Chapter 8
“Then… does that mean my rights remain intact?”
Elzenon nodded, as if the very question was absurd.
“Correct. Legally speaking, you are not considered disinherited. Parents cannot simply sever their ties with a missing child on a whim.”
“……”
“However, if you marry and take your husband’s name, your right of succession is nullified. That’s why it isn’t as significant as it sounds.”
Elzenon spoke lightly, even moving to close his book, but Dalia stopped him with a sharp question.
“Strange. If the law says so, why is it so rare to find a female lord? From what I’ve heard, even in cases where male heirs exist, the eldest daughter occasionally inherits—but only in progressive cities or the harsh Northlands, and even then, such cases are extremely rare.”
Elzenon faltered, an uncomfortable expression crossing his face. Seeing that Dalia would not back down, he reluctantly continued.
“Details of succession law are not common knowledge. Yet, for heirs, it is the very first subject taught. Preserving bloodline and power is considered an obligation. Even the laziest of nobles are drilled to memorize it, to the point it becomes second nature.”
“Then… my father would have known as well?”
“Yes. Which is why most fathers hide this fact from their daughters, marrying them off early to ensure the title and lands pass directly to a son. Over generations, this custom became ingrained. Especially here in the conservative South, it’s taken for granted that parents can decide everything for their children until they come of age…”
His voice trailed off under her steady gaze. Dalia let out a bitter laugh and picked up the thread.
“All decisions… such as my marriage.”
“Exactly. Even marriage. That’s why noble daughters here are always wed before their coming-of-age ceremony. No lord in his right mind would let his son-in-law take his daughter’s surname, so the law has effectively become a dead letter.”
“I see.”
Her lips curved into a faint smile. That was the answer she had sought.
Dalia remembered vividly: when the viscountess first announced her pregnancy, the viscount had nearly burst with joy. Laughing loudly in front of her, he had declared to everyone that his true heir was finally on the way.
To the man who had always despised her, who sought only to discard her through marriage, the thought of the Borbon lands and title falling wholly into her hands would have been intolerable—enough to make him rage himself into an early grave.
Elzenon’s voice brought her back. His gaze was heavy with concern.
“But… missing? My lady, what exactly do you mean?”
She had framed her question earlier as if imagining herself gone missing.
“What dangerous idea are you entertaining?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“How can you say that? The lands beyond the estate are perilous. And above all…”
He stopped short, unable to voice his fear. But Dalia already knew.
“If I leave on my own, the greatest danger won’t be strangers beyond our borders. It will be my father, who will stop at nothing to track me down.”
Whether to sell her off to Shiray, or—if that failed—to kill her outright.
But if she managed to disappear while retaining her right of succession…
Then the viscount would be forced to live in torment, grinding his teeth in sleepless nights until she resurfaced.
“If I wasn’t prepared for that much… I would never have started this.”
Her voice was firm as she looked directly at the lawyer.
“Unless you wish me to die by my father’s hand, I must ask you to keep everything we discussed today a secret.”
“Of course, my lady.”
As Dalia rose, Elzenon followed suit with a conflicted expression.
“But… have you considered how you will live? The world outside is harsher than you imagine, especially for someone raised as a noble’s daughter.”
“I have plans. Thank you for your concern.”
“…You’ve changed, my lady. Remarkably so.”
“Have I?”
“Yes. You’re fully grown now. If only you would remain unmarried and stay here in the estate…”
In truth, Elzenon considered lowly usurers like Shiray utterly unworthy of her. When Dalia answered with only an enigmatic smile, he flustered and quickly bowed.
“Forgive me. That was presumptuous.”
“It’s quite all right.”
As the conversation ended and he turned to leave, Dalia’s voice stopped him once more.
“Would you mind turning around for a moment? I need to adjust my clothes.”
“Ah—yes, of course!”
Puzzled by her stillness, he nonetheless obeyed. The moment his back was turned, Dalia slipped a watch from her sleeve.
Thanks to days of careful observation, she had timed her father’s routines precisely. Freezing time to search his study and steal the necessary key had been easy.
Who would have thought Father, suspicious enough to mistrust even his wife, kept part of his fortune hidden outside the manor…
Still, by halting time and scouring his bedchamber and study, she had uncovered the location of a hidden safe in Elzenon’s office.
With a sharp click, the world froze. Dalia quickly moved behind his desk, pushed aside the bookshelf, and revealed the safe.
Without the full strength of the full moon, I don’t know how long this will last. I must hurry.
Dust clung to the metal surface, proof it had been long untouched—a final emergency reserve.
The estate’s vault would be noticed instantly if touched. But this one… he might not realize for quite some time.
Working quickly with the two keys, she opened it. Inside lay her father’s secret funds. It wasn’t a vast fortune—he had squandered too much on gambling—but it was more than enough to buy her some freedom.
Father, I’ll just borrow some of what you wanted to save for your precious son.
Escorted to her carriage by Elzenon, Dalia studied his expression. He looked torn—anxious about what she was planning, yet secretly excited, like a co-conspirator.
At least today’s conversation won’t leak.
Satisfied, she waved. He stood watching until her carriage dwindled into the distance.
“Makes sense. Who could possibly like the viscount, who scorns and bullies at every turn?”
She muttered under her breath.
“What was that, my lady?” Mary, her maid, perked up.
“Nothing at all.”
Dalia smiled warmly at the girl. She resolved that if Mary’s fate did not tie her to Latrice, she would summon her to the capital after settling there.
The viscount was stingy even with his servants—Mary would hardly object to leaving.
And once I claim the headship, I can always bring her back with me.
As the days slipped by, Dalia quietly made her preparations.
The viscount and his wife, without consulting her, announced her marriage to Shiray and even staged an extravagant pre-wedding banquet, inviting him in person.
They hadn’t wasted any time. The wedding date was declared as well, brazenly imposed without her consent.
That night—the night before the wedding—would be the perfect time to flee.
By coincidence, it was also the night of the full moon, the very same night she remembered from her past life. The viscount, fond of omens, had chosen it deliberately for its supposed auspicious power.
All the better. The full moon will strengthen my watch’s power.
She decided to attend the banquet regardless, to avoid raising suspicion.
The moment she entered the hall, the rich aroma of food engulfed her.
In truth, she had never once eaten her fill at such feasts. Servants would bind her in suffocating corsets, leaving her too breathless to eat more than a few polite bites.
But tonight, dressed in a comfortable white gown of simple cut, she felt no such constraint.
She intended to eat her fill—for strength to escape, and because she no longer intended to live bound by suffocating customs.
The banquet hall brimmed with nobles and officials. At the head table sat the viscount, his wife, and Latrice. Below them, places had been set for the “happy couple”: Dalia and Shiray.
“……”
Dalia’s gaze lingered on the heaping platters before her. Her mouth watered involuntarily.
Since her return from death, all her senses had grown unnervingly vivid.
Hungry…
She picked up her fork and knife, carved a generous piece of steak, and slowly placed it into her mouth.
Though she knew it was the same fare she had once eaten on this very day, the taste now was incomparable. No more nibbling like a nervous sparrow.
Back then, I was too anxious to taste anything at all…
Now, every bite of the tender meat melted on her tongue. Savory juices burst forth, laced with smoky fire and fragrant spices.
It was exquisite.
As she chewed slowly, savoring the flavor, a sigh of pure contentment slipped out. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she let the aftertaste linger.
Then, with growing appetite, she set her knife and fork to work again. The steak vanished swiftly.
Leaning back with a full stomach, she let out a soft breath.
How long had it been since she had felt this simple, unfamiliar satisfaction?
And why, she wondered, did it feel so much like relief?
