Chapter 3
“No! That—that’s mine!”
Josephina bolted upright, her chair screeching against the floor. Her voice was thin, bordering on a shriek, and her face had drained of all color, leaving her features a stark, petrified mask.
I tilted my head, offering her a look of studied innocence, as if her sudden outburst were the most baffling thing in the world. “Is something the matter, Sister?”
“No, it’s just… it was specially crafted in the West, so…”
“I see. You there,” I said, gesturing to the maid. “Pour a fresh glass of the same wine for my sister as well.”
“Pardon? Ah… yes, My Lady.” The maid stammered, her expression uneasy as she darted a furtive glance toward Josephina. After a tense moment of silent communication, she placed a clean glass in front of Josephina and filled it with the same amber liquid she had poured for me.
“If it’s delicious enough to make Pipi this restless, I’m getting curious myself,” Edwin interjected with a playful smirk. “Pour a glass for me too.”
Josephina forced a brittle, bitter smile.
“Actually, take this one,” I said, rising from my seat. Before Emily could even think about swapping the glasses back, I slid my own toward the Marquis, placing it firmly within Edwin’s reach.
Edwin chuckled, his fingers curling around the stem of the glass. He seemed to find Josephina’s obvious distress charming, misinterpreting her panic as nothing more than a cute display of possessiveness.
“It’s orange,” he noted, peering into the depths of the wine.
“Ah… yes…” Josephina’s voice trailed off. She looked like a ghost.
“I’ll enjoy it,” Edwin added with a satisfied grin as I settled back into my chair. His smugness only deepened the foul taste in my mouth.
Forcing a smile, I turned my attention to Leonhardt, eager to shift the conversation. I asked him about the birthday gift he had mentioned earlier. “I’m quite curious about your gift, Your Highness. Knowing it’s the same for both of us makes me even more expectant.”
“You won’t be disappointed,” he replied, his eyes meeting mine with a gentle warmth. “It is a truly rare treasure.”
I found myself staring at him longer than intended. Leonhardt cleared his throat and looked away first, his hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear—a redundant gesture, as not a single lock was out of place. It was a tell-tale sign of his unease.
Just then, an aide leaned in to whisper in his ear. Leonhardt listened intently, then beamed. “Ah, it seems the gifts have arrived.”
I braced myself. The farce I had endured in my previous life was about to repeat itself.
Two of Leonhardt’s subordinates stood at the entrance of the dining room, each holding a large, rectangular object draped in heavy black cloth.
“My word, I am dying to see what His Highness has prepared,” my mother exclaimed. “But if you don’t mind, shall we move on to dessert before the unveiling?”
“That sounds wonderful,” Leonhardt agreed.
The servants moved with practiced efficiency, clearing the plates. The wine glasses remained on the table as bowls of chilled sherbet were set down.
“Reina, you barely touched your dinner, yet you’re eating your sherbet. I was worried you were feeling unwell. I’m so relieved,” Josephina said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.
“Thank you for your concern, Sister,” I replied.
Despite her words, her eyes kept darting back to the Grand Duke’s wine glass. Seeing her so on edge only solidified my conviction: she had spiked that wine with Euros. There was no other reason for her to be this preoccupied with my well-being.
Once everyone had lowered their spoons, Leonhardt signaled his aides. The two rectangular frames were brought forward.
“Oh, heavens!”
As the black cloths were whipped away, a collective gasp echoed through the room. My mother’s near-shriek of admiration was exactly as I remembered it—predictable and grating.
“Devinne’s work!” Josephina breathed.
“Precisely, Pipi,” Leonhardt said.
“Your Highness… our Pipi has wanted these for so long, but they were impossible to find. How did you…?” Marquis Elvine’s voice trailed off in genuine shock. He had spent years trying to procure these for his biological daughter. He was a man who would pluck the stars from the sky for Josephina; the only things he hadn’t been able to give her were the works of Devinne.
Devinne was a once-in-a-millennium genius. People lined up to buy anything he touched; even his unpainted canvases were sold at auction years in advance. Despite the Elvine family’s immense wealth and military might, they were forced to wait in line like everyone else. Devinne was eccentric, valuing his artistic integrity and chronological order far more than gold.
“The Descent of the Angel and The Manifestation of Hell!” my adoptive mother cried out, clapping her hands in delight.
One canvas depicted a radiant scene: celestial light pouring onto the earth as an angel descended in glory. The other, however, was chilling. It was a visceral portrayal of the five great sins—Ignorance, Pride, Envy, Greed, and Betrayal—rendered with haunting precision. Both frames were nearly the size of a grown man.
Unlike the others, I felt no awe.
“Pipi, I prepared The Descent of the Angel for you,” Leonhardt said softly.
“Thank you, Leon! I’m so happy!”
“And for Lady Reina,” he continued, turning to me, “I give you The Manifestation of Hell.”
A cold weight settled in my chest. Even if it was a masterpiece, receiving such an ill-omened gift was an insult. In my past life, I had accepted it out of obligation. Not this time.
“Your Highness, I am deeply honored,” I said, my voice steady and firm, “but I must decline.”
“Hm?” Leonhardt’s brow furrowed.
“Today is my sister’s day. It would be unseemly for me to receive a gift of equal stature. It is a matter of etiquette.”
“Ah, I see… but this is a Devinne…”
“Your thoughtfulness is gift enough, Your Highness,” I insisted.
“I… well, I cannot force you, then.” Leonhardt looked oddly flustered, yet there was a flicker of something like relief or pleasure in his eyes.
“However,” I added, “since you went to such great lengths to acquire them, why not gift both to my sister?”
“Oh? Well, I only need one…” Josephina began, but I cut her off.
“They are a set, and they come from His Highness. You must not refuse. To possess two national treasures at once—congratulations, Sister.”
“Ah… yes…” Josephina looked utterly bewildered. She was so rattled that she missed her mouth with her spoon, a dollop of sherbet landing on her cheek.
“Why are you eating so messily?” Edwin asked, his voice softening. He reached out with a napkin and gently wiped her face.
“Thank you,” she whispered, blushing as she touched the spot he had cleaned. Edwin gave her a radiant smile.
I watched them, feeling a strange sense of detachment. In my previous life, this sight would have sent me into a spiral of tears and desperate pleas for attention. I remembered the arguments—me begging for a shred of his affection, and him snapping back: “Think of Pipi! Don’t be so selfish! She suffered while you lived like royalty!”
The memory made the present scene even more nauseating. I caught Josephina’s eye. She smiled at me with that same innocent, vacant expression. She seemed to have forgotten all about the drugged wine in her excitement over the paintings.
I used to hate that innocence. I used to feel like a thief who had stolen her life. But not anymore. Not after she took everything from me and watched me die.
“We have a gift for you as well, Pipi,” my adoptive parents said, rising from their seats.
I knew exactly what was coming. I couldn’t stomach another moment of this.
“Father, I am terribly sorry,” I interrupted, my voice strained. “I’m feeling quite nauseous all of a sudden. I think I need to lie down. I don’t want to ruin this wonderful occasion.”
“Now, Reina,” my father chided playfully, gesturing for me to sit. “We aren’t finished yet. It won’t take long. Stay a while longer.”
I’m so disappointed in you, he would say later. Had he ever truly loved me? No. I was a placeholder. A substitute. The realization that every “affectionate” gesture had been a lie was a bitter pill I had already swallowed once.
“Happy birthday, my beloved daughter,” the Marquis said, pulling a small wooden box from his coat and handing it to Josephina.
“What is this?”
“Don’t ask us. Open it,” my mother urged.
Josephina took a shaky breath and opened the lid. Her eyes widened, and then they filled with tears. “Oh… this is too much.”
“It is not too much,” her father said firmly. “We intend to name you our successor, Pipi. You shall be the next Marchioness Elvine.”
“Yes! Oh, yes! I want to be the Young Marchioness!”
In the past, I had swallowed my envy, telling myself it was fine because I would be the Crown Princess. But the irony was sharp—I was the one currently managing the family’s vast interests and generating their wealth. Josephina was being handed a crown she hadn’t earned.
“Thank you, Papa. Thank you, Mama,” she sobbed.
Edwin was the first to offer a handkerchief, tenderly dabbing her eyes. Leonhardt, who had been reaching for his own, quickly tucked his away and offered a forced smile.
“Congratulations, Pipi. It suits you.”
“You will be the pride of the Elvine house,” Leonhardt added.
I rubbed my stomach. I had eaten nothing but a few greens and a melting sherbet. My hunger was gnawing at me, but the blatant disregard from my “family” hurt more.
Josephina turned her tear-streaked face toward me. “Are you truly okay with this, Reina? With me becoming the successor?”
I picked up my wine glass, my expression bored. “Of course. It suits you perfectly. I’m sure you’ll be a great pillar for the Empire as a Marchioness.”
Go ahead, be a Marchioness, I thought. I’m already of a higher rank than you’ll ever be.
The sarcasm hit its mark. Josephina’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, a scowl ghosting over her features before she smoothed it back into a mask of humility.
“By the way, Edwin,” I said, using his name with a calculated intimacy that I knew would grate on Josephina. “You promised to drink a toast for my birthday. You haven’t touched it yet, and I’m starting to feel neglected. Won’t you drink it now? For me?”
Edwin shrugged, his fingers tightening around the orange-tinted glass. “If that’s all it takes to make you happy.”
He lifted the glass to his lips.
