Chapter 6
Who are you going to give your handkerchief to at the hunting tournament?”
“Why, of course, to His Grace, Grand Duke Cretine! If I could catch his eye even just like that, I could die without regret!”
While Jessica was choosing her clothes, Lucy sat on the sofa, glancing idly around. Just then, a group of women burst into the fitting room, giggling loudly.
‘Talking about dying just for a man’s glance… must be nice to have such carefree worries.’
In her previous, all-too-short life, Lucy had simply dreamed of an ordinary, peaceful existence like everyone else. She couldn’t relate at all to a woman so casually speaking of death. She swallowed a bitter smile.
“Come to think of it, what will you do about your hand? It’s supposed to be a handkerchief for the Duke, after all.”
“Handkerchief? What are you talking about? And why would I give him one?”
Jessica looked at Lucy as if she had suddenly remembered something, and Lucy tilted her head.
“Well, obviously because you’re the Duke’s fiancée! And since you’re going to the hunting tournament as his partner, isn’t it only natural?”
Only then did a familiar scene pop into Lucy’s mind—one she’d read about in novels. When a hunting tournament began, there was always that moment when the heroine gave the hero a handkerchief to show her affection.
‘But that’s between the hero and heroine. I’m already losing my mind over having to go there with that old Duke, and now I’m supposed to hand him a handkerchief too?!’
The more she thought about it, the more irritated she became, and her words came out sharp.
“I’m not giving him one. If you want to, be my guest.”
That evening, Anna came to Lucy’s room, looking distressed.
“Oh, my lady, what a shame about your hand… this would have been the perfect chance to show off your embroidery skills.”
“Embroidery? What are you talking about?”
“There’s a custom at the hunting tournament—young ladies give participants handkerchiefs embroidered with their wishes for victory. Shouldn’t you give one to the Duke?”
Seeing Lucy’s deep frown, Anna’s voice grew smaller.
“I don’t know how to embroider, and I’m certainly not giving him a handkerchief.”
“But, my lady… actually, the Baron…”
Anna trailed off and handed Lucy a pale ivory silk handkerchief.
“The Baron ordered that embroidery be put on this.”
Lucy looked down at her bandaged hand. Even if she could embroider, she’d injured her right hand—making it impossible.
“Shall I try embroidering it for you?”
A little later, Lucy sat watching Anna at work.
“Anna… what exactly are you embroidering?”
It was hard to tell what the design was meant to be.
“The Vallon family crest is a black hawk. This part is the legs, and here are the wings!”
Anna pointed and explained enthusiastically.
“…Right.”
No matter how Lucy squinted, the result looked less like a hawk and more like some crow-shaped monster.
That night, Anna stayed up late in Lucy’s room, sweating as she embroidered the black hawk in one corner of the handkerchief.
On the day of the tournament, before the sun was even up, two maids barged in to wash and dress Lucy.
“My lady, you’re so lucky! Not just anyone gets to attend the imperial hunting tournament. You’ll be the most beautiful there.”
As they combed her hair, one maid giggled.
“You’ll get to see Grand Duke Cretine, the most handsome man in the empire. I’m jealous.”
Lucy honestly couldn’t tell whether they were being sincere or sarcastic.
“Who is this Cretine person that everyone’s making such a fuss about?”
She’d heard the name before, even at the fitting room. It rolled off the tongue in a way that made her wonder if he might be a character from the novel she’d read.
“Oh! You’ve lost your memory, haven’t you…”
Even in the fragments of Lucy’s memories, there was nothing about him.
“He’s famous as the most handsome man in the empire. You can find his portraits sold in the market, and bards sing poems of his exploits.”
The maid paused mid-bun, staring dreamily into the air. She was clearly smitten.
‘If this really is a novel world, then the male lead is probably the most handsome. Could he be the male lead?’
Lucy thought of Becky of Victory.
‘In that story, the male lead was the Crown Prince… and there were so many men around the heroine that I can’t even remember them all.’
She recalled her former fiancé, Edwin. By objective standards, he was also very handsome. Could he have been the novel’s male lead?
Her curiosity only deepened.
“Ohhh! My lady, you are so dazzling today, I think I might go blind! Hahaha!”
The Duke’s jaw practically dropped at Lucy’s ornate appearance. She grimaced unconsciously.
Beside him stood Jessica, in an even more extravagant dress and heavy makeup.
‘Like a peacock.’
Not that Lucy meant it as a compliment—the flashy look was so overdone it just seemed tacky.
“My lady!”
While Lucy was mentally critiquing Jessica’s look, Anna hurried over and discreetly pressed the handkerchief into her palm.
“Thanks…” Lucy trailed off as she stared at the odd bird embroidered on it. Before she could hide it, the Duke sidled right up to her, and she quickly shoved it behind her back.
“Lucy, I shall hunt a great wild wolf for you today! Hahaha.”
He hooked her left hand onto his arm and slowly stroked the back of her hand. Lucy resisted the urge to shudder, biting her lip.
“Hahaha, I’m sure Your Grace will win the tournament today. My two daughters will be cheering for you!”
Baron Diallo sent them off with more shameless flattery. Lucy frowned deeply as she climbed into the carriage with the Duke.
At the hunting grounds, Lucy felt like she’d stumbled into a beauty contest. Noblewomen in glittering gowns and jewels flaunted their looks.
Following the Duke toward his private tent, she overheard nearby nobles whispering.
“So the rumors are true. Those are the Diallo girls. I hear Lucy Diallo agreed to become the Duke’s mistress.”
“Maybe that greedy Baron is trying to marry both daughters off to him.”
Their gossip soon shifted to another topic—the Emperor’s illegitimate son, the Fourth Prince—whose existence had only been rumor until now.
One tent, crowded with women, stood out among the rows set up in the clearing near the forest.
Lucy, about to enter the Duke’s tent, turned her head curiously.
‘When did Jessica get over there?’
Sure enough, Jessica was standing at the front of that tent, clutching a handkerchief and peering inside.
‘If Jessica’s that worked up, it must be some important nobleman.’
Lucy smirked and turned away—only to freeze. A very familiar figure stood in the distance.
“Edwin?”
It was him—her former fiancé.
He was chatting with others as he walked past. Almost without realizing it, Lucy began moving toward him.
“Lucy? Where are you going all of a sudden?”
The Duke’s voice rang from behind, but she kept walking until his back was almost within arm’s reach.
“Your Highness! There you are—I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
A woman approached from the opposite side, beaming as she clasped Edwin’s hand. Lucy stopped dead.
‘Your Highness? Did she just call Edwin… Your Highness? What on earth is going on?’
Feeling dazed, she turned away. She couldn’t meet him now.
‘And if I did… then what? Get a grip. I’m not Lucy!’
“Lucy, are you all right? You look pale.”
The Duke peered at her with concern.
“Oh… I just need to find the restroom, but I couldn’t see where it was.”
“Ah! Forgive me for my lack of consideration, my lady! Hahaha.”
He called for an attendant to escort her. But halfway there, Lucy suddenly turned—heading quickly in the direction Edwin had gone.
