Chapter 9: Yvonne’s reputation in the capital was worse than she ever imagined.
People in the capital avoided the young lady they had never even seen, claiming she brought misfortune since she had lost her parents and siblings one after another.
In truth, many children became orphans at a young age. Yvonne’s story was hardly unusual.
But the fact that she was the sole heiress of an old, prestigious count’s family… that her mother was once famed as a great beauty… and that the lawsuit which had rattled the capital involved her—those were what made her stand out.
“Paradi? A proposal…? What are you talking about?”
Yvonne received several marriage proposals every month. They were all after her wealth; none cared about who she truly was.
Paradi had no use for Yvonne’s fortune. His family was already wealthy enough.
Power? He was the heir who would soon inherit all the Laurent titles. There was only one reason he would propose to Yvonne.
*Kirian Hischelger… that damned bastard.*
The people who attacked Yvonne last time had been sent by Kirian Hischelger.
Whatever his reason for wanting her dead, if she became the fiancée of the Laurent heir, he wouldn’t be able to touch her so easily.
*Warning him directly would be best, but…*
If he did that, his grandfather—the current Marquis Laurent—would learn that Yvonne had been attacked. He adored Yvonne, and if he found out, the balance of power with the royal family could tilt dangerously.
“It’s a strategic engagement. Not marriage—engagement.”
“You said proposal.”
“Engagements are for marriage. Of course, we’re not going that far.”
“Why all of a sudden? Is the marquis pushing you to marry again?”
“The old man’s always the same.”
Paradi gently pulled Yvonne’s hand and slipped a ring onto her finger. She didn’t even notice the huge diamond now on her hand as she asked worriedly:
“Nothing’s wrong… right?”
“Of course not. Look, I thought about it carefully—an engagement will make us freer. I get to escape the marriage pressure, and you don’t have to worry about strange rumors every time I or someone else walks in and out of your house.”
“You can’t get engaged for that kind of reason.”
He couldn’t tell her the real reason. Yvonne was timid; if she knew, she would panic herself sick.
“Fine. Yeah, the old man’s making a fuss about marriage. He’s dragging me to meet someone tomorrow too. Every chance he gets, it’s: ‘such-and-such family’s daughter is pretty,’ ‘so-and-so has a good heart.’ It’s killing me. You know I’m the only son of the third generation.”
“Didn’t you say you had no intention of settling down like Marquis Laurent wants?”
“You know my personality and still ask that?”
He flicked her forehead lightly, annoyed that she didn’t realize he was doing this for her.
Of course, he wanted her to know nothing.
“Ow.”
“When I get older, whether I like it or not I’ll inherit the household. I should work hard at the theater troupe while I still can and have fun. My prime won’t last long. So cooperate with me, will you?”
But Yvonne responded firmly to his sly grin:
“No.”
—
“Is Franz still missing?”
“Yes. But apparently he often disappears for days.”
“If he hasn’t shown up for over a week, something could be wrong.”
“Oddly enough, no matter how much we search, there’s no information on Franz Bernicke. It’s as if he doesn’t exist.”
“Could be a false identity. Enough. If he shows up, we’ll hear it from him directly.”
Kirian listened to the next report.
“There’s no reply from Miss Moore. She hasn’t left her house for three days, which makes it more suspicious.”
Yvonne Moore had ignored him for three days. It was an obvious snub.
Such a small thing cowered in fear over everything, yet she could ignore his letters? Unbelievable.
He was busy with business matters and desperately needed contact; it was infuriating.
With no choice left, Kirian decided to visit her himself.
He was an uninvited guest, which was rude—but he had never cared much for manners to begin with.
Growing up in the worst crime city in the world, he hadn’t learned manners or even basic decency.
Now he merely pretended to act human, but what one grows up with never truly leaves.
“Your Grace, we’ve arrived.”
The Moore estate was as beautiful as the rumors said.
He got off some distance from the gate and knocked himself. There was no sign of servants inside.
“A mess.”
Perhaps because the owner was young, nothing seemed organized. Then he heard loud voices inside.
“Listen, Franz. I need Yvonne. And Yvonne needs me.”
“No. Yvonne doesn’t need you.”
Through the gate bars, Kirian spotted Paradi Laurent and Franz.
They continued their heated argument, unaware of his presence.
“Be honest. You’re using Yvonne, aren’t you? Because she’s easy to push around?”
“Franz Bernicke! How can you say that?!”
“Then what? Engagements are for people in love. You gain a lot from it, but Yvonne doesn’t. So withdraw your proposal.”
“You don’t know how much I love her.”
“Are you a thug? Don’t lie.”
“You stop it. You don’t realize it, but Yvonne loves me too. Do you know how many deep memories and strong bonds we have?”
“Nonsense!”
“And fifty years ago, loveless marriages were the norm. Compared to that, we’re best friends. We trust and rely on each other. We know everything about each other. What’s the problem?”
“You—ugh! I can’t talk to you!”
“Sure, you can’t. If you want to be the groom instead, sorry—that spot’s taken.”
Paradi was teasing Franz because he kept talking about Yvonne as if she were someone else—implying Franz wanted to stand as groom beside “Yvonne” and live alone forever.
But Kirian interpreted it very differently. He didn’t know Yvonne *was* Franz.
*Well now… this is amusing.*
Kirian concluded the two were rivals in love over Yvonne.
Two close friends in love with the same woman; one was his sworn brother, and the woman was someone he wanted dead for showing him a side she shouldn’t have.
Snorting at the tangled situation, Kirian quietly hid himself. He sent someone to tail Franz as he left the Moore residence and asked a maid to lead him to the parlor.
“M-my lady is not home right now…”
“I just saw the Laurent heir leaving.”
The maid, Beth, hesitated before answering.
She was one of the few who knew Franz was actually Yvonne—and she supported her secret life.
Because of that second identity, Yvonne could live freely, away from the capital’s scorn.
“They were waiting for the lady too, but she did not return.”
“Where did Miss Moore go?”
“She went to a monastery in the provinces to pray. She will return tomorrow. If you leave a message, I will deliver it to her.”
“No need. Tell Miss Moore I will return at this same time tomorrow.”
“Y-yes…”
Leaving the Moore estate, Kirian went straight to find Franz.
Paradi was nowhere to be seen. Franz was drinking alone in broad daylight.
“Ah—damn it. Another bottle here!”
“A heavier drinker than you look.”
Kirian sat opposite her. The table was covered in bottles.
Franz, eyes half-lidded from alcohol, stared blankly at him. She rubbed her eyes, unable to believe who she was seeing, then sighed deeply.
“Huuuuh. I must be really tired. I’m seeing Kirian Hischelger.”
“…Is being involved with me that upsetting?”
“Nooo. Kirian Hischelger is— Aaaah! Kirian Hischelger is talking!”
Startled, she fell backward off her chair. Fortunately, Kirian caught her head before it hit the floor.
His strong hand gripped her wrist firmly. In the confusion, she ended up clutching his arm, but she still couldn’t get her bearings.
Kirian’s golden eyes seemed to pierce straight through her. They were filled with a blinding, obsessive affection.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
“Did you get dumped or something?”
“…hic…”
She hiccupped from surprise at Kirian’s sudden appearance, but Kirian assumed she was reacting because he hit a nerve.
“Tch. Half the world is women.”
“…hic! N-no, I was…”
“Yvonne Moore. She’s not worth wasting your heart on.”
Yvonne’s face twisted at the sound of her own name.
But Kirian interpreted it as being hurt because he insulted the woman she liked.
And his misunderstanding was sealed when she drove the nail in:
“You shouldn’t talk about Yvonne like that when you don’t even know her.”
“Fine. If I hurt you, I apologize.”
“She’s not the terrible person the capital rumors say she is. Even if you’re Duke Hischelger, that’s too much—”
At that moment—
“There you are! Franz Bernicke!”
“…Huh?”
As she passionately protested, voices called her name. She turned to see the thugs who had once searched for her with Paradi enter the tavern.
“Uh…”
Weapons were in their hands or tucked under their arms—those thick fists alone were weapons.
Dressed as Franz, Yvonne sobered instantly.
“…Ah.”
She was doomed.
She hurried to steady herself and searched her pockets. She always carried pepper spray for situations like this.
*Great. Just great.*
There was a hole in her pocket. The spray was gone.
“You filthy little rat.”
“Hey now, why are you all like this? Your boss started it. Just because I’m a bit pretty, doesn’t mean you can treat me like some bar girl.”
She grabbed at the bottles strewn around, instinctively preparing for defense.
They had no intention of letting “Franz” go.
In fact, she’d been dragged into fights like this multiple times as Franz.
Paradi was always at the center of trouble, and when Yvonne was Franz, she caused enough chaos to look like a different person altogether.
She had always been prepared for something like this to happen when Paradi wasn’t around.
“Don’t come any closer.”
She smashed a bottle on the table. The sharp crack made Kirian raise a brow.
Jagged glass jutted from the long bottleneck. She flashed a grin, holding the broken bottle up.
“Come any closer and it’s you die, I die.”
—
If you’d like, I can also provide a **smoother, more novel-like adaptation** instead of a direct translation.
