CHAPTER 59…………………………………..
“What?”
Sereret’s eyes widened in surprise. Birth control pills?
“Birth control pills?”
Eve repeated with a puzzled look.
“They work well, but it’s better not to take them. The medicine doesn’t leave the body properly, so later, even if you want to have a child, it can make conception difficult—or the baby might not be born healthy.”
Madam Glemima’s face was full of concern as she looked at Sereret. It was a medicine that was truly harmful if taken for a long time.
“Are you sure this medicine was made by the Held tribe?”
Madam Glemima replied with certainty.
“It contains the Puit herb, and only the Held tribe can handle Puit properly. I’m certain it’s one of their medicines.”
“Thank you. That was very helpful.”
Sereret smiled faintly and stood up.
As she left Madam Glemima’s house, Sereret let out a quiet laugh. Really, Lydia… you’ll try anything, won’t you?
Even before Sophia could find out who ordered it, Sereret already knew. It had to be Lydia.
Yuan’s goal was to have a child with her—he had no reason to give her birth control. The only person who would hate the idea of Sereret bearing Yuan’s child was Lydia.
Besides, Lydia had Held blood herself, so using a Held tribe medicine would be second nature to her.
I wonder if Lydia still doesn’t know… that she can’t bear children herself.
Sereret tilted her head. Had Yuan not told her his plans?
“Who do you think tried to give you birth control pills?”
Eve asked from inside the carriage, looking puzzled.
“Whoever it was, it was certainly pointless,” Sereret said with a soft laugh.
Even without the pills, there would be no child between her and Yuan anyway.
“Shouldn’t we inform His Grace the Duke?”
“It’s fine.”
Sereret shook her head at Eve’s worried tone.
Yuan didn’t need to know now. He could find out in court during the divorce proceedings.
A mistress secretly feeding birth control pills to the wife. That would make for a perfect gossip headline.
Sereret looked down at the small vial in her hand. Piece by piece, the evidence was piling up—it would make the divorce much easier.
In a way, she was grateful to Lydia for providing her with such convenient proof.
The garden was full of early summer fragrance. A white butterfly fluttered down and landed lightly on the tea table. Its delicate wings trembled in the breeze.
Lydia gazed at the butterfly quietly. How pretty. A faint smile curved her lips—then disappeared.
She lifted her teacup and poured the hot tea over the butterfly.
Red tea spilled over its white wings. The butterfly struggled weakly, then went still.
The wings, once white, were now stained crimson—like blood.
“It’s dead. How pitiful.”
Lydia murmured, her face expressionless.
After staring at the lifeless butterfly, she overturned her cup to cover it. Out of sight, she sighed deeply.
“Why did you have to flutter in front of me?”
She rose without a hint of guilt.
Anita, who had been standing a short distance away, hurried over and draped a shawl over Lydia’s shoulders.
Her eyes flicked toward the overturned teacup. The sight of the dead butterfly made her stomach churn with pity—it somehow felt like looking at herself.
“Let’s go see Nunuki.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Anita turned away from the cup and followed Lydia.
Lydia changed clothes and left the imperial palace. Her carriage rolled for some time, heading to the outskirts of the capital—to Nunuki’s apothecary.
Nunuki was of the Held tribe and had been a close friend of Lydia’s late mother. Even after her mother’s death, Lydia had kept in touch with her.
To Nunuki, Lydia was like a niece. Having been an orphan, Nunuki had cherished Lydia’s mother as her only family—and when the mother passed, she vowed to love and protect young Lydia as if she were her own child.
“Nunuki.”
Lydia called as she entered the apothecary.
The small shop was lined with shelves of potions and herbs. Tools and vials cluttered the large worktable, and though there was a window, the space was dim and shadowy from all the drying plants.
“My little angel!”
Nunuki, who had been grinding herbs, rushed toward her. Beaming, she embraced Lydia warmly.
Nunuki was a middle-aged woman with the first traces of gray in her hair, but her sun-browned skin made her look much younger than her age.
“How have you been, Nunuki?”
“Oh, I’ve been well, very well!”
She led Lydia to the cleanest spot available—a sofa.
“It’s gotten even messier since last time.”
Lydia looked around as she sat down, doubtful it would ever be tidy.
Nunuki chuckled. “Please overlook it. Would you like some tea?”
“No, I already had some. Sit down, Nunuki.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Lydia gestured for her to sit. Nunuki smiled and obeyed.
But Lydia said nothing—she just stared at her. Her pale blue eyes shimmered, as if with unshed tears.
“You know, Nunuki…”
“Yes, my angel?”
“They say I can’t have children.”
Lydia met her gaze. The faint tears in her eyes were gone—replaced by a cold light.
‘Why do you still cling to that man? He’s the one who used your infertility to blackmail his emperor! A cold, vile man—why can’t you let him go?’
Her father the emperor’s voice still rang in her ears.
At first, she hadn’t understood. Not one word.
Who couldn’t have children? Me? Yuan blackmailed His Majesty with that?
Her mind was filled with question marks.
‘I don’t understand what Your Majesty means,’ she had said, shaking her head. Why would her father say such absurd things?
‘Listen carefully, child,’ he had sighed deeply and confessed a long-hidden secret.
The medicine her mother had made her take for a childhood skin disease—it had caused infertility. Yuan had discovered that fact and used it to threaten the emperor, demanding the cancellation of a royal event.
The flood of revelations had left Lydia reeling. If she hadn’t been seated, she might have collapsed on the spot.
How could something like this happen to her? Unable to have children? Impossible. Lies.
But the emperor’s next words had shattered her denial.
‘The reason Duke Frectuster refused to marry you was the same. He rejected you because you can’t bear children.’
So that was it. That was why Yuan hadn’t married her. Lydia let out a hollow laugh.
She still couldn’t comprehend why Yuan had chosen that insignificant Sereret Inohater instead of her.
But now she knew—Yuan, the Duke of Frectuster, needed an heir. What he couldn’t get from her, he’d simply sought from another woman.
And the woman who got lucky was Sereret Inohater.
‘He’s a shameless man who used your weakness to blackmail his emperor. Lydia, he’s not worth clinging to.’
‘Did Yuan really do that?’
Tears welled in Lydia’s eyes.
Learning she couldn’t have children was shocking enough—but hearing that Yuan had used it for blackmail was devastating.
He used to do everything for her. She was always his priority.
It’s Sereret’s fault. That woman ruined my Yuan.
Tears streamed down Lydia’s cheeks as resentment filled her heart.
I must take Yuan back. I can’t leave him with Sereret. Before she ruins him completely, I’ll bring him back.
Lost in that memory, Lydia stared coldly at Nunuki.
“What do you mean you can’t have children?”
Nunuki asked in confusion.
“Mother’s medicine for my skin condition—it made me infertile.”
Lydia’s voice was flat, but bitterness burned beneath. Why had her mother done that to her?
“Oh, that can’t be…” Nunuki gasped.
“You were the one who got her the herbs, weren’t you? That makes it partly your fault too.”
Lydia’s emotionless gaze pierced her.
“I… I—”
Nunuki swallowed hard. There was something frightening in Lydia’s eyes, a flash of murderous intent.
When Lydia was a child, she had seemed like an angel from a painting—hence the nickname. But sometimes, her angelic gaze turned terrifying. Just like now.
Then, the sharp edge in Lydia’s eyes softened, and she smiled faintly.
“I won’t hold you responsible. You were my mother’s friend, after all.”
Nunuki’s heart sank. She had promised Lydia’s late mother she would protect the girl. Thinking of that promise, guilt and sorrow clenched her chest.
“I’ll research a cure for infertility,” she said quickly. “You know my skill, my angel. Trust me.”
“I don’t know if that’ll work. They say I can’t ever have children.”
Lydia shrugged. The fact had once crushed her—but now, she could bear it.
She had no real dream of motherhood anyway. She just hated being deprived of something others could have.
Now that she understood why Yuan had chosen Sereret, the pain had dulled.
Even the betrayal didn’t sting as much—after all, it was all Sereret’s fault. Once she removed that woman, everything would be fine.
“Forget that. Nunuki, make me another medicine instead.”
“A medicine? Of course! What kind would you like? Anything you want.”
Nunuki’s voice was warm—ready to do anything for her poor, childless angel.
“A poison. One that burns the throat and makes you writhe in pain before you die.”
Lydia’s gentle voice was calm and elegant, but her pale blue eyes gleamed with life.
