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CHAPTER 40……
From early morning, birds were singing outside the window.
In the old sayings of the Empire, it was considered a sign that you would meet someone important if a bird sang from the north.
“Yaaawn…”
Etisha stretched lazily, listening to the cheerful chirping. Perhaps because she had stayed up late last night singing in the cabin before returning to Wintel Castle, she felt more tired than usual.
While she was still wriggling under the blanket, there was a knock at the door, followed by a familiar voice.
“My lady, you’re awake, aren’t you? May I come in?”
It was her maid, Marin. Etisha gave her permission.
“Yes, Marin. Come in.”
Marin came in briskly, carrying a basin of wash water.
“The Duke isn’t here today either.”
“He’s always busy. I suppose he left early.”
As always, Cayenne seemed to have finished getting ready and left before Etisha even opened her eyes. Marin chatted away as she helped Etisha freshen up.
“The Duke is far too diligent. I wonder if he ever takes a day off. With the wedding so close, it’d be nice if he spent more time with you…”
“Don’t say that. He went to the party with me just yesterday, you know. He’s very considerate of me. Even on my last birthday, he made time for me.”
“Really? I didn’t know that happened.”
Marin carefully combed through Etisha’s long hair, making sure there were no tangles, her movements gentle and precise.
“It’s just… this is the North. You’ve come a long way from the capital, and the Duke is the only person you can really rely on. I think it’d be nice if he took extra good care of you.”
Her small, dark eyes sparkled like those of a squirrel. Maybe because she too had left the capital, Marin seemed to be especially fond of Etisha.
Etisha found Marin’s concern very endearing.
“Marin, thank you… but you’re wrong.”
“Huh?”
“The Duke isn’t the only one I can rely on.”
As Marin blinked in surprise, Etisha gently took the comb from her hand.
“Uh, my lady?”
Etisha began combing Marin’s soft brown hair instead.
“I have you, don’t I? You might not know it, but you’re a great source of comfort to me. And… I also have Mother. You don’t know how well Lady Cyrileze takes care of me.”
“M-me? And… the madam? But she’s scary…”
Marin flustered, unable to take the comb back, her words tumbling out in confusion—like a squirrel dropping a precious acorn it had been saving. Etisha couldn’t hold back a laugh.
“That’s only because you don’t know her well yet. She’s truly a good person.”
Marin just stared blankly at her. Something about Etisha felt different from yesterday, though Marin couldn’t tell what had changed.
Then Etisha smiled faintly and added in a whisper,
“And I also have myself.”
“…?”
“I’ve realized I can be my own source of strength too.”
Etisha’s thoughts drifted back to the previous night, when she had sung her heart out. Just remembering it felt like soaking in warm bathwater, her whole body buoyed up by the memory.
“All this time, I kept thinking I wanted to understand the Duke… but maybe I need to understand myself first.”
She handed the comb back to Marin. Marin’s hair was now neatly in place.
Marin was just about to resume combing Etisha’s hair when she suddenly exclaimed,
“My lady! There’s no mistress in the world who combs her maid’s hair! You startled me.”
“What’s the harm? It’s just the two of us here.”
“Still! My heart’s racing now, I can’t work like this!”
“Hm?”
Marin clutched the comb tightly in her small hands, her cheeks faintly flushed. She was just regaining her composure when a polite knock sounded at the door.
Knock, knock.
“Who could that be…?”
Etisha glanced at Marin, who shook her head to show she didn’t know either.
“Lady Etisha. This is Head Maid Gertha. I have a message from the madam.”
“From Mother? Please, come in.”
Gertha entered and bowed deeply. Unlike the squirrel-like Marin, she was precise and composed.
“Raise your head. What did Mother say?”
“Yes, my lady. The madam says the care of the wedding dress is complete. She asks if you would like to try it on today.”
“The wedding dress…”
“It is an heirloom passed down in the Wintel family for generations.”
Etisha nodded calmly.
“I understand. Please tell Mother I will come shortly.”
“Yes, my lady. We’ll be ready to receive you at the Snow Castle.”
With that, Gertha left. Etisha stared at the closed door, letting out a quiet breath.
A wedding dress…
She still hadn’t gotten used to the idea of wearing a custom dress made by a hired designer—yet now she was to try on the Wintel family’s heirloom gown. The thought alone was overwhelming.
And the Snow Castle… I’ve never been there before.
When she first arrived at Wintel Castle, Cayenne had explained:
The main castle stood in the center. To the east was the Snow Castle, to the west the Sword Castle. The main castle was for the Duke and Duchess, the Snow Castle for the previous duke and duchess, and the Sword Castle for the heir apparent.
I wonder what it’s like.
In her mind, she pictured a place pure and white as its name suggested, surely refined and noble if Lady Cyrileze lived there.
“Marin, let’s finish getting ready. Mother will be waiting.”
“Yes, my lady!”
Marin worked with unusual speed and care.
Ahh, my lady in a wedding dress… I wish I could see it! If only she’d take me along…
Sadly, Marin could not go with her. Gertha had ordered that a maid familiar with the Snow Castle guide Etisha instead. Though Marin knew the layout of the main castle, she couldn’t navigate the Snow Castle.
“This way, Lady Etisha.”
Stepping out into the manor grounds, Etisha looked east. The rising sun was so bright she had to shield her eyes.
“So this is the Snow Castle…”
It was exactly as she imagined—pure white, standing in stark contrast to the dark main castle. She walked through the open gates, taking in the interior: diamond-shaped windows, long white curtains, a few antique paintings reflecting Lady Cyrileze’s taste, and a wide wine-colored carpet running the length of the floor.
Etisha was captivated at first sight.
Wow…
Then a stray thought crossed her mind.
If I were truly the Duchess of Wintel, one day I would have lived here…
Like Lady Cyrileze… If she were truly the duchess…
Gasp.
She quickly shook her head.
What am I thinking?
She had played the role of the false duchess well so far—so why was she suddenly thinking like this?
Is it because I’m excited about wearing the Wintel wedding dress?
She lightly clenched her hands, as if to snap herself back to her senses. Life in the North had been good for her—she was regaining her old love for singing—and perhaps that had made her heart too soft.
Get it together. I’m a fake. I’ll be gone soon. I can’t ever forget that.
Taking a steadying breath, she climbed the stairs.
Upstairs was a storage room for heirlooms: swords and shields, magical tools, jewels, and the family genealogy—everything securely stored behind glass walls.
“Ah, there you are, my dear. Come in.”
From the innermost room, where golden pillars stood, came Lady Cyrileze’s voice. As Etisha approached, her guide discreetly bowed and left.
“Mother, you called for me?”
“Yes. Gertha must have told you—the wedding dress is ready. With the wedding only two weeks away, we must try it on.”
“Yes.”
Etisha stepped inside. Hanging high on the wall were two garments: a pure white wedding dress, and a pitch-black wedding uniform.
…!
Never in her life had she seen a dress so beautiful. The sheer fabric shimmered endlessly, as if sprinkled with jewels, like the wings of a fairy.
She stood there, gazing at it in a daze, until Lady Cyrileze gently urged her forward.
“Go on, try it on.”
“….”
“Come now.”
At her gesture, Gertha took the dress down and helped Etisha change with practiced precision.
Even as she dressed, Etisha felt dazed. The perfection of the gown was intoxicating.
“Ah, flawless. The dress has finally found its owner. Don’t you think so, Gertha?”
“Yes, my lady. It’s as if Lady Etisha was born to wear it.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“She could wear it every day for the rest of her life.”
“Indeed.”
The more pleased Lady Cyrileze became, the more Etisha’s heart tipped—not toward delight, but toward the weight of falsehood.
She felt she could neither smile nor cry.
“Um… Mother.”
Etisha spoke cautiously.
“This wedding dress—it’s the Wintel family heirloom, isn’t it?”
“Yes. A precious piece with a long history. Only Duchesses of Wintel have ever worn it. There’s even a legend tied to it.”
“I see… Then every Duchess of Wintel has worn this on her wedding day.”
Hearing that confirmed once again from Lady Cyrileze made Etisha’s heart grow heavier.
Could she—an impostor—really wear something so precious?
