CHAPTER 41……………………………………
Damn that girl. Barak scowled unpleasantly, brushing off his hand that Irina had stomped on midair.
Even the words that she had no attachment to the ducal house, that she had no intention of taking April’s place—he found himself believing them now, whether he wanted to or not. The Irina he’d seen today wasn’t the one he knew.
She wasn’t a scared child worrying about being thrown out of the house, nor was she a girl lingering around for attention.
“Then why the hell did you come back?”
He couldn’t understand. Did she have no pride at all? Even if she wasn’t born a noble, having spent nearly ten years in the ducal house, she could at least behave like one.
The Irina he remembered had always been more noble than anyone else. She must hate seeing everyone in the ducal house.
Barak’s expression twisted in complexity as he ran his hand roughly through his hair, still feeling the pain from his stomped hand.
When he stepped out of the ducal house’s study and started toward his room, he noticed a figure approaching quickly.
“Brother?”
Irina had been one of the people responsible for bringing him to the ducal house, so the past few days had been awkward between them. But at this moment, he had no choice but to call for Lian in his confusion.
It made sense—Lian, usually composed, was sprinting past him in urgency.
“What’s going on?”
From a distance, Lian’s face even seemed wet with tears. Barak let out a short, bitter laugh as Lian brushed past.
He hadn’t seen him like that even when April was injured. Something must have happened.
Tilting his head slightly, Barak noticed Cliff following and grabbed him firmly.
“Sir Cliff.”
“Ah… Master.”
Cliff looked as if he had come from somewhere without even unpacking his things.
Barak’s eyes scanned him briefly, then glanced toward where Lian had run.
“Brother, why are you like that?”
Cliff couldn’t answer. More precisely, he didn’t know how to explain.
He hadn’t received permission from Duke Alexis to speak, and he couldn’t predict the repercussions if he repeated what he’d heard.
Especially since Barak was unpredictable.
“I’m sorry.”
An apology in response to that question made Barak visibly annoyed, but Cliff didn’t care.
“Father!”
Lian burst through the door without knocking. Alexis lifted his head slowly.
Unlike his second son Barak, Lian had never raised his voice inside the house. So Alexis immediately sensed that something was wrong.
Even when we decided to expel Irina from the house, Lian had stayed calm, calmly trying to persuade us.
As Lian panted sharply, Alexis’s eyebrows twitched.
“What happened? You didn’t know, did you?”
“What are you talking about?”
Lian struggled to maintain composure. Seeing his father’s confused face, he drew a deep breath.
He wanted to explain calmly but couldn’t keep steady. Words spun chaotically in his mouth, wanting to escape unfiltered.
He exhaled sharply at his father’s expectant gaze.
“Mother… killed Irina’s father.”
“…What?”
The unexpected words froze Alexis’s face. Not a grimace, not confusion, just frozen. He rose from his chair, stunned.
Killed? By whom?
Even if Irina’s biological father had died, it wouldn’t have shocked him—he had been visibly ill from the start.
Since no news had come for nearly ten years, he had thought him surprisingly well. And he had cursed him as cruel for never once contacting his daughter.
He had thought the man, pretending to care for his daughter, was merely self-serving.
But this… this was unexpected.
“What do you mean?”
Not just death, but being killed. And… by whom?
“Who… killed whom?”
As Alexis slowly stood, Lian let out a small sigh of relief, while also feeling shame at his own incompetence.
Even in this situation, the fact that his father didn’t know—and that his late mother had acted alone—brought him relief.
‘Pathetic.’
Even “pathetic” felt insufficient.
“I heard what you instructed Sir Cliff. I… forcibly accompanied him.”
“I’m not asking about your accompaniment.”
“…”
“Who killed whom?”
“My mother… killed Irina’s father.”
He felt as if he wanted to dig up the grave of the already deceased, to confront Angelica in her coffin and ask what had happened.
The crushing pain that gripped him when Alexis learned of this death was familiar.
He recalled how Barak had lost April in the capital, causing his wife Angelica to go mad.
Sometimes she blamed Barak mercilessly for losing their daughter; other times she pampered him blindly as her child.
In the midst of extreme sadness, anger, and fleeting joy, she had met Irina, who looked exactly like their lost daughter.
“It seems that shortly after bringing Irina to the ducal house, she sent someone to her biological father.”
“…”
“Everyone living in the house told me everything.”
Hearing Lian tremble, Alexis sank into his chair and squeezed his eyes shut.
Damn it. What terrible things had been done to Irina?
Even expelling her in the middle of winter was unforgivable; now learning that his wife killed her father made the situation irreparable.
“What if she wants to return to her biological father?”
He remembered Angelica on the night Irina had decided to come to the ducal house, tearful but determined.
Angelica had treated Irina as a substitute for April, yet cherished her like her own daughter, all the while fearing her.
What if Irina wanted to see her father—and suddenly changed her mind, wanting to go back?
He had thought the absence of anxiety meant things were improving…
“…Hah.”
In reality, it wasn’t better—it was worse.
Even after fearing she might go back, how could they now suggest sending Irina away again so easily?
“…Irina knows everything, Father.”
How disgusting and hateful it must have seemed to hear them ask her to return.
Alexis bit his lips so hard that blood nearly formed.
“Irina… truly…”
Lian lowered his head and muttered softly. Maybe someday it would be okay. Maybe apologies could fix a little.
Even if they could never be like a family again, perhaps some semblance of reconciliation could happen. That hope made him feel foolish. And surely, Irina noticed.
How absurd and laughable it must have been. When he faced her, he couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They fell with a soft plop, and he swallowed hard.
“Die quickly for the sake of your daughter’s future.”
“That was your mother’s words.”
Alicia’s angry voice still echoed vividly in his mind.
“Did she come to the ducal house simply to earn money?”
The answer to Lian’s question was no.
But it no longer mattered—whether she returned out of necessity or with another purpose.
“What does it matter now?”
Alexis exhaled. Right—what does it matter at this point?
No matter how guilty they felt, or whether they didn’t expect Angelica to act that way, the wrongs weren’t undone. The deceased child’s father wouldn’t come back.
They were the ones who had made Irina an orphan.
Alexis wiped his roughened face with one hand.
“I will bring Alicia back.”
His voice was weak, but it was a declaration: even if Alexis said no, he would bring her back.
Alexis said nothing, gazing at Lian with a trance-like stare.
Lian wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, lifted his head, and said:
“She is Irina’s only remaining family, isn’t she?”
