Chapter 50
Dera confirmed that Zakerin was dying and slowly pulled another red-marked needle from her sewing kit.
Without hesitation, she stabbed the needle into herself and muttered,
“So it ends like this… even I feel trivial. If I’m going to die anyway, I wanted to ruin others completely too.”
Then Dera slowly sat down. Her body was stiffening rapidly.
“I hope our young lady, the Countess Alantra, is relentlessly held and used. I wanted to see her utterly destroyed!”
With these words, laced with a curse, Dera laughed. It was a wicked laugh that genuinely wished for someone’s misfortune.
The curse flowed out with her shallow breaths until her last. Even death could not overcome her malice.
Marilla turned her body as she watched Betty flee.
Her now-aging body creaked under fatigue and stress. But the thing that tormented Marilla most was guilt.
Even knowing it was unavoidable, she felt human guilt.
Emotions became more complicated with age, unlike the simple desires she used to have.
She thought of Shay, who had cried out in betrayal. Her heart ached.
It could have been called deception, but this pain was real.
She had raised Shay with her own hands from infancy. The soft, tender smell of her child’s skin lingered in her memory.
Her little lady had been gentle and always smiling. It was hard not to care for a child who loved people purely.
Marilla truly loved Shay. She had even watched and raised Shay longer than her own grandchildren raised by her children.
Yet, for the sake of her family, Marilla had taken the hand of Count Alantra. Fearful that harm might come to her family, she could not tell Shay the truth.
She had deceived her.
Now it was time to atone.
But could it be called pure atonement?
If Shay had remained Lady Alantra rather than becoming the Grand Duchess, or if her marriage had placed her in a weaker family incapable of opposing the Alantras, would she have confessed the truth?
Time had brought with it a desire for safety and stability. Even if it was petty and shameful, it could not be helped. This was the best Marilla could do.
Marilla knew that even though Shay had felt despair and betrayal, she had shown mercy because Shay still had use.
Marilla could not predict what the consequences would be once Shay no longer needed her.
One thing was certain: Shay would be far more merciful than Count Alantra.
Marilla approached Shay, who had regained her composure, bowed her head, and spoke:
“As you instructed, I told Betty as if I had not yet been discovered. Now, the plan is simply to attach a new letter to the messenger bird, so that the Count believes I am still his spy.”
The letter Marilla had not sent contained detailed explanations of Shay’s partial memory loss, her continued efforts to win the Duke’s favor, and the fact that three maids had been dismissed from Shay’s side.
By conveying selected information through the messenger bird, they could deceive the other party and guide events in the desired direction.
“Good, well done,” Shay replied, her gaze free of any resentment. But Marilla knew better than anyone that the warmth that had once been there was gone.
Shay’s face was as clean as if she had never cried. Her expression, devoid of any smile, was transparent and noble, like pure porcelain.
“As I said, if the nanny does her double-agent role well, I will give her grandson the highest distinction. You know by now, but his father is cruel, and I’m not sure the painkiller he gave his grandson is effective. I will secretly assign someone to monitor him and report the progress, so act accordingly.”
“I understand.”
Shay respectfully bowed to Marilla.
Though appearing calm, her heart throbbed painfully, as if stabbed with knives.
Only now did Shay realize that what she had been holding onto all this time was nostalgia and illusions from her childhood.
Loss from her mother’s absence, the affection she craved from her father and brother, and misplaced trust in a nanny she thought unchangeable—all had been projected onto her, leading to misplaced expectations.
Moreover, the timing of Marilla’s grandchild falling ill seemed suspicious. Her weak constitution had worsened suddenly three months before Shay’s marriage. Doctors could not find the cause.
Had this been orchestrated in anticipation of her calling Marilla after the wedding?
Her father, William, never trusted anyone. He always assumed others were thinking secretly, as he himself did.
He had instructed the maids only about their own duties, and had separately ordered the nanny to check for pregnancy, forbidding them from sharing any information. They were threatened with consequences if they disobeyed.
Unlike the three maids, Marilla felt immense guilt for being caught up in this scheme. Her heart sank.
But Shay knew she had to remain calm.
“The blame is not mine, but theirs.”
Fortunately, Shay could center herself.
If her father were present, he would have subtly shifted all blame to her. He enjoyed making people dependent on him and distrusting everyone else.
It had taken her a long time to realize this.
There were times when she had sought affection, been frustrated, despairing at cruel words, and controlled by false words.
The important thing was that she had decided to live her own life.
“Marilla.”
“Yes.”
Shay’s call drew a respectful reply from Marilla. This time, her bowed head concealed her expression.
Shay felt a pang of emotion.
When I lost my memory, why was the nanny so obsessed with feeding me cookies? Was it because she worried I might be sick?
Did she still care for me? Tell me she did. Tell me she loved me.
These were desperate words of affection she longed for.
Suppressing all these thoughts, Shay masked her face and warned Marilla:
“Do not think that just because I’ve treated you generously now, you can take liberties. If you do, you will truly regret it. Conduct yourself accordingly.”
“Understood.”
“Now leave.”
“Yes.”
Marilla departed.
She would continue her role as a double agent while being monitored by the Grand Ducal family.
‘I wish I had someone I could trust, but for now, it will have to be someone from Benjamin’s side.’
Shay pressed her thin fingers to her forehead.
Monitoring.
It was unbearable to think that someone who had once shown her such care would be part of this ending.
‘Am I really someone unworthy of happiness, as Father says? Is my beauty only good for fulfilling his needs, bringing misfortune to those around me? I know it’s nonsense, yet these thoughts refuse to leave me.’
A sudden sound of the door opening brought someone in.
Shay did not look up.
Only one person could enter the Grand Ducal residence without revealing his identity: Benjamin.
Her head throbbed.
‘I told him to express his love with words… was I crazy?’
She hated that she had shown her emotional bottom, only to realize his heart was never expressed with words, leaving her feeling miserable.
‘Pretending to care so pitifully, yet in the crucial moment, he cannot even say he loves me. Is it some token guilt? Not so shameless after all?’
Either way, his devotion to her was not love.
What was it, then?
Was all her past misbehavior a misguided attempt to confirm his love?
Yet why did she still want to confirm it with him?
If he had no feelings, shouldn’t she have been satisfied with his kindness alone? Wouldn’t that have been easier than the torment of “love”?
“I have bad news.”
Shay still held her forehead, not looking up.
“What is it?”
“Zakerin and Dera died in prison. There were poisoned needles nearby. They were strongly attached to themselves, so I didn’t expect them to commit suicide. It’s my fault.”
“They… are dead, then.”
She had wished countless times for their absence when they tormented her.
Yet hearing that they were actually gone, amidst her unstable emotions, made her chest tighten painfully.
