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 (Part 4) – Pride and Poison

Bellona’s eyes flickered at Evangeline’s calm remark—that it was fortunate the Duke wasn’t present. The nuance that his absence spared her some discomfort was subtle but infuriating. After all, she had been the one to arrange this meeting precisely for that reason.

Hmph. So what if he’s protecting you? It’s nothing more than a political engagement.

Still, Bellona couldn’t help the image of Duke Decarno Theseus rising unbidden in her mind. That impossibly handsome face, chiseled and cold. She still remembered the jolt that had struck her like lightning when she first saw him at the award ceremony.

Is it possible for a man to look like that?

She hadn’t been able to sleep that night, her heart fluttering like a schoolgirl’s. He had just come of age, yet his air of authority had far outshone her own brother, the then-crown prince. He had looked like someone torn from legend, and every word that passed his lips had only further intoxicated her youthful heart.

Even his distant coldness hadn’t discouraged her—it had only made her feel special. He wasn’t cold only to her, but to everyone. That knowledge had once been her greatest comfort.

But now—that man had chosen someone.

Bellona’s heart burned hotter with jealousy. Her fury renewed as her eyes locked on the quiet, composed figure across from her.

“I suppose it’s understandable,” Bellona said, her voice sweet and sharp. “The Duke is a man of immense pride. I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to experience another… unfortunate street incident. He would never allow disgrace to stain the Teje name.”

“…Yes.”

“Oh dear, forgive me. That was a heavy subject.” Bellona flashed a smile full of false remorse and reached for a macaron. As she chewed slowly, savoring the sugary flavor, Evangeline’s quiet composure made the taste even sweeter.

“Truly though, it was such a shame about Count Ohara. A dreadful tragedy.”

“…Thank you for your concern.”

“But there’s still hope, isn’t there? They haven’t found the body. Who knows? He might return home safe tomorrow.”

Her lips curled as she delivered the blow with deceptive gentleness. Evangeline didn’t flinch, didn’t even move a single finger.

“I was considering hosting a ball soon, to celebrate the Navy’s return,” Bellona continued with practiced nonchalance. “But I wasn’t sure it would be appropriate, considering your… family circumstances. Still, you seem well enough today. You don’t mind if I go ahead with it, do you?”

“No, Your Highness.”

“Wonderful. I would have invited you too, but… well, I suppose it’s best we take our time.”

Her pinky curved daintily around her teacup as she sipped, watching Evangeline carefully. But the woman across from her showed no sign of cracking.

“If you summoned me to speak of the ball…”

“No, no.” Bellona waved her hand with a bright smile, cutting her off. “That’s not why you’re here at all.”

“…I see.”

“There’s something I truly wanted to give you.”

As Evangeline made a slight motion to rise, Bellona rang the bell on the table. A maid entered immediately, as if she’d been waiting. In her arms was a heavy, ornate box.

“Please, take it, Youngae.”

“…What is this?”

“My heart, of course.”

The box was as extravagant as the palace walls—pink and glimmering. Bellona opened it herself, revealing a selection of slightly out-of-fashion dresses that spilled out like wilted flowers.

“I heard things have been difficult lately. I thought you could use some help.”

“Your Highness…”

“Don’t refuse. We’ve known each other long enough to support one another in times like these. Since you’re not married yet, I imagine you haven’t received any allowance from the Duke’s household. But you’ll need something suitable to wear to future banquets, won’t you?”

It was the ultimate insult.

To offer charity—dresses, at that—to the woman poised to become Duchess of Teje, who had ruled over high society until just recently. Both women knew it. The smile Bellona wore was as condescending as it was honeyed.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul.”

“…”

“If word got out, it would tarnish the Duke’s image far more than yours. So I’ll keep it a secret. Now, please—accept my heartfelt gift.”

Bellona nudged the box forward with her fingertips and leaned in expectantly, her eyes glowing with anticipation. This was it—the moment. Surely, now, Evangeline would snap. Cry. Refuse. Rage.

“Oh Hara Youngae. If you’ve misunderstood—”

“No, of course not.”

“…What?”

“How could I refuse the kindness of Her Royal Highness?”

Evangeline bent her knees in a graceful, impeccable curtsy. Bellona’s expression faltered for the first time, lips twitching as she tried to mask her confusion.

Evangeline lifted the box gently, as if accepting a treasure.

“It will be of great help to me right now.”

“…Youngae.”

“In honor of Your Highness’s noble intention to keep this matter private, I shall speak of it to no one. But if word happens to spread… then surely, the maid from earlier must be dismissed.”

At that, Bellona stiffened. Evangeline’s voice remained gentle, respectful—yet her words held unmistakable steel.

“And of course, I will remember Your Highness’s generosity for a long, long time.”

Her dusky pink eyes, deep and unreadable, darkened like velvet shadows. With a final bow, she turned and walked away, box in hand. Bellona could only blink, stunned speechless.

By the time the maid returned, the teacup Bellona threw crashed to the floor in a sharp, lonely sound.

◇ ◆ ◇

Evangeline did not return to the Duke’s residence.

She boarded a public carriage, climbed off near the upper district of Ohara, and slipped down a narrow alley that only those close to the family would know. The front entrance was too crowded with loitering onlookers and reporters. She had no choice.

It didn’t take long for her to catch sight of Philip, who was sneaking out, trying to avoid attention.

“My lord—!”

“Shhh, lower your voice.”

Philip pressed a finger to his lips, and Evangeline nodded quickly. Once he was certain no one had followed her, he led her into a dim, forgotten warehouse at the back of the estate.

“I’m sorry, my lady. I shouldn’t have brought you here, but…”

“There’s no time for formalities.”

“Still… sigh.”

Philip looked like a shadow of his former self. His face was pale, thinned, and sunken. But it wasn’t only the people who had fallen to ruin. The once-brimming warehouse, which used to store rare goods and precious gemstones, was now a shell of its former glory. Broken crates and shattered trinkets lay scattered across the dusty floor.

“So it really has come to this.”

“I’m ashamed. The creditors come daily… they take anything that might fetch even a handful of coins.”

“Of course they do.”

Evangeline’s voice was bitter, but resigned. Her father’s downfall had pulled her into the depths with him—but for those who had invested in their empire, this was only the beginning. She, the heiress of Ohara, bore the responsibility of it all.

“Have you found anything? Records? Financial ledgers?”

“Yes. The Count kept meticulous accounts, but… Maxine, the head accountant, might have known more. Unfortunately, she disappeared during the incident. We don’t even know if she’s alive.”

“…I see.”

Her long lashes trembled at the confirmation. It was what she had feared. Maxine, who had been her father’s most trusted employee, gone without a trace.

Philip, still unsure where to look, finally noticed the box in her hands.

“…My lady, what is that?”

“Oh. This.”

Her lips curled in a smile—fragile and humorless. There would be time to grieve later. She hadn’t come here to mourn.

If not now, then when? She needed to reclaim her position, no matter how small the foothold.

She was even thankful, in her own twisted way, for Bellona’s malice today.

“Take it.”

“…These are dresses? They’re a bit… outdated, aren’t they?”

“They are. But the jewels on them can be reused.”

With a practiced hand, Evangeline began removing the sapphire and ruby embellishments from the dress she wore. Her movements were efficient, almost mechanical.

Philip stared, stunned.

“…My lady.”

He had worked with the Ohara family for decades. He had an eye for value and worth. And even now—no, especially now—he could tell.

This dress… wasn’t meant to be worn. It was never a gift.

It was a declaration of war.