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~Chapter 47~
His voice dropped even lower.
“Whether you cry out in injustice, get angry, cry, or curse.”
In contrast to his dry, restrained voice, his thumb gently brushed her cheek—like he was wiping away tears that hadn’t even fallen.
‘What difference does it make if I get angry?’
‘Why would I feel wronged?’
‘Wasn’t I just stupid for being fooled? Pathetic.’
It was as if Noxian had read the thoughts in Shariette’s head.
“My smart personal doctor might think: what’s the point of getting angry over something already past.”
Noxian’s lips curved in a mocking smile.
“That’s the stupid way of thinking, Shariette.”
“……!”
Stupid? While Shariette was still stunned, he continued without hesitation.
“Being deceived isn’t your fault. The more ridiculous the lie, the more believable it seems. That’s when you should rip out the liar’s tongue.”
He added with a soft smile, making it even worse.
“But if you know it’s wrong and still keep yourself trapped there—then that’s your fault.”
“……”
Shariette froze, his words becoming rougher and rougher.
“Say it—‘I was wronged, I was angry, it was horrible.’ If you don’t, then anyone, even you yourself, can throw you back into that place again.”
It was a high-handed command, but she couldn’t find any words to argue back.
‘…I was wronged. I was angry. It was horrible.’
Shariette muttered the words under her breath. The sound felt strange, but not so hard to say.
“Then why are you the one getting angry?” she asked.
Noxian paused, staring at her for a long time.
“Because you are mine. Whatever was said to you in the past, from now on it’s the same as saying it to me. Thinking about it, it even makes me angry in retrospect.”
“W-What…?”
“So you also have a duty not to allow that nonsense.”
Shariette gaped at him. He’s the one spouting nonsense now!
“It’s simple. If someone denies what you say—it’s nonsense. If they judge you negatively—it’s nonsense too.”
She stood frozen, listening blankly as he continued his string of absurdities.
“Words like: ‘because of,’ ‘how dare,’ ‘only,’ ‘just.’ If those are included, then it’s nonsense. Most of all—”
He leaned down until his forehead was almost touching hers, and spoke slowly, as if engraving each word.
“If it’s different from what I say, then it’s absolute nonsense. Never let it into your ears. Otherwise, I’ll have to rip out the tongue of the one who dirtied what’s mine.”
Shariette’s whole body shivered.
She opened her mouth to argue, but his next words shut her down again.
Smooth, flowing, yet chilling.
“I’ll say this in advance—everything about you, from a single strand of your hair to the curses you’re thinking inside right now, I consider right and perfect, because they’re yours.”
Her eyes widened. How did he know she was cursing him in her head?
“So if anyone dares speak nonsense, bring them to me. I’ll rip out their tongue for the crime of opposing my words.”
‘Stop talking about ripping things out!’
Noxian smirked as he watched her gape in shock.
“Because you are mine. What’s yours is mine.”
It was the perfect nonsense.
A few days later.
“Miss Shariette, you’ve been asked to come down for a moment.”
Mia called her while she was reading a book.
“Who’s asking?”
“The Duke and Duchess. It seems a guest has arrived.”
Shariette closed her book, turning it upside down on the table to show she was finished.
“A guest? Why would they call me?”
“They said the guest is here to see you.”
Even Mia looked puzzled as she tilted her head. Shariette did the same.
A guest? The kind who meets the Duke and Duchess first?
On the way to the reception room, Shariette saw maids and servants gathered in groups, whispering excitedly.
“Did you see? Did you see?”
“Kyaa! It’s just like the rumors said!”
“Maybe he came to see Lady Nixia?”
“But Lady Nixia already met someone else before—”
“Then why? The Rubellots and the Genoas aren’t exactly close allies.”
Even the normally quiet maids were squealing with excitement.
“Unbelievable! I just heard the Duchess called for Miss Shariette!”
“Sh—oh, there she is!”
They weren’t frightened; they looked thrilled and giddy.
I’d like to know what this is about too.
When Shariette opened the door, the first face she saw was Duchess Marian, looking displeased. The atmosphere inside was completely different from the hallway outside.
The Duke sat beside his wife, cautiously watching her mood. When Shariette entered, his face brightened.
“Miss Verdette, welcome. Come, sit here.”
She bowed politely and sat where the Duke indicated—across from the “guest,” who seemed to be the cause of this strange mood.
“Ah, so you are Lady Verdette. It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Caiel Genoa.”
The young man stood, placing a hand over his chest and bowing in perfect etiquette.
“Hello. I’m Shariette Verdette.”
Out of habit, she copied his greeting. Caiel blinked in surprise.
Normally, a lady should curtsy with her dress or extend her hand for a kiss. Instead, Shariette had greeted him like a man.
The Duke and Duchess barely hid their laughter. To them, her odd behavior was familiar, but to others, it was not.
I should tell her later, Marian thought. But for now, this is amusing enough.
Her earlier sour expression faded.
“The young man here is the son of Count Genoa. You’ve met the Count before, haven’t you?” the Duke said.
Shariette thought for a moment. Silver hair with a violet hue, violet eyes. Genoa. She remembered—the woman who had collapsed in the tearoom had the same hair and name.
Caiel spoke, confirming her memory.
“I heard you saved my mother not long ago. I’ve come on behalf of my parents to thank you personally.”
Shariette recalled how the Count and Countess had held her hands, thanking her over and over, promising to repay her kindness.
“Truly, thank you, Lady Verdette. We were so shocked when we first heard the news. For you to be there at that time—it was heaven’s blessing for our family.”
“It wasn’t me, really. It was thanks to Mr. Anderson.”
“Anderson?”
“The apothecary clerk who gave me the medicine as a free sample.”
“The medicine was important, yes—but you were the one who used it correctly and took the right action.”
“…Maybe,” Shariette admitted reluctantly.
She studied his calm violet eyes. They resembled the Count’s.
Sending their son instead of a servant must mean they considered this important, she thought.
Her mind wandered briefly to Noxian.
“Because you are mine. What’s yours is mine.”
His voice lingered in her head. She quickly shook it away and looked back at Caiel, who smiled politely and handed her an envelope.
It was thick ivory paper, decorated with embossed patterns, lace, and ribbon. It looked far too fancy to simply tear open.
“My mother asked me to deliver this letter to you personally.”
A letter too? Shariette stared curiously at it.
Caiel waited until she took it, then explained.
“If you read it, you’ll see details about a few gifts of gratitude, and also an invitation to the Crown Prince’s birthday banquet next month.”
