Chapter 14
I happened to return to the lord’s manor today.
Before passing through the castle gate, I looked through the carriage window and saw the castle walls, as always, smeared with filthy muck. A large graffiti reading “Red-Haired Harlot” caught my eye as well.
“…They’re at it again. I should have them plaster it with mud,” Katarina said, glancing at me.
“Leave it be. It’ll wash off when it rains anyway.”
That’s also how the villagers vent their frustrations. Hah, maybe I should even erect a statue of myself in the central square. It’d be satisfying for them to throw filth at something that looks like me.
“Um… there are also many villagers who like you, Lady Alisa.”
“You mean the manor maids? They’re called collaborators by the invading country because of me, so what? I’m just grateful they didn’t quit even knowing who I am.”
The maids hadn’t quit despite knowing I was the Viscountess of Lasantia. For them, the manor’s annex offered a comfortable and precious home compared to the harsh conditions of the tent village they came from. Their wages were double what they would earn elsewhere, and most importantly, the manor provided the children with a secure haven.
Honestly, I was thankful.
From the outside, the manor looked filthy, but thanks to them staying here, the inside remained peaceful. Watching the children run joyfully across the lawn had, over time, become one of my hobbies.
The carriage I rode in stopped in front of the main building’s corridor. I spotted one of my cherished children lingering by the door.
I got out and ran straight to them, hugging them tightly.
“Alyona! Have you been doing well while I was away?”
“…….”
Strange. Normally, Alyona would plant a kiss on my cheek and chatter “Lord, Lord!”
Today, she avoided my gaze. She didn’t hug me back and stood stiffly before taking a step backward.
“What’s wrong? Alyona, what happened?”
My heart sank. The child glared at me with sharp eyes, tears glistening at the edges.
“Did Lord… really kill our dad?”
“…Huh?”
“That’s what everyone says. They say everyone died because of the bomb made by the lord. Dad died in the war, and our house burned down.”
Alyona was nine years old.
By the time she entered school, she would naturally hear things. She couldn’t help but learn the truth once she began interacting with children outside the manor.
Feeling betrayed by someone you once trusted—the lord of the manor—was almost a rite of passage for children of the maids. I wished Alyona wouldn’t have to go through it, but I knew that was selfish.
Strictly speaking, I had never killed anyone. I didn’t participate in the Dvorca war.
I had handled guns and blades often, but only for hunting or training in swordplay. I entered military school after the war ended, where I trained in handling Lasantium bombs.
The first time I witnessed their explosive power on the barren western wasteland, I couldn’t sleep for days. These weren’t objects meant to go off where people lived.
Yes. There was a truth bigger than the fact that I hadn’t killed anyone.
Alyona’s father had died on the battlefield, her house had turned to ashes, and my family’s ambition lay behind it all.
Whenever thunder and lightning struck, mimicking violent explosions, the children here would collapse to the ground and cry bitterly.
“I see… so that’s what you heard.”
“Lord… please say it’s not true. Can’t you just say it once, that it’s not true? Then I’ll believe you. You wouldn’t do something like that… would you? Right?”
Not true. I didn’t do it.
I once told my mother to stop making bombs to sell, and she slapped me sharply. That incident even prevented me from inheriting the lordship of Lasant.
How could I possibly argue against that?
“Alyona, listen carefully.”
“Lord… you didn’t, right? You’re not a soldier.”
“It’s true that your father died because of the family I was born into.”
“…Boohoo.”
“I can’t even bring myself to say I’m sorry. The only thing I can tell you is this: now you should treat me as if I don’t exist, like the other kids living in this manor.”
Alyona had grown. The soil for seeds of hatred and contempt had been laid, and now they were bound to sprout.
I left the sobbing Alyona behind and went up to my office.
Sir Julio, who had managed the estate in my absence, was waiting.
“Ah, Lord! You’ve returned!”
Sebastian Julio, a retired colonel, had once been the commander of the Blansk garrison.
A rare soldier who treated the Blansk people kindly and managed the occupying forces diligently, he requested retirement suddenly after the war and was granted a fief and knighthood in a corner of Blansk.
A fine steward, though his longing for retirement was a bit extreme.
“Sebastian, was everything fine while I was away?”
“Nothing much in Blansk, but there is a little matter regarding you, Lord.”
“What matter?”
“…A portrait of your fiancé has arrived.”
Sir Julio pointed to a frame in the corner of the office.
It was a faded, life-sized upper-body portrait.
So young. Probably around sixteen or seventeen.
I finally understood what people meant by “angelically beautiful.” Silver-white hair, delicate as fine threads; violet eyes like meticulously cut amethysts. Skin soft and bright as early spring magnolia petals.
His features were exquisite and orderly. Slightly prominent brow bones and a sharp nose resembled King Madiloff.
The mysterious and pure aura probably came from his mother, the concubine Nadia.
Most striking of all were his eyes. They seemed genuinely pure. That worried me the most. Someone like me shouldn’t taint those eyes.
“…Why does he look so young? Doesn’t even seem of age. Makes me feel guilty.”
“I was told it was painted during his time at the Yorka palace. He’s twenty-one now, so he must look more grown than this.”
Sir Julio answered, his gaze fixed more on the painting than on me.
He’s eight years younger than me. Eight years is not a short gap for the first half of life. Could we even recognize each other as partners? Even with his coming-of-age ceremony passed, he still looks boyish. Could we manage as a married couple?
Could we fulfill marital duties? I couldn’t even imagine, just from the portrait.
Would he even accept me as his wife? I was the heir of the family that devastated his country. He’d come to me forcibly.
Surely, he’d want to flee, to shed everything and run.
Why did I propose this marriage to the king in the first place? I want to hit my past self hard.
“Lord, my wife is seven years older than me. I married her as soon as I turned twenty, and thirty years later, there are no problems.”
“Oh, your wife is older too.”
“…He’ll like it.”
“Huh? What?”
“The people of Blansk will like it. The Dvorcans still revere the fleeing royal family. He is a legitimate prince, and you’re going to be his wife… maybe the filth thrown at the walls will decrease a little.”
Sir Julio tried to highlight a positive side to my marriage while staring at the portrait. I laughed. Could he really be so captivated by a single painting?
“So, it’s to gain favor with the people using the prince-husband, huh? Hah, will they hate the witch who devours her young husband even more?”
“Nobody would dare make such remarks to the future Viscountess. To the Dvorcans, she’s the queen’s equivalent, the wife of their ruler.”
Queen-equivalent to a hostage prince’s wife? Preposterous.
I ignored Julio’s words and stared at the prince’s eyes in the portrait.
A memory surfaced—someone with similar eyes I had seen long ago.
A tiny girl living in a remote cabin in the forest.
“Sir, these violet eyes…”
“Yes, Lord.”
“I haven’t seen this in Levanteia. Are they common in Dvorca?”
“No, they aren’t. Violet eyes are said to appear once in a thousand years. When Nadia was a dancer, she wore a veil, and King Madiloff supposedly fell for her eyes alone. That’s how rare they are.”
“I see.”
“Why do you ask? Have you seen such violet eyes before?”
“They reminded me of someone I knew. But there’s no law saying they can’t appear twice in a thousand years.”
The world is vast, and people are countless.
“Ah, Lord. When and where is the wedding? We need to prepare at the manor too.”
“At the Yorka palace. The third Saturday of July. The governor’s office will handle preparations, so don’t worry.”
“Eek. That’s so soon!”
“What can we do? The treaty even specifies the wedding date.”
I smiled at Julio, who looked bewildered.
The marriage, once an abstract idea, now felt a bit lighter on my shoulders. I’m sure the Dvorcans will accept him willingly.
This prince, flawless in every way.
I hope he’s a good person. Even without real power, a virtuous ruler would be reassuring just by existing.
“Ah, Lord. There’s a rumor that Nadia, his mother, is from Blansk.”
Julio shared this new fact.
“Really? The prince’s mother?”
“Yes. I got curious and investigated; she was born and raised here.”
“Not a bad coincidence. At least there’s something to talk about with the prince.”
Suddenly, my left side itched.
I walked to the window and looked outside. Dark clouds were approaching. Sure enough, it looked like rain was coming.
