Chapter 9
“Let’s keep the identities of the three hidden. We can’t block it forever, but at least for a while they won’t be exposed.”
Marianne, Hans, and Julia. Right now, they were staying in their eastern hometown.
Marianne and Julia were both from the East, while Hans was an orphan raised in the South. The Lottery family still didn’t know about Julia’s existence, and they believed Marianne was from the West.
That was because Marianne had never interacted with enough people for her sloppy lie to be exposed. After all, who would care about the background of a nanny tending a sickly young lady in a side residence, a girl who might die at any time?
Thanks to that, the Lottery family was now struggling as though trying to find a ring in the river. They couldn’t search openly without damaging their honor, and searching quietly was useless since they had no information about the three.
The fact that the three were in the East made it even harder.
The East was politically neutral. Because of that, they had suffered when the former royal faction favored the South and West, but when the monarchy was overturned, unlike the others, they managed to keep their footing. In other words, it had been a successful neutrality.
Since the East had never sided with any monarchy, they stuck to themselves. Unless it was a royal order, they weren’t a region that would listen to outsiders, least of all nobles from elsewhere.
And what if a stranger showed up and asked if they knew a woman in a portrait?
Whether they knew her or not, whether they liked her or not, they would drive out the stranger. Loyalty always bent inward. And in a small, tightly-knit community like the village where the three were staying, it wouldn’t stop at driving outsiders away—they would actively protect their own.
In Pentlin’s case, he was lucky. By coincidence, an Easterner—someone from the same hometown, no less—was under him.
Lottery, however, couldn’t expect such luck. There was a reason Easterners despised the old royalist faction. They deliberately divided loyalties by region and employed only Southerners and Westerners.
Marianne too wouldn’t have come all the way to the South if not for her personal connection with Crystal’s mother. The lie about being from the West was surely a product of that subtle Eastern discrimination.
So, if one had to choose, the East leaned more favorably toward the current royal faction. After all, isn’t the enemy of your enemy your ally? People despise those who bring only harm without benefit more than those who simply bring no benefit.
The East was not a region where the Lottery family could recklessly extend its influence, so if Pentlin put in just a bit of effort, the results were bound to be successful.
“Lottery will be wasting their time in a big way. Excellent, excellent!”
Jenny clapped her hands. Mel, beside her, clapped too, not really understanding why. Meanwhile, Demian, standing in between them, opened his mouth with a troubled look.
“My lord.”
“Yes.”
Demian’s gaze drifted to the desk. Past the papers Jenny had just delivered, past the neatly stacked shelves, his eyes landed on the wall before returning to Illian.
If one pulled out the red-bound volume in the bottom right corner, a hidden vault would be revealed. Only Demian and Illian knew about its existence, and only Illian knew how to open it. Demian narrowed his eyes. He had seen Illian put something inside just yesterday.
“Are you really going to send the marriage contract?”
Inside was the marriage contract signed by both Illian and Crystal.
“The marriage contract? You’ve already gone that far? You acted as though you weren’t interested. My lord, you work faster than I thought.”
“That’s not it. Nothing has been decided yet.”
“The more desperately you deny it, Demi, the more I want to cheer you on. I’m all for this marriage.”
“Jenny!”
“What?!”
Their voices rose. Their gazes clashed at equal height, and if looks had form, sparks would have flown in midair.
It wasn’t that Demian’s worries were unfounded. He could be excessive at times, but most of the time he was rational and wise. What he feared wasn’t Crystal herself but marriage into the Lottery family. Lottery was one of the core families of the old royalist faction—in other words, a house that they would eventually need to crush.
“Enough, both of you. First, I’ll talk with Crystal. So send her up when she arrives.”
Demian glared icily at Jenny until the very end before finally smoothing his expression and nodding. Jenny only shrugged, as if it were nothing. Illian let out a quiet sigh.
“And for the record, I have no intention of sending it. Remember that.”
From the start, it had been nothing more than a prank. The contract had no legal effect until it reached the royal palace and was approved. It was just an ordinary piece of paper.
Demian openly showed relief. If Illian were to burn the contract right in front of him, he might even soar around the room in joy. Illian considered it for a moment but dismissed the idea—too troublesome. Jenny, on the other hand, looked disappointed.
“Well, it can’t be helped. Still, I support it. Just so you know!”
“Keep your mouth shut and get going. Mel, you too.”
“…Y-yes!”
Demian gathered up Jenny’s dry clothes and ushered both her and Mel out. Jenny led the way, Demian followed, but Mel, who would normally walk right beside him, hesitated and hung back. As soon as they disappeared beyond the door, she scurried back into the room.
Mel looked like someone who had something to say. Illian leaned sideways with his arms crossed, and Mel quickly rose on tiptoe.
“I support it too.”
She cupped her hands around her mouth, glancing back as though afraid of being overheard, and whispered her little confession like a secret. Her faint murmur tickled his ear, and then she darted across the room and out the door.
No wonder she’d seemed absentminded earlier—she had been weighing her stance. Typical of Mel, with her quirky side.
Demian was against it. Jenny and Mel were in favor.
It wasn’t a matter of voting, but that left only one opinion missing. Illian thought that the next time he met Milo, he’d ask. In favor? Against? He suspected Milo would cast his lot with the opposition.
Crystal entered timidly, watching Illian’s expression. A steaming teacup sat on the table—Demian had left it behind.
Demian had clearly wanted to stay, but when Illian signaled him, he vanished without a sound. To Crystal, this was hardly welcome. Demian wasn’t exactly comforting, but it was still better than being alone with Illian.
“Have you been well?”
“Yes. Thanks to you…”
The polite words of courtesy made her feel uneasy. Crystal feared Illian’s smiling face, because she had too much to hide.
“There is something I want to ask.”
Illian laid a paper on the table. It was a portrait of a woman, drawn in elegant strokes. Had she not recognized the face, Crystal might have stared at it blankly, wondering what it meant.
But unfortunately, she did know.
Julia. Her only friend, and Marianne’s niece.
Illian slid the paper closer for her to see. A considerate gesture, but far from welcome. Crystal set down her cup to hide her trembling hands.
What if he asked if she knew her? Why did he know about Julia? How much did he know?
Worries surged. If Illian revealed bits of information just to test her, she’d crumble instantly. The nanny had been right—she had no defense against conversation.
“She’s called Julia. For some reason, the head of the Lottery family believes she is Crystal.”
His first words weren’t even a question, contrary to what he’d said. That, at least, was a small blessing—he didn’t seem intent on sparring with her.
Illian pressed his gloved hand lightly against the table. White gloves, worn indoors even while drinking tea. Crystal reflexively glanced down at her own bare hands.
Men who didn’t remove their gloves even for tea indoors…
“Your father is carrying this portrait, searching for you. Did you know?”
“No.”
Crystal’s face went pale as she answered, her voice trembling far more than her hands had.
Not long after Crystal had left, Marianne had resigned. She left for her hometown with Hans, while Julia had already gone back earlier.
Crystal had expected her father would search for her once he noticed her absence. Along the way, he would inevitably search for the nanny and coachman too.
But they had no portrait to offer. Which meant the Lottery family could only pursue them based on verbal descriptions. Even if they commissioned a portrait, it should have been of their faces, not Julia’s.
“From now on, I would like you to be truthful with me. Crystal Lottery, for what purpose did you come here?”
“…Have you never considered that I might be an impostor, pretending to be Crystal Lottery?”
“That would be far too blatant.”
Illian gestured at his own hair. A strand of black hair curled around his fingertip.
Crystal’s gaze fell to the edge of her vision—her own golden hair, shining proof of her identity, the very thing that had driven her to flee. And those blue eyes.
She wished for either one to vanish. As a child, she had prayed to wake up with eyes like her mother’s. But the strange genetics of the Lottery family had never granted her wish.
Crystal quickly sorted her thoughts, then gave up. She knew she didn’t have the eloquence to talk her way out of this. Even at her best, she couldn’t hope to outwit a duke.
“I just wanted to run away from home. As you know, my health was frail, and I spent all my time in the side residence. When I finally recovered enough to go outside, my father tried to marry me off. …I didn’t want that kind of marriage.”
She’d left out a few details, but there wasn’t a single lie. Had her father not forced marriage on her, she would never have come this far.
“So you chose me?”
“Yes. You were the only one I had ever heard of.”
“You chose me for that? Should I call that brave, or reckless?”
“I’m truly sorry, my lord. I don’t even know how to explain myself…”
Crystal bowed her head deeply. Illian, watching the silken gold hair fall, looked away awkwardly.
He was far more comfortable with people who approached him as negotiators, talking about benefits and bargains. He hadn’t expected her to bow her head so humbly, apologizing like this. Crystal was nothing like the kind of human he was used to.
It was embarrassing, maybe even amusing. Hard to put into words. Hiding that complicated feeling beneath a stony face, Illian spoke again.
