Chapter 4: Secret Schemes
by RingA gray clearing shrouded in darkness.
A man in a deep brown robe entered cautiously, glancing around with nervous energy. Thankfully, no prying eyes followed.
Phew—
Just as he began to relax, his face twisted in horror when another man strode confidently into the clearing. Good grief.
“Your Highness!”
The man scolded him in a hushed but sharp tone.
In response, the other man shot back, “Didn’t I tell you not to call me that in public?”
“You should at least disguise yourself before saying that!”
How could he demand not to be addressed as “Your Highness” while walking around so boldly?
“It’s nighttime. And people aren’t as interested in others’ faces as you think.”
“Depends on the person.”
Pretty faces attract attention, you know.
Not wanting to waste time bickering, the robed man cut to the chase.
“Why did you summon me so suddenly? Don’t tell me—”
“…”
“—you’re returning to the palace?”
A flicker of hope danced in his steel-gray eyes.
“No.”
“…”
Of course not.
“Then why call me? If you’re not going back?”
“There’s something I need you to do.”
The man pouted but accepted the wax-sealed letter handed to him.
“What is this?”
“None of your concern.”
“Where should I send it?”
“4th Ant Road, No. 13.”
“Who lives there?”
“Chevigné Claude.”
“Chevigné Claude…”
He wanted to ask who that was but knew he wouldn’t get an answer. Not that it mattered.
He was a subordinate, and the other was his lord. Even if this wasn’t the palace, and even if his lord wasn’t seated on the crown prince’s throne, their relationship remained unchanged. It always would.
Tucking the letter into his inner pocket, he hesitated before speaking again.
“Your Highness.”
“Again?”
“…Forgive me.”
“What is it?”
“How long will you stay there?”
“…”
“Only a season remains. Once it passes, the throne—”
“I know.”
The interruption was firm.
“I’ll return before then. Without fail.”
Though his voice was calm, the weight behind his words was unmistakable.
Even in the dark, his eyes burned with resolve.
Mirabel woke Lise at dawn.
“Mmm… What’s going on?”
Rubbing her eyes, Lise sat up groggily.
“What do you mean? Today’s your marriage meeting! Don’t tell me you forgot?”
“Of course not. I remember it too well… Yawn.”
She stretched, then frowned.
“But the meeting’s at noon. Why wake me so early?”
“Because we need time to prepare! Now get up!”
Defeated by Mirabel’s persistence, Lise was dragged to the bath.
The tub was filled with rose petals, and a few drops of fragrant oil had just been added. Lise dipped her toes in first, slowly sinking into the warm water.
The heat loosened her stiff muscles, and she nearly dozed off—until the maids began kneading her skin like dough.
“Ouch!”
Are they torturing me under the guise of a massage?
She wracked her brain—had she ever wronged them?
‘Hmm… Not that I recall.’
Sure, she’d been a brat as a child, but surely they wouldn’t hold a grudge this long?
The rose petals made her feel oddly bridal, as if preparing for a wedding night.
Of course, this was just a marriage meeting, but someday, she would have a wedding night. Once, she’d dreamed it would be with Cain. Now?
‘I’d rather die.’
After the bath, she was handed over to the cosmetics team. Layers of creams and powders were applied—more meticulously than for any banquet.
Well, at banquets, the lighting hides flaws. Here, it’s just natural light. Raw honesty.
Mirabel styled her hair, weaving it into an elaborate updo. Lise admired her reflection—until she noticed Mirabel fussing over her bangs.
“Mirabel, pin them up.”
Mirabel paused, hesitant.
“But… you look younger and prettier with bangs.”
“I don’t care about looking younger. They’re suffocating me.”
“Still, I think—”
Mirabel was torn.
Doesn’t she realize her scar will be visible?
But Lise didn’t care. Every time she looked in the mirror, she saw not her reflection but her fate. Compared to that tragic destiny, what was a scar?
“Fine. I’ll pin them up.”
Swallowing her tears, Mirabel obeyed.
When it was done, Lise grinned.
“See? Much better.”
She admired her smooth, round forehead—something she hadn’t seen in ages.
“Y-Yes, my lady.”
Mirabel forced a smile.
‘Has the scar grown? It looks bigger today…’
“Shall we go?”
Rise stood, lifting her skirts with a bright smile.
“Wait—my lady!”
Mirabel grabbed her arm.
“What?”
“It’s just…”
This was the hardest sentence of Mirabel’s life.
“Spit it out.”
“C-Could we… apply more concealer?”
Truthfully, Lise hadn’t planned to marry again.
Her dream had always been simple: a family.
Not for the wedding dress or the fantasy—but because, in her past life, she’d grown up alone.
She didn’t need wealth. A small home would suffice. A humble life with a partner, raising children with love—that was all she wanted.
A dream she’d died without fulfilling. And now, she’d nearly repeated the same mistake.
She wasn’t greedy. She just wanted someone ordinary, someone to respect and grow old with.
Barring any surprises, her marriage would be decided today.
Dressed in her most elegant gown, Lise descended the stairs with Mirabel’s support.
At the end of this hallway was the parlor—and her potential husband.
How should she greet him?
‘Nice to meet you’?
No. They’d crossed paths at banquets before.
Had they even spoken? She couldn’t remember.
Back then, her mind had been filled with Cain. Anyone else was invisible.
How laughable.
She’d nearly missed her future husband because she was obsessed with a man who meant nothing.
She’d make it up to him.
She’d make him so happy he’d scream.
Fired up, she quickened her pace—only to freeze when she heard shouting.
Arguing? Cursing?
“What’s going on?”
Mirabel shrugged, just as confused.
Gripping her skirts, Lise hurried forward. Mirabel tightened her grip, bracing Lise’s unsteady legs.
When they flung the door open—
Lise nearly fainted.
Her potential husband, the Rubent heir, was being dragged by his hair by a furious woman.
Servants tried to intervene, but it was useless.
Her mother stood in the corner, wringing her hands helplessly.
“What’s happening?”
Lise rushed over. The answer stunned her.
“Oh, Lise! That woman—she’s his mistress!”
“…Excuse me?”
“She found out about the meeting and stormed in! What a disgrace!”
“You bastard! How could you do this to me?!”
The woman’s shriek filled the room.
By the looks of it, Rubent’s heir wouldn’t have any hair left by the end of this.
How did this happen?
It felt like a scene from a trashy drama.
But one thing was clear:
Today’s meeting is ruined.
After the chaos, Mirabel filled her in.
“Chevigné Claude?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“That’s the mistress’s name?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“A famous singer?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Mirabel.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“…Maybe I shouldn’t get married.”
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