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Chapter 52
My Father Was So…
“Are you saying you knew my biological father, Count Paul Heredian, well?”
At her question, Magus quietly turned over the frame he had laid face down and showed it to Lorencia.
The moment she saw the portrait inside, she felt as though a sharp spear had pierced her chest.
And in that instant, she finally understood the painful truth Teishar had spoken of.
Lorencia slowly lifted the corners of her lips. She picked up the frame, brushing it tenderly.
The man in the portrait looked remarkably like her.
“My father was so…”
What Magus had meant when he said he knew her father well wasn’t referring to Brant —
he had meant the man in the painting.
“He’s… very handsome.”
Lorencia smiled faintly as her trembling lips pressed shut, her hand continuing to stroke the portrait.
“He’s really handsome.”
“The man in that painting,” Magus explained, “is Lord Cain of House de Glosston — the current head’s younger brother.”
‘If you resemble Cain…’
Lorencia finally understood what her mother had once said in a dream —
that she resembled Cain.
“Where is my father now? He’s alive, isn’t he?”
Magus didn’t answer. His silence told her everything.
Tears streamed endlessly down Lorencia’s cheeks. She wiped them with her hands and looked again at Cain’s portrait.
A drop of her tears soon fell onto the glass frame.
She had always believed Brant was her real father.
Because of that, she had thought her mother, Mushila, might have been violated by him —
that she herself had been born from that tragedy.
She had rejected her own birth for as long as she could remember.
Because of her mother’s love, Lorencia had endured everything —
Brant’s cruel abuse, Lady Anne and Illina’s torment, the contempt of everyone in House Heredian.
She bore it all in silence.
After all, she was an illegitimate child, born of sin —
she had believed she deserved to be treated that way.
Cold sweat formed on Lorencia’s forehead. Her heart pounded irregularly.
She clutched her chest.
“Lady Lorencia, are you all right?”
Teishar took out a handkerchief and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks, worry written on his face.
Watching her struggle to hold back her sorrow made his heart ache.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you truly all right?”
“Yes. Actually, I feel… relieved. I’m glad my real father isn’t Count Brant.”
Even as she spoke, her trembling wouldn’t stop. She bit the inside of her cheek until she could taste blood.
“And… I’m furious.”
The pain she’d suppressed all her life instantly turned to rage.
Her mother had never been Brant’s mistress.
She herself was not a bastard born of sin.
“Lord Magus, you said you knew my parents well, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“Then please… tell me about them.”
Magus hesitated, afraid she might break down crying — or that remembering would cause unbearable pain.
But Lorencia surprised him.
She accepted Cain as her father with calm composure and even said she was relieved Brant wasn’t.
Still, he could hear anger and despair trembling in her voice.
“Please tell me about my parents.”
Lorencia clutched the amethyst necklace hanging from her neck.
“It’s a long story,” Magus warned quietly, closing and reopening his eyes.
“Lady Mushila was the sixth child of the goddess Ella.
And Lord Cain was the captain of the Second Knights of the Imperial Palace of the Polroid Empire.”
Magus’s eyes clouded as he recalled events from twenty years ago.
“The two met at a royal banquet celebrating the end of the year.
It was love at first sight.”
Twenty Years Ago
Mushila pressed her throbbing temples. Her body felt heavy, like soaked cotton.
Every movement brought pain, as though she had been beaten.
When her eyes finally opened, she saw an unfamiliar ceiling — this wasn’t her room.
Her scattered thoughts slowly returned.
She cautiously lifted herself and looked around.
“Ha…”
Her heart pounded nervously. She had never been in a situation like this before.
“You’re already awake? You can rest more, Lady Mushila.”
A deep male voice reached her ears, one she knew all too well.
Goosebumps ran down her arms.
Swallowing hard, she turned her head — and there he was.
The man smiled softly, reached out, and pulled her against his chest.
“You must be exhausted after last night. Are you hurt anywhere?”
“…”
“I was truly happy that you came to me first, Lady Mushila.”
Last night… Mushila had drunk wine at the imperial banquet, as she always did.
‘They say a new liquor made from the whisker of a crystal whale has arrived.’
That was her favorite — liquor brewed with the whisker of a crystal whale.
Overjoyed to taste it again after so long, she had savored its flavor a little too much.
It was strong. Her body grew hot, and she had stepped out onto the terrace to cool down.
That was where she ran into Cain.
‘Lady Mushila.’
‘Sir Cain?’
Cain de Glosston — the second son of one of the Empire’s three great ducal houses.
He was far too beautiful to be a knight commander.
But beneath that gentle appearance hid a man whose swordsmanship was monstrous.
His refined face, large round eyes, sharp nose, and soft lips —
his curly hair made him look almost like a poodle.
Too cute, too pretty — she’d often wanted to touch it.
Because of that, she had avoided him, afraid he’d notice her growing affection.
‘Please don’t run away, Lady Mushila.’
She’d tried to leave the terrace, but Cain’s desperate voice stopped her.
‘Don’t avoid me.’
‘Sir Cain…’
‘I know you dislike me.’
He misunderstood. She didn’t hate him —
but she couldn’t tell him that. She knew better than anyone that they could never be together.
She was the daughter of the immortal goddess Ella, and he was a mortal man bound by time.
‘Then I won’t appear before you again.’
His trembling voice sounded on the verge of tears. She couldn’t take a step.
But then he added—
‘At least allow me to say goodbye, Lady Mushila.’
‘Goodbye?’
‘I plan to resign as captain and leave the Empire soon.’
Leave?
Her heart plummeted.
Was that why she’d done it — why she’d gone to him that night?
‘Don’t go… Sir Cain.’
As fragments of the previous night returned, Mushila’s cheeks burned crimson.
“Ah, my head…”
“Does it hurt? You did drink quite a bit. You must be thirsty — I’ll get some water.”
He released her gently and stood up.
Before she could stop herself, her eyes fell on his bare, toned torso —
and she immediately squeezed her eyes shut.
“Here, drink this,” Cain said kindly, handing her a glass.
She gulped it down, then hesitated before whispering,
“Can we… pretend last night never happened?”
It had been a night she wished could last forever — a dream where she felt like an ordinary woman.
But the world would not stop for her. Between them stood an unbridgeable wall.
“What do you mean?”
Cain’s face darkened.
“Let’s think of it as… a mistake.”
“A mistake?”
He tilted his lips in a crooked half-smile.
“So you’re saying you accidentally jumped on me?”
It wasn’t an accident.
She had simply lost to her own heart.
“Mistake or not, it doesn’t matter,” Cain said quietly. “From the moment I held you, I had resolved myself.”
“Resolved… to what?”
“To love you.”
Her face flushed bright red at his unwavering confession.
“Last night, we confirmed our feelings for each other — and we didn’t just hold hands.”
“No, not just that… ha-ha,” she muttered awkwardly, pretending not to remember.
But Cain shook his head.
“You did hold something — but it wasn’t just my hand.”
“What did I hold?!”
“You held me tightly, then gently… Don’t you remember?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Don’t say things like that so bluntly!”
Her mind was flooded with flashes of last night — the tangled sheets, the heat.
“Don’t you remember grabbing my wrist?”
“Oh… my wrist?” she stammered, realizing her mistake.
“You said that on purpose, didn’t you?” she accused.
Glancing nervously at his grin, she scanned the floor for her clothes —
but her dress was completely torn apart.
“What are you looking for?”
When she turned back, their eyes met again.
“You’re looking at the dress on the floor? You tore it yourself,” Cain said.
Yes — she remembered. She’d torn both her own gown and his uniform.
“Do you know how wild you were last night?” he teased.
“Stop talking…”
“I love you, Lady Mushila.”
Overwhelmed by embarrassment, Mushila covered her burning face with both hands.
