Chapter 4
I Am Sola Dicus
“My daughter. I knew this color would suit you best.”
Despite my ridiculous appearance, Aileen—leaning back against the bed—looked serene and elegant.
“You used to sneak and wear Jerop’s clothes all the time. You said you hated dresses… you’ve grown up.”
“How’s your health?”
I hurried over, grabbed her hand, and sat by her side.
“I’ve gotten much better. The coughing has completely stopped.”
Seeing her gentle smile put me a little at ease.
“You’re more worried about yourself than me, aren’t you? You’re already seventeen, but your debutante is so late.”
Seventeen, not seven.
Before I lost consciousness, she had clearly believed me to be seven-year-old Sola.
At her words, Jerop’s usually expressionless eyes widened slightly.
“I wanted to prepare it properly for you…”
If that really happened, I could only imagine the mess afterward. A shiver ran down my spine.
“I’ll take care of it.”
Jerop gripped her free hand tightly as he replied. His face was impassive, but his eyes brimmed with worry.
He can make a face like that?
“Our daughter will be the prettiest of them all. Right, Jerop?”
“…Mm.”
For once, Jerop—normally quick to answer—was tongue-tied.
“I’d better.”
There was bite to his tone. I could almost hear the unspoken ‘If I don’t, you’ll regret it.’
“I’ll do my best. Even… to make her the prettiest.”
I wasn’t sure if effort could match Sola’s famed beauty—said to be the greatest in the Empire.
Jerop picked up a towel from the basin, wrung it out, and expertly wiped the sweat from Aileen’s forehead. Looking refreshed, she gently cupped her son’s cheek.
The two really did look so much alike. Knowing the fate awaiting this beautiful mother and son made my chest ache.
“Oh dear, your hair’s a mess. Come here. I wonder who would want to take in such a little tomboy.”
Her pale, slender fingers slipped through my disheveled brown hair, gathering it into one neat bundle. It had been a long time since anyone had done my hair. She moved with practiced ease.
“I wonder if the Duke will approve of your groom. Even if he’s from the royal family, he may not be pleased.”
She chuckled softly, looking delighted. Jerop, despite his dislike of the royal family, actually nodded obediently to his mother’s words.
“The late—”
Jerop gripped my sleeve tightly before I could finish my slip.
“Father treasured me dearly…”
Everyone already called Jerop Dicus the Duke. A title only inherited upon the previous duke’s absence—meaning Aileen’s husband was already dead.
Aileen’s body and heart were both ailing.
Mistaking me for Sola, confusing my age, failing to recognize people… she had drifted far from the flow of time.
If she knew what the royal family had done to her husband, son, and daughter, she would never say such things.
A bitter taste filled my mouth. I swallowed down the acrid truth that sat on my tongue.
“Come to think of it, our Sola once said she would marry her brother. Is that still the case?”
She said it so naturally, as if tangled family trees were nothing.
“No. I only wish my brother happiness.”
A favorite was just a favorite.
Even in a dark, angsty adult romance, that was a bit much. I wished for him to meet a good woman and be happy. Having met him myself, I realized—aside from his face—he was not my type at all. I’d gladly yield him to another fine lady.
“You look nice with it neatly tied.”
She held up a mirror. I’d been seeing my reflection a lot today.
Pigtails?
For someone I’d thought was sickly, Aileen had incredible strength. I was happy her health had returned, but she tied my hair so tightly that the corners of my eyes lifted sharply. I could barely blink. When I tried to smile, my scalp stung. At this rate, my hair might fall out.
“Th-thank you, Mother.”
I forced a smile—only to lock eyes with Jerop. He quickly turned his head. When I kept staring, he glanced back at me from the corner of his eye.
Puzzled by his strange behavior, I tilted my head. The ribbons tied on either side swayed, brushing my cheeks. Jerop pulled out a handkerchief, covered his mouth, and trembled.
“Hmph… ahem.”
He cleared his throat.
“I’ll be going ahead, Mother.”
And then, he hurriedly left.
“Could he be unwell? He seemed to be coughing.”
In the original story, it was only said that he died young. The illness was never named. If it were contagious, surely they wouldn’t let the heir to the dukedom near her.
“That’s not it.”
Aileen adjusted the ends of my neatly tied hair and smiled brightly.
“Stay close as brother and sister forever.”
I had many things I wanted to say, but for her sake, I simply nodded.
Jerop’s younger brother, Sola’s elder brother. The second son of House Dicus.
“Hello. I’m Cherui Dicus.”
He greeted me with a smile. If not for their different hair and eye colors, I wouldn’t have guessed he and Jerop were brothers—they were complete opposites.
Jerop’s hair was silky and smooth; Cherui’s was curly and fluffy.
Ice and cotton candy.
Jerop wore a uniform buttoned up to his throat; Cherui’s shirt hung open and relaxed.
“Hello. I’ll be looking after Sola Dicus.”
As I replied, I searched my memory.
How was Cherui in the original story again?
[Wow, what a cushy life. If you’re going to live like that, at least take your brother’s side.]
[Keeping your mouth shut there? You call that neutral? Silence isn’t neutrality.]
I remembered leaving plenty of comments like that. To me, Cherui was more of a villain than Jerop. He claimed to stay “neutral” to the end, siding with no one. But silence was never true neutrality.
Even when House Dicus fell due to treason, he secured his own comfortable retirement—and even married a brilliant, beautiful count’s daughter.
In short, he was the type who had a reputation for kindness and being “good-natured,” but was easily used by others, and to his allies, infuriatingly useless.
“Staring like that makes me uncomfortable.”
“Sorry?”
Apparently, I’d been staring without realizing it.
“I already have a fiancée, you know.”
Did he think I’d fallen for him? The smug look on his face was something to behold.
Your head’s full of flowers, isn’t it.
“Blushing? Cute.”
He leaned in to whisper in my ear, making sure Jerop couldn’t hear. His warm breath brushed my skin. Unfortunately, we were sitting together on a long sofa, which made this possible.
Doesn’t this room have a mirror?
To put it nicely, he was “cute”—with chubby cheeks and a plump figure.
To put it honestly, aside from the hair, he looked nothing like Jerop.
I understood why he didn’t have an illustration in the original. Without an introduction, I’d have thought he was an impostor. I had two eyes; I could see the truth.
Why would I be interested in you when there’s a man who looks like a sculpture right beside me?
“Drink.”
The fragrant tea brought in just then calmed my irritation. As expected of the Duke’s household, it smelled wonderful.
Jerop took a sip, set down his cup, and his expression darkened ever so slightly. He never touched the milk or sugar.
“I plan to hold Sola’s debutante.”
“Yes, brother!”
He answered so loudly my ears rang.
“How can I help? Leave it to me!”
Pounding his chest with his fist, Cherui radiated enthusiasm!—so much so, it was overwhelming.
“Tell me. Who are you?”
The Duke had stepped out for a moment, and Cherui took the chance to pounce.
“I am Sola Dicus.”
“That can’t be true.”
“Sola Dicus.”
“No…”
“Sola.”
Let’s see who wins this.
The tense staring contest ended when Cherui laughed loudly and fiddled with the ring on his thumb. The engraved design twisted, and black smoke rose from it—just like what had surrounded Aileen.
“Hhh.”
The black cloud enveloped Cherui. The smoke seeped into his mouth and nose. His bright blue eyes grew dull, his gaze distant and hazy, and he grinned vacantly. He was like a drunkard.
“Good things are good, aren’t they?”
He came close, running a hand over my shoulder. His other hand slipped around my waist. Even through the fabric of my clothes, it felt like insects crawling over me.
“Don’t.”
I quickly knocked his arm away, glaring at him—but he kept smiling.
“Be honest, Diane.”
He already knows my name?
This wasn’t the way he usually talked. His words were sharp, almost logical.
“I’m part of the Duke’s family too. There must be something I need to know.”
“It’s nothing like that.”
Ignoring me, he began toying with the ribbon on my chest, his touch lingering in a way that made my skin crawl.
The tea I’d just drunk threatened to come back up.
“Playing coy. You’ve been trained better than I thought.”
He was worse than the villains.
“When you’re ready to be honest, come to my room.”
His breathy voice whispered in my ear.
“Closer.”
I’d had enough. Smiling sweetly, I beckoned him nearer. Cherui leaned toward me.
“Want to die? Stop messing around.”
I gritted my teeth and murmured it just for him.
“You—!”
Cherui exhaled sharply through his nose and raised his hand. Words had failed, so now it was violence.
He’s complete trash.
Strangely, his movements turned sluggish, like seaweed drifting in water. I stood and caught his raised hand.
“Let go.”
He tried to shake me off, but his resistance was far too weak for a grown man. As I gripped his clammy hand, my thigh—marked with a black tattoo—began to throb, as if someone were stabbing it with a knife.
“Hiyah!”
“Ugh!”
With my shout, Cherui toppled onto the sofa. My head had struck his face squarely. Blood dripped in a stream from between his fingers as he clutched his nose.
“What is this—”
Just then, the Duke walked in, his gaze flicking between me and Cherui.
