Chapter 6
Charlotte’s life had been dictated by the whims of others: beaten by the Duchess, subtly harassed by the Duke, ignored by the servants, openly discriminated against, and ultimately betrayed by her own sibling and poisoned to death.
All of these outcomes were the result of the Duchess’s choices. They were never choices Charlotte herself had made. Therefore, this was not Charlotte’s life.
Now, Charlotte wanted to live her own life going forward.
A life that could twist the faces of all those who wronged her—my own life.
But…
“…I can’t do it alone.”
Charlotte was, after all, just a physically weak woman. That was all.
She had no money, no power, no strength.
The only thing Charlotte could boast of was the knowledge of the future up to roughly two years ahead.
But even such knowledge would be useless if she failed to use it effectively. That’s why she had to make a wise choice.
Who would want this information the most? Who would need it the most?
And who could become a source of strength for her?
The answer was clear…
“Milady, we’ve arrived.”
The carriage came to a stop, and a familiar voice spoke. Charlotte straightened her wrinkled dress and stepped out through the open door.
Her destination was none other than the plaza where the victory ceremony of Grand Duke Vermier—celebrated for his triumph in the Astral War—was taking place.
The streets were bustling with people, and the carriage driver and knight assigned to escort her frowned as they approached Charlotte.
“Look at the crowd. It’s quite substantial, isn’t it? Am I not correct?”
The knight approached her with a teasing tone.
“Wouldn’t it be better if you turned back now? If something were to happen amidst so many people, it would be… inconvenient for me.”
His flushed face reeked of alcohol.
Even as an official escort, he didn’t hesitate to drink while attending to his mistress. Charlotte couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh, realizing all too vividly her precarious position.
“Do you think something will happen right before your eyes? Then it’s fine.”
“…What?”
“I mean, I will go alone, and you will remain here.”
The knight hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.
“That’s impossible. It’s dangerous.”
“When did you ever care about my safety?”
Charlotte scoffed, lifting her chin to meet his gaze.
“If something happens to me, and you claim you tried to follow but were stopped, it will be I who is blamed, not you. After all, it will be me who suffers, not you.”
She gestured toward a nearby shop behind him.
“Go into the tavern. I’ll come there once my business is done.”
The knight still hesitated. He was weighing whether to abandon his duty for the pleasures of drinking, or to continue guarding a princess who offered him little reward. Naturally, the scale tipped toward the former. Immediate indulgence outweighed the protection of a lowly noblewoman.
“…Do not hold me responsible.”
“That will not happen.”
Charlotte responded lightly and turned, stepping into the crowd. Draped in a worn robe and hood, she began weaving through the streets.
Children ran excitedly around her, their faces alight with joy, overseen by adults, while merchants tried to attract the attention of these families.
It was the victory ceremony of Grand Duke Vermier, and everyone was in high spirits.
“Cassel Vermier…”
Grand Duke Cassel Vermier.
He was more often referred to by his notorious nicknames than his official title. The more favorable ones called him a “murderer,” referencing the blood he had shed, but most simply called him a “libertine,” a “rascal,” or a “degenerate”—a man who threw himself at women at the slightest provocation.
In truth, Vermier was exactly that. On the battlefield, he became a frenzied killer, swinging his sword and firing indiscriminately, drenched in blood. Back in the capital, he threw lavish banquets every night, surrounding himself with women, drowning in perfume to mask the stench of violence.
Charlotte recalled all this as she paused to take in the old plaza and the worn fountain, noticing a cloaked man perched on its edge.
That man would die one year from now.
Unless Charlotte acted.
Charlotte knew the future up to two years ahead. In that future, Grand Duke Vermier would be dead—killed within about a year.
The reason was simple: he would lose in the imperial power struggle.
Soon, Charlotte’s family, the Aubrey Dukes, and Richard’s family, the Cosmo Counts, would publicly declare support for the Second Prince on his coming of age day. The nobles, who had feigned neutrality due to weakness while subtly ignoring the First Prince—the child of the previous Empress—would seize this opportunity to side with Charlotte’s family.
However, the Second Prince had a violent temperament and was ill-suited for the throne.
The populace favored the First Prince, who was backed by Cassel Vermier, which balanced the scales.
But one year later, the Second Prince ascends the throne. How did that happen?
‘The Emperor’s will was tampered with.’
The Emperor was killed. Upon learning this, the First Prince, alongside Vermier, attempts a rebellion. But the rebellion fails, leaving Vermier dead, the First Prince exiled, and his supporters destroyed. Meanwhile, the Aubrey and Cosmo families, who sided with the Second Prince, prosper beyond measure.
This was the future Charlotte had witnessed during her lifetime.
But she had no intention of letting it unfold smoothly.
If this future came to pass, her revenge would be impossible—she would have no power to enact it.
Being an adopted child of low status, no one would heed her words. She had no strength or wealth to wield.
Then what could she do?
If she couldn’t do it on her own, she could borrow someone else’s power.
The “someone else” she had in mind was Grand Duke Vermier.
Charlotte needed power, Vermier needed information, and together they could achieve victory. Whether he would accept her offer was unknown—it was a gamble.
That was why she had come here deliberately. She wanted to confront the Duke in secret, without anyone noticing.
Charlotte deliberately made her footsteps audible as she approached the man perched on the fountain.
The man, hood still shading his face from the sunlight, glanced up at her impassively.
“No one will know.”
Charlotte met his gaze steadily.
“I doubt anyone would suspect that the star of the victory ceremony would spend time here, away from the crowd.”
The fingers he had resting on his thigh twitched and curled. A deep line appeared between his brows.
“How dare you interrupt my time, knowing exactly who I am?”
His voice was icy, bone-chilling. Charlotte forced herself to steady her breath and planted her feet firmly on the ground.
“Have you lost your mind?”
The Duke removed his hood, revealing a somewhat tangled head of hair—not enough to mar his appearance. It was so dark it appeared almost green in the sunlight.
A sharp, curved brow ended at his forehead, casting a shadow over sunken, shaded eyes. His facial features were sculpted: sharp, severe, yet somehow commanding.
His dull gray eyes, dark under-eye circles, and pale complexion gave him a somber, oppressive presence. Beautiful in composition, yet dark, heavy, sharp, rough, and deep—a contradictory allure that was undeniable.
Even Charlotte, observing him up close, could understand why countless women had pined for him over the years.
