain more power—until one of them betrayed his trust.
“Still, Cordelia certainly is bold. To think she’d use such a method to drive suitors away.”
Yuri chuckled again, shaking his head.
“Seems she still doesn’t get along with her elder sister.”
“She’s determined to give her a proper humiliation this time.”
Isaac remembered the smug face of his youngest, who had promised that after this grand spectacle, no suitor would dare approach her again. That thought was quickly followed by another face—unsettling and heavy on his mind.
“I wonder who will win the heart of that charming girl. I look forward to it.”
“Haha, as do I.”
But in truth, a far graver problem had arisen—one Isaac could not bring himself to confess even to Yuri. He sighed. Perhaps this was divine punishment for thinking he had grown too idle.
“Well then, perhaps I’ll take a walk—”
“Are you not hungry? Let’s go eat.”
Isaac brushed the thought aside and stood. The most important thing now was to prevent Prince Ian from running into Yuri.
Yuri rarely came to the capital, but one never knew.
“Now that you mention it, I am a bit peckish.”
For once, Isaac felt grateful for his friend’s dullness in such matters. Knights, after all, were not known for their subtlety.
He masked his expression as Yuri glanced at him, even as he cursed inwardly. Yuri, with all the affection of a lifelong comrade, clapped him hard on the shoulder with his broad, pot-lid-like hand.
“So, Cordelia is still in the hall, then?”
“Well…”
“Please write down your family crest and name.”
Men signed their names on the papers the maids handed them, then were led once more into the grand hall. Their mix of confidence and bewilderment instantly turned to shock the moment they entered.
They were given half a day. Food and drink were plentiful. Some used this to offer refreshments to the masked women, watching their manners for clues to separate the fakes.
Of course, to counter this, real noblewomen had been mixed in as decoys. Whenever multiple suitors chose the same woman, fights sometimes broke out—quickly subdued by the waiting footmen.
Had the suitors shared information, things might have gone differently. But jealousy is human nature—why help another succeed where one has failed? Thanks to strict secrecy, it took great effort even to learn the rules of the trial.
Some tried bribing the servants, but at most they only learned the story of how the masquerade was arranged. None knew which one was Cordelia.
And so, after a full week, no one had found her.
“Isn’t this one?”
From a small adjoining room, Kallia sipped tea and received each suitor as they brought forth their chosen woman.
The chosen woman removed her mask before the man. His face, once bright with hope, would instantly crumple with disappointment when it wasn’t Cordelia. Kallia watched the cycle with boredom.
“Regrettable.”
The rejected suitor trudged out, his stride puffing up with feigned confidence as soon as he was in public view—determined not to give the others any advantage. Kallia found their pettiness amusing.
Even Cordelia’s former lovers, whose names occasionally appeared in the registry, failed one after another.
“Is Lady Cordelia truly in there?” one man had demanded angrily.
“On the honor of House Weitsen, of course,” Kallia had replied firmly.
They could not argue further against the name of the Dukedom itself. With sour faces, they had no choice but to leave.
It was true—Cordelia was inside. Only Kallia knew which one she was.
Even the women themselves had no idea who among them was Cordelia. They had all been masked, trained, and strictly forbidden from speaking to one another. Voices could betray not only identity but class and origin.
Gestures could be imitated, but once someone spoke, mistakes became inevitable. To avoid even the possibility of collusion, the women switched outfits daily. The maids were kept very busy—but were compensated with extra pay.
It had taken quite some time to gather the thirty women. Blue eyes were non-negotiable, and Cordelia was tall, so their height had to be supplemented with shoes where possible. Not just anyone could be used.
Still, after ten days of training, their performances were convincing enough.
When Kallia had first heard of the plan, she had been worried.
‘What if someone actually finds you?’ she had asked.
‘Impossible. You know my story. No man alive could guess correctly,’ Cordelia had answered with confidence.
Kallia had sighed. ‘It would take someone with no prejudice at all. But if that’s your wish, I won’t stop you. Still… what about the man you liked? Is it right to do this while he’s out there?’
‘Hmph. Who cares about him!’
She had turned her head sharply, still clearly angry. Kallia understood why the man had withdrawn from her—but held her tongue.
‘And if someone can find me despite all this? Then that must be fate.’
‘…You’re not wrong.’
“Truly, that’s just like you,” Kallia had muttered. Perhaps hardship was essential to romantic love.
She stretched and waited patiently for the next knock at the door.
Meanwhile, Cordelia gazed absently around the hall.
The refined melodies of the orchestra, the sight of finely dressed people dancing elegantly—she took it all in with detached eyes.
The atmosphere seemed warm and festive, yet beneath it ran sharp, desperate currents of competition. Like swans gliding serenely across the water, frantic paddling hidden below.
Search all you want—you’ll never find me.
Her blue eyes blinked lazily behind the mask.
In ten days, everyone who might come would have come. Not that anyone could ever identify her. By now, Rick must have gotten the message loud and clear—that she had no intention of marrying him.
She felt a little guilty toward the suitors, but most of them were after her wealth and title anyway.
After more than a week, she was getting restless. Still, three hours a day wasn’t so bad. She could endure a little longer.
She was staring absently at the clock on the wall when—
“Kyaaaah!”
A scream split through the music. Cordelia’s head whipped toward the sound.
