Chapter 12
He parted his lips and pronounced it like that. Lifting his sun-tanned face, he smiled at her. They met in the countryside where her ailing mother stayed. Though she was blunt and not the least bit charming, he kept approaching her—what did he even like about her so much? Whenever she called his name, his cheeks flushed so deeply that it made one wonder which of them was the woman.
He was the one who pulled her out of her shell. Because of him, her stiff lips learned to smile, and her eyes learned how to soften and curve—she learned all of it from him.
[Asahi di Safon.]
She still remembered how he burst into loud laughter when she, awkwardly smiling, tried to pronounce his name. She wasn’t good at judging appearances, but even she could see he was quite handsome. Yet his actions were unbearably crude. She couldn’t look away. No one treated him like the young master of a viscount family. Everyone respected him as one of their own. She often found herself staring blankly as he blended in with the villagers, laughing among them.
[That’s my name.]
Her father disapproved, but eventually gave permission. News of an engagement between a duke’s daughter and a low-ranking provincial noble spread quickly. But as long as they stayed away from the capital, no one would come this far into the quiet countryside to cause trouble.
She remembered how embarrassed she was when they first kissed, how he had laughed. He too had blushed, yet pretended to be calm—it was ridiculous. She had loved him with the pure heart of a naive country girl.
[And you?]
He was ecstatic when he learned he would become the Crown Prince’s aide. Actually ecstatic—he literally jumped up and down. When she told him to stop, he only shook his head and laughed. I’ll come see you, he said. She nodded, despite knowing that once he reached the capital, vain aristocrats would tear into him. She couldn’t stop him. She didn’t. She believed—arrogantly—that no one would dare touch the daughter of one of the empire’s three ducal houses.
It didn’t take long to realize how foolish that belief was.
[Hmm. That’s a ladylike name.]
She heard the news on her way to the capital: he had been attacked by assailants. A poor viscount family had no money to hire decent guards. Even someone skilled with a sword was helpless against trained men.
He died there.
[By the way, miss—do you have a boyfriend?]
She remembered him—pretending to be calm even with reddened cheeks. She remembered how he pouted, calling her cold-blooded. Her fiancé—with wheat-colored hair, smiling at her with the same eyes—lay at her feet. She sobbed. Tears ruined her makeup as they streamed down her cheeks. People whispered when she appeared at the inauguration ceremony in all black—some showed pity, others mocked her.
She wanted to kill them all.
One of them killed him.
Her body trembled uncontrollably at the thought. She avoided the Crown Prince, and as soon as the ceremony ended, she fled. She didn’t care if her uniform got stained while trying to hide somewhere deserted.
Her father—the Emperor’s left hand—was responsible for punishing corrupt nobles. Many held grudges. Unable to touch her, they killed him instead. She fell in love too deeply to think clearly. She had foolishly believed no one would dare touch a duke’s daughter, and so they killed a worthless viscount’s son in her place.
They killed her heart.
“…My lady?”
Someone emerged from the forest, rustling leaves. She couldn’t stop the tears and lowered her head as footsteps approached.
“That hair color… the House of Inderik…?”
He sounded startled. When she didn’t reply, he hesitated, then offered something. It was a neatly folded handkerchief. The cloth felt rough—when she looked closely, she noticed a name embroidered into it. The stitching was uneven and crooked, making her laugh.
“I am Louisian van Endrianz. His Highness is looking for you. Would you care to come with me?”
She had heard of him. A member of another ducal house—protagonist of a romance that once shook the empire. Then this clumsy embroidery must be hers. She laughed again. The rumors about the Duke of Endrianz were familiar. But this man, flustered at the sight of a crying woman, was nothing like the rumors.
When he said someone was looking for her, she finally lifted her head.
“I followed your trail all the way here, but… shall we go, my l— My lady?”
[Asahi]
She swallowed hard. His cold blue eyes… overlapped with those warm brown eyes that once looked at her so gently. Hair color, eye color, expression—nothing was the same, yet her heart pounded uncontrollably.
How could this be? This man…
“Is this God’s mockery?”
“…Excuse me?”
Was God punishing her? Louisian looked exactly like Asahi. Marillian had never met him before. She rarely attended social events, and unless someone had ties with her father, she knew no faces. She swallowed.
Louisian, who had been looking down at her with a blank expression, spoke.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not God’s mockery. It’s His Highness’s.”
If we’re late, we die.
His voice was flat. Marillian flinched at the sincerity in his tone. He turned to leave, then stopped. When she stopped as well, he looked back. His expression was tired—or irritated.
“That… when you’re done, could you return it quickly?”
Return what?
She looked down—realizing he meant the tear-soaked handkerchief. When he saw she understood, Louisian nodded once. As he walked away, the tips of his ears turned red.
Marillian smiled.
Now—present day.
Marillian expressionlessly trimmed the thorns off a rose in her hand.
“Hey, you know that can’t get damaged, right?”
The one giving orders smiled. Marillian nodded without expression. It had already been a year of performing confusing errands—unsure whether she was a secretary or a maid.
“The vase is sturdy. It’ll be fine.”
“That’s because it’s a tribute. The flowers are tributes too, so don’t damage them.”
“Yes.”
Her curt response made the Crown Prince laugh. When she finished her task, she turned and handed him a stack of documents. He scowled, flipping through them carelessly. Despite his blank face, his movements screamed bothered.
“That guy—his assignment ends today, right?”
“……”
She had once visited the Foreign Affairs office on the Prince’s errand. She saw people gaping at Louisian’s terrifying efficiency. A task they believed would take a week—he finished in four days.
This is why competent people are exhausting, the Crown Prince grumbled.
“You should stop before you get hurt.”
Who does he mean?
Her? Me?
She knew he was close with her. She had seen him summon her from time to time. And she—Marillian—harbored real feelings for Louisian. No lies.
The Crown Prince’s deep blue eyes—darker than Louisian’s—reflected her face. When she didn’t react, he lost interest and closed his eyes.
“……”
How much does he know? How far?
She stayed silent.
Then, with a mischievous smile:
“Everything.”
“…What?”
“I tried to keep Louisian for myself, but I failed.”
He tossed the papers in the air. Marillian barely managed to catch them.
“It can’t be helped.”
“……”
“Let’s do our best for the next month.”
She said nothing. Documents piled high overflowed onto the floor. When she silently looked from the papers to the prince, he laughed.
‘Not God’s mockery—His Highness’s.’
She remembered those words from a year ago—because of the man in front of her.
Marillian sighed. She remembered the smile of Isilia.
[You asked me to call your name, but you are not yet a member of House Endrianz. I trust you understand.]
Calm words, sharp thorns.
Marillian had taken someone precious. There was no reason for Isilia to welcome her. The golden-haired, golden-eyed woman’s every movement was elegant. Marillian could only watch in awe.
When Isilia left, a child came into view—small, fragile. Marillian froze.
She hadn’t expected Isilia to bring a child.
[Yohan is still asleep, so he can’t join us. But El was curious about you.]
Isilia was difficult to face—Marillian was unfamiliar with social niceties and indirect speech. Isilia was the opposite: polished, fluent, intimidating. Every question she asked was sharp.
As Marillian answered, she watched Isilia’s expression—cold, composed.
[I heard you once had a fiancé.]
