CHAPTER 59………………………………………………
Following me around… turns out it wasn’t a reporter, but a stalker. It was surprising how well he knew my schedule.
I skimmed the front-page article and closed the newspaper.
“I told you not to call me ‘older brother.’”
“You call me older brother, then what should I call you?”
A childish comment and behavior, but true nonetheless.
“I thought you’d be pleased if an article like this came out.”
“…What?”
“Everyone knows that the real April is interested in His Highness Persephone.”
Who could not know about that forced engagement?
And it had been arranged the moment I left the ducal residence.
April had merely been pretending to be me in order to keep Persephone.
“Isn’t it better that this kind of article appears rather than one about the scandal?”
I shrugged lightly, adding my words.
“I really don’t understand why you’re angry.”
“Are you asking that now because you don’t know?”
Barak looked both angry and slightly exasperated.
No matter how much he tried to protect things, he seemed afraid that April Hill Rise’s place would gradually slip away.
“Even if the scandal ends, you’re not the real April, so that’s why I say this.”
If the real April returned, everything would change again.
“You keep trying to take April’s place…!”
“I never took it.”
He hesitated at my calm, cold tone.
“And I have no intention of taking it.”
His sunset-colored eyes began to settle, as if a gentle shadow fell over them. I bent down to pick up the newspaper.
Barak would think I was trying to take April’s place—but if I had truly returned to the ducal residence wanting to live as I had before, it wasn’t taking—it was reclaiming my original place.
The one who had taken it was April. Barak’s insistence that I was “taking” it only reflected his own thoughts.
“In truth, April was the one who took my place.”
“I’ve never thought April ever took it from me.”
I stepped closer and lightly brushed the dust from his shoulder.
“And every time such an article comes out, don’t come to me like this, angry.”
I expected him to push my hand away, but Barak stood frozen, silently watching me.
I smiled at his blank stare.
In his eyes, my face—identical to April’s—was reflected perfectly.
“You can’t hide how nervous and anxious you are.”
“…You.”
“Scared dogs tend to bark louder.”
“You asked once, didn’t you? That you hated me so much.”
Barak didn’t even try to grab the newspaper from my hands; he just stared at me.
It was clear that what he wanted to say wasn’t about the article ending the scandal.
What Barak was addressing was the past, before he found the real April.
When I was a child, I often followed Barak around, frustrated by his indifference.
I realized the question I asked now referred to the long-ago past.
I saw the corners of his lips stiffen, and Barak’s face, unreadable as ever, met my gaze.
“Yes, I hated you that much.”
Why speak this now, after all this time?
“Every time I saw you in this house, I felt so sorry for my sister, the real April, who would come back. I hated that you were called April.”
“Do you think your dislike now has any meaning for me?”
I asked, genuinely curious. The reason Barak expressed such emotions was obvious.
When he had said such things in the past, they had worked on me.
I wanted to be the child of this house and to be recognized by Barak, who disliked me.
Though it was a memory I wished to erase, hearing such words still unsettled me emotionally at times.
“If you want to hate me, go ahead.”
Barak’s feelings toward me no longer mattered.
“If your hatred eases your guilt, then I’ll accept it fully.”
I replied coldly while glancing at the photo decorating the article.
Actually, it wasn’t my photo—it was April’s, someone who looked exactly like me.
It no longer mattered whether he looked at me coldly or hated me enough to tear me apart.
What I had felt for him before, the pain and love, was irrelevant now.
“Don’t let Lady April see this gossip article.”
“The reason I dislike you isn’t just because of my guilt.”
For the first time, Barak admitted the guilt he would never have acknowledged in front of me.
What was going on? I met his gaze, and he looked down, not meeting my eyes, clenching his fist.
“Because of you… my sister who will return…”
He didn’t finish his sentence. I watched silently as he murmured a small curse, “Damn it,” and left the room.
“What was that?”
Leaving a sentence unfinished was unlike Barak—it wasn’t him at all.
If something angered him or irritated him, he always resolved it and said everything he wanted to say. Yet here, for the first time, I saw a different Barak. I swallowed a dry laugh and asked Amber, who looked as if she might suffocate, sitting nearby.
“Seems like Lady April upset Lord Barak quite a bit.”
Amber merely smiled awkwardly, neither confirming nor denying, and came over to assist with my attire.
“Lord Barak cared for Lady April a lot, didn’t he?”
“…I haven’t lived in the ducal residence long enough to see them together very often.”
She handed me a pair of thin silk gloves after adjusting my dress.
A wise answer—neither upsetting me nor creating future complications. I smiled faintly.
Though she hadn’t been here long, her prudence was clear.
Having finished my preparations, I left the room.
Downstairs, I saw the steward holding the bouquet I had instructed to be prepared.
Receiving the lush bouquet of red roses, I touched the petals lightly.
“This is the bouquet you mentioned. The carriage is fully prepared as well.”
“Thank you.”
The carriage door before me opened.
“To whom are you giving this bouquet?”
I answered lightly to the steward, who smiled kindly.
“To Sir Beatrice.”
“Pardon?”
“To Sir Beatrice, the bouquet.”
“Ah…”
The atmosphere cooled instantly, but I paid no mind.
It was clear that “Sir Beatrice” referred to Adonis Beatrice, not Count Beatrice, Adolf Beatrice.
He was the only one worthy of receiving the bouquet.
However, everyone in the noble house knew why presenting it to Adonis might be awkward.
It was widely known that Count Beatrice looked down on Adonis, his son, for being more talented.
By now, the Beatrice household was likely more somber than festive.
Even winning, one wouldn’t be congratulated; even congratulating, one couldn’t. It was absurd.
Looking at the ducal family, it seemed they only had one child: Adolf Beatrice.
“Will that be alright?”
“Of course. My intentions are pure—I just want to congratulate Adonis. What could Count Beatrice say?”
Moreover, the duchess herself personally congratulating him would hardly provoke overt displeasure.
“If no one congratulates him, that would be sad in itself.”
“Have you returned?”
Lian, who had left the house when taking Irina, returned to the ducal residence, pale-faced.
“Where is Irina?”
“She’s out briefly. Had you come a little earlier, you could have met her.”
“That would not be something she would want.”
In public, Irina performed the role of April perfectly.
Like a child who had never been abandoned at the ducal residence, she smiled purely and lovingly, as though raised solely with affection.
At times, she seemed even more like a daughter than the real April.
Whenever such thoughts arose, I was filled with guilt and disappointment in my own indecision.
Lian removed his coat with a bitter smile.
Now that Irina was briefly absent, it was easier to speak to her father.
“Is Father in his office?”
“Yes.”
Why in the world did the temple search for Irina’s father?
