~Chapter 20~

“Of course.”

In truth, Larvihan had already taken all the revenge himself—if Lovelace did anything now, it would only be killing. But he pretended not to know.

“Rey, eat this.”

To press the matter further, Larvihan slid over a cake plate. On top of the snowy white cream, fine gold dust was sprinkled—an unmistakable symbol of wealth.

Naturally, it tasted incredible. Lovelace’s face lit up with a big smile as she picked up her fork.

“There was a famous dessert chef at the Harmelda estate. The Emperor himself once tried to recruit him but failed. He used to run a small diner in an alley, but later became the exclusive dessert chef of House Harmelda. His name was White Bell Circle.”

White… Bell… Circle? That sounds weirdly familiar.

“I’ve learned that Paolo liked his desserts very much too.”

Watching Lovelace’s cheeks puff out as she ate, Larvihan smiled with satisfaction.

“Is it even better than this one?”

Lovelace asked seriously. Larvihan pushed the plate toward her.

“Rey, why do you think I never eat desserts anymore? It’s because I can’t forget those ones.”

His eyebrows lowered slightly.

A dessert that even Larvihan—who didn’t like sweets—couldn’t forget. Lovelace’s eyes trembled as if shaken by an earthquake.

“Delicious food, a comfortable bed, good music, and people who love you. That’s what you lost.”

And not just you—Paolo lost the same things.

Larvihan whispered like a devil.

“Shall we take revenge?”

“Not revenge… but in the name of justice, people who did bad things should be punished.”

Lovelace’s hand clenched tightly around her fork. But Larvihan knew that wasn’t enough. He thought of another way to ignite her will.

“Oh, and I had a wardrobe prepared. Clothes in the style you used to like as a child—of course, updated to match today’s trends.”

“I already have plenty of clothes.”

It hadn’t been long since Larvihan had emptied out an entire boutique for her. He wiped a bit of cream from the corner of her lips and spoke softly.

“You have to take back the year you were denied.”

Lovelace looked around the dressing room, now filled with new designs, and the jewelry cases lined with treasures. Her mouth fell open.

“These are all the things you should have enjoyed over the past year.”

Larvihan was meticulous. Wherever she went, people whispered the same thing to her:

These are what you should have had.

He hadn’t forgotten Paolo either. On the floor just below Lovelace’s room, he had prepared a large space just for him, filled with everything a boy could love.

Paolo tried to hide his smile and said it was all too much, but Larvihan silenced him with one sentence:

“Paolo, these are the things you should have had.”

Hearing this all day long planted a seed of anger in Lovelace’s heart. It wasn’t anger about the things she never enjoyed.

It was the suspicion that maybe she had been brought into this world because of Lovelace’s misfortune. A suspicion that felt almost rational.

“Ha… this is really making me angry.”

“Right? It makes you angry, doesn’t it?”

Larvihan jumped lightly down from a tree.

“Ah!”

Lovelace flinched in surprise.

“Were you thinking something strange?”

“No. I wasn’t.”

“Good. You must have been thinking something very healthy. You’ve decided to take revenge, haven’t you?”

“I think I should. But it’s not for selfish reasons.”

“I know.”

“It’s about justice… and even though I don’t remember it, they killed my parents.”

“Of course. You were a dutiful daughter.”

“And my brother also suffered.”

“What a touching sibling bond—you could make anyone cry.”

Lovelace crossed her arms and stared at him. Larvihan always had a reply to everything, but she still felt an unsettling chill.

“I’ll actively help you.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. Lovelace glanced around. A few maids were hiding in the bushes, holding their breath.

“People are watching, so take your hand off.”

The maids’ fearful eyes shifted into ones filled with curiosity.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if rumors spread that the future Duke and his bride are close? Then no pests would bother us.”

Larvihan leaned his lips close to her cheek. The maids’ eyes grew wider and wider.

That’s enough.

Lovelace pushed gently against his chest and whispered:

“So how exactly are you going to help me take revenge?”

A perfect change of topic. His lips, which had been about to brush her cheek, pulled away.

Even his eyes can sigh.

“Shall we make a plan together? Or you could just leave it to me. I’ll pay them back tenfold.”

Larvihan stroked her cheek with a smile.

It was the perfect smile of a villain.

Lovelace officially became Count Lovelace Harmelda. All it took was signing a few documents.

In other novels, women had to risk their lives to inherit a title—but this setting was much nicer.

Of course, not just anyone could succeed to a title so easily. It was only possible because Larvihan had worked tirelessly behind the scenes for her.

But Larvihan never bragged about his efforts, so naturally, Lovelace didn’t know how much he had done.

“A telegram has arrived, my lady.”

The cheerful voice belonged to Judith—a maid around Lovelace’s age, newly hired by Larvihan. When asked where she came from, Judith only smiled like a child, and Larvihan had told Lovelace not to ask about her past.

He had promised to replace her if Lovelace disliked her, but after a few days, Judith proved flawless. Just what one would expect from someone chosen by the picky Larvihan—capable and efficient.

Sometimes, though, Judith praised Lovelace too excessively and casually mentioned her “lost year,” which was uncomfortable. But it was tolerable.

“Where is it from, Judith?”

Since her announcement as Count Harmelda, letters had poured in. But strangely, they were all invitations to tea parties or banquets.

Odd, wasn’t it? She was the head of her house now. Shouldn’t she be receiving invitations to meetings of family heads, not only social gatherings?

“It’s from the Imperial Palace. His Majesty requests your presence.”

“Do I have to go?”

At the thought of Arwen, a heavy pressure squeezed her chest.

“Yes, my lady. I think you must. After all, His Majesty also supported your succession to the title.”

Seeing Lovelace’s reluctance, Judith added her words gently. With a sigh of resignation, Lovelace nodded.

“Alright… I’ll go.”

On the day Lovelace entered the Imperial Palace, she had to wake at dawn to prepare.

Judith was very different from Anna. While Anna usually indulged Lovelace’s complaints, Judith was firm when it came to duties.

So, from the early morning, Lovelace soaked in a bath infused with oils, applied frozen milk packs to her skin, rubbed herself with body oil until she smelled like roses just by passing by, and put on layers of clothing.

The final step was her hair. Lovelace begged Judith not to make it too elaborate. Judith readily agreed, then braided it loosely and tucked flowers into the strands.

In the mirror, Lovelace looked like a flower herself.

“Too much.”

She raised her hand to remove the flowers, but Judith was quicker.

“You look so beautiful. Like a nymph of the meadow. I’d believe it if someone said you were a fairy queen.”

Lovelace gave up on removing them—not because she agreed, but because she was worried they would be late if she argued longer.

“Hm. It annoys me that Judith got to see you like this first.”

When she opened the door, she ran into what felt like a solid wall. That wall was Larvihan.

“Stop joking.”

Lovelace assumed he was teasing her. Compared to him, dressed impeccably in formal attire for the palace, she felt plain.

“You just need to greet them politely and leave. After that… shall we go on a date?”

Larvihan wrapped an arm around her waist. Servants peeked at them with curious eyes. Feeling uncomfortable, Lovelace shifted, but Larvihan only raised an eyebrow, dissatisfied.

“Shall I just carry you down, Rey?”

And knowing him, he really would. Lovelace gave up resisting.

“You still haven’t answered my date invitation.”

He could be relentless at times. Lovelace let out a shallow sigh.

“…Do as you like.”

“Maxmuel said he reserved a famous restaurant.”

So it was already decided. Why bother asking then?

“It’s steak—the kind you like. I even tried it myself, and it wasn’t bad.”

She let it slide since the choice wasn’t bad.

Larvihan had sharp taste. If he said something was good, it always was. Lovelace’s expectations swelled like a balloon filling with air.

But that day, she never got to eat the steak she had longed for.

Because after the ceremonial touch of the sword on her shoulder, Arwen spoke:

“Would you join me for dinner?”

“No, thank you.”

On such a formal occasion, Larvihan politely declined.

“Then you may leave, Duke. Only Count Lovelace, the new head of House Harmelda, will remain. What do you say, Count?”

Lovelace froze. Could she really refuse the Emperor’s dinner invitation right after becoming a Count? Remembering the Arwen from the novel made it harder.

That woman had a talent for removing obstacles without dirtying her own hands. She was dangerous to have as an enemy.

And now she had Arwen’s attention.

How flattering.

A crazy but handsome Duke, a smiling Emperor who secretly disposed of people, and even a mysterious Pope…

I’m really popular in this world.

“Count?”

Arwen pressed. Lovelace didn’t want to make her an enemy—not yet.

“It would be my honor, Your Majesty.”

She was disappointed about missing the famous steakhouse, but comforted herself: the Emperor’s food must be just as good.

But soon she regretted it. Not because the food wasn’t tasty—she simply couldn’t taste it under the circumstances.

“To celebrate your becoming Count Harmelda, I’m thinking of building you a new mansion.”

In the middle of the meal, Arwen dropped those unexpected words.