Chapter 55
The Countess Cline was very kind to me, but the Count was not. He was always polite, as if there were an invisible line I couldn’t cross. Because of that, I had rarely entered his office.
“It feels like it’s been since I was a child.”
I trudged into the office. In the very center, on the sofa and at the table, two men were seated.
I could immediately recognize one of them. Golden hair that sparkled like sunlight, fox-like narrow eyes.
“Isn’t that… the man I met earlier?”
It was Bentley.
“He looks older than before, but it’s definitely Mr. Bentley.”
His face, now showing the first signs of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, seemed several years older. And the person Bentley was facing was…
“Emil!”
Emil was staring at Bentley in front of him with cold eyes. Not the warm gaze I knew, but the same look he had that other day when he seemed mad.
“So that’s Emil’s true self.”
He had been pretending to be kind all this time.
Realizing this again made my heart turn as cold as ice. I bit my lip and glared at Emil. Of course, the Emil in this vision wouldn’t feel my gaze.
Bentley spoke in a calm, deliberate voice. Even facing the cold Emil, he smiled gently, reminiscent of how he had been with Dante earlier.
“…Given the circumstances, I believe we must proceed to annul your marriage or file for a divorce.”
“Annul the marriage? Divorce?”
Unexpected words flowed from his lips one after another. I blinked.
“If Emil’s spouse is me… are they saying they’ll divorce us?”
But in the future I had seen, I had indeed held a funeral as Emil’s wife.
“….”
Emil didn’t respond to Bentley. Unfazed, Bentley continued.
“It’s for the sake of the country. I trust you will comply. There are no children between you anyway, correct?”
A young couple without children. It was clearly about Emil and me. I wanted more clues about the future, but Bentley simply stated what he had to say and stood up.
“That will be all.”
Ah.
With a sigh of regret, I watched Bentley’s footsteps echo across the floor until the door slammed shut. Emil wiped his face with his hand, his expression filled with intense emotion.
Anger.
“…The lack of children was because I didn’t want Yvonne to be ruined by meaningless childbirth. Yvonne must remain an eternal girl. People who don’t even understand…”
“What is he saying?”
The moment I heard Emil muttering this through gritted teeth, chills ran down my spine.
An eternal girl? Was that even possible? Moreover, it sounded like…
“It’s not that he couldn’t have a child, but that he deliberately chose not to?”
At the funeral, Rozian had mocked me mercilessly—calling me useless, unable to bear a child or earn Emil’s love.
“What is all this now?”
Emil, who had laughed at me with Rozian, and Emil, who now showed abnormal obsession—
“This version actually resembles the Emil I met recently more closely.”
The Emil Dante had stopped that day was like this too, projecting strange images onto me, saying I needed correcting, claiming I had been corrupted.
I didn’t even want to know what he thought of me. If I did, I felt I might come to loathe Emil as a person.
A shiver ran down my shoulders as Emil’s final words echoed in my ears.
“If you cannot be mine… then I’ll kill you and keep you by my side. Forever.”
I widened my eyes and looked at him.
“Could it really be Emil who tried to kill me?”
Why… why?
Bentley slouched on the sofa, pointing his finger like a gun at Dante.
“I can see why you were completely taken with her at first sight. She’s a rare beauty.”
Dante glared at Bentley with murderous eyes, as if to say shut up, and opened the bottle of liquor on the table. He couldn’t let Bentley sit there while sober.
He didn’t pour into a glass, but drank directly from the bottle. Having endured the battlefield and its hardships with constant drinking, Dante had a strong tolerance.
Bentley, seemingly unfazed, tapped his toes and mocked him.
“I respect your taste, but isn’t she too young? She seems like a girl.”
“She’s a proper adult.”
“Then I guess you’re just old.”
“….”
Seriously. They were the same age, yet teasing each other like this? Where’s your conscience?
Dante slammed the bottle on the table with a thunk, then plopped down opposite Bentley and asked:
“What exactly are you here for? To gawk at her?”
Bentley clicked his tongue, shaking his head.
“Gawk? No, I sincerely respect my friend, yet it seems my friend trusts me too little.”
“Trusting you would be foolish. Why are you even here? To prepare for the lost princess’ arrival at the palace?”
“That’s Vivian and Her Majesty’s doing.”
The fake princess was arriving in the capital tomorrow. She had already reached a nearby village to check her clothes and jewelry, so she would appear in public looking as magnificent as possible.
Vivian, who had been enjoying time with Yvonne, hurried back to the palace because of the fake princess’ return.
It was obvious how chaotic the palace would be. Dante clicked his tongue and glared at Bentley lounging there.
“You’re bold.”
Bentley frowned but smiled.
“I say, harsh words. I have been entrusted with the most important mission.”
“What mission?”
“To bring you back to the palace.”
“…Go away.”
Dante hated crowded places and had no interest in the fake princess’ return, especially knowing she wasn’t the real princess.
Seeing Dante’s annoyed expression, Bentley suddenly scolded him with exaggerated dignity.
“Duke Christopher! Will a duke not show his face at such a crucial state event?”
Dante shrugged—though his large frame made it look like mockery—and replied:
“Yes, after visiting the prison I caught pneumonia, so I cannot attend official events. Please understand.”
“A lie! You’ve never even had a cold in your life, and now you catch pneumonia?”
“Believe it or not. Either way, I’m not going.”
“You’re the only one here who could endure that boring event with me.”
“….”
Dante grabbed the bottle again and chugged. Bentley, fidgeting with his fingers, kept trying to persuade him.
“Why are you so attached to a place you didn’t even like? Aren’t you curious about the new princess?”
“Not at all.”
“You said you’d reveal the fake! You promised to give the beautiful fairy her proper status! And yet you treat it so coldly?”
Bentley clung desperately to Dante. The event was boring, indeed. But more accurately:
“Tomorrow, the moment the fake princess arrives, everyone will push me to propose.”
Bentley, the crown prince, had long delayed marriage and even lacked a fiancée. Leaving that position vacant was a political calculation. The return of the lost princess, being fake, didn’t change that.
“If she were real, maybe I’d care, but knowing she’s fake, I don’t want to be entangled with engagement nonsense.”
Bentley recalled Yvonne from earlier—her round eyes full of emotion, a rare innocent type nearby.
“She looked beautiful and kind.”
Since Vivian approved, her character could be trusted.
Remembering all the good points, Bentley shook his head hastily, aware that Dante’s sharp eyes seemed to see right through him.
“Ugh, she really means it.”
Just like the old saying: those who learn thievery late don’t notice time passing. Wise words.
“No pointless feelings. If I mess with Dante, it’ll be troublesome.”
