NRAL | Chapter 78

~Chapter 78~

A New Gameboard

Damian had developed a feeling for Nora—one he absolutely shouldn’t have.

Although Eleanor had known this for a while, she only recently realized how deep Damian’s feelings for Nora were.

It was during the period Damian had been confined to his room.

Thanks to Hilda’s undercover investigation, they discovered that Damian had been secretly contacting Nora. Eleanor managed to intercept one of the letters he tried to send in secret.

The contents of the letter were absolutely disgusting.

[Nora, why won’t you come see me? You said you wanted the same thing I did. Was my trust not enough? I keep comforting myself by remembering our proof that night—your soft lips, your warm skin…]

“Urgh!”

It was so disgusting that she couldn’t read any further. She barely managed to stop herself from tearing the letter to shreds.

For a moment, she even felt sorry for Nora. How desperate must she have been to offer herself to someone like him?

Eleanor stifled the urge to vomit. It took her several minutes to calm down enough to think clearly.

‘So that’s why.’

She’d found it strange back when Damian was caught controlling the assassination attempt. Even while being beaten by the Duke, he never mentioned Nora’s name—which had seemed odd at the time.

Now it made sense. Something had already begun between them back then.

As a result, Damian had deluded himself into thinking they shared a passionate, mutual love, and now he was completely obsessed with her.

Sure enough, the moment he was released from confinement, he started chasing after Nora again. He insisted on eating meals with her every day, and whenever he had free time, he would go find her and babble nonsense.

Just as Eleanor had expected, Damian was in high spirits.

And of course he was—after all, the man he saw as his rival had now become impotent. All Damian had ever done was lie around scratching his stomach, yet here was a golden opportunity dropping into his lap.

‘I’ll be the one to warm Nora’s bed now.’

To him, a man who couldn’t perform wasn’t a man at all. Surely Nora, being stuck with such a fiancé, would toss and turn in lonely frustration each night—and eventually come running to him. Maybe even after her marriage, they’d continue the affair.

Fueled by such fantasies, Damian clung to Nora daily like a parasite.

Nora tried to keep her distance, but unfortunately, she’d already said certain things she couldn’t take back. She couldn’t push him away completely. All she could do was respond in vague, half-hearted ways, secretly hoping he’d get bored and move on to another woman.

But Eleanor knew better.

Damian’s feelings for Nora would never fade away naturally. On the contrary, they would only expand and deepen over time. Eventually, his obsession would turn into rage when Nora refused to satisfy his desires.

And that rotting emotion would tighten around Nora’s throat like a chain.

‘The time has come.’

The shock of learning the truth about Nora and Luke had thrown her off for a while—but her mind was now back in motion.

‘It’s time for the two of them to point knives at each other.’

It was time to lay out a new gameboard.

***

The dinner with Baron Turner was scheduled for Friday evening.

Eleanor had expected the duke to attend with her at the family estate, but the baron sent a letter instead—stating that he wished to dine alone with her at a nice restaurant.

He said he wanted to meet her properly before making a final decision on the marriage.

A mere baron, daring to judge Astria’s daughter?

The duke was furious at his arrogance—but he didn’t refuse. The dowry Baron Turner offered was simply too good to pass up.

The Duke instructed Eleanor to dress as beautifully and impressively as possible to put the Baron in his place, and Eleanor nodded obediently.

Damian mocked her misfortune when he heard the news, but Eleanor paid him no mind. Instead, she busied herself buying expensive dresses and jewelry in preparation for Friday.

She spent those days in quiet, composed anticipation—

While these peaceful days passed, Ernst arrived with good news.

“My lady, we may have finally found Nora’s informant.”

When Eleanor referred to the “informant,” she meant the person who had fed Nora information only the real princess could have known.

She’d nearly given up hope—after all, a great deal of money had been spent on the investigation, and there had been no progress for a long while.

But finally, they had results.

“Truly? Who is it?”

“Baron Ronny Griffiths.”

She recognized the name immediately. He was one of Arlo’s lowlife friends—the same man who had gossiped about her in vulgar terms at Nora’s debutante ball.

“We found traces of Nora meeting with Baron Griffiths several times. It seems she used him to learn things like the Crown Prince’s preferences and memories.”

Arlo, when drunk with his rowdy friends, would often ramble about anything and everything, saying things he shouldn’t, without a care. And by the next morning, he’d forget everything he said the night before.

If Griffiths had made up his mind, he could have easily forced the story of Arlo’s first meeting with Eleanor out of him—and Arlo likely wouldn’t remember having said it at all.

“Nora remembers things you don’t! Like our first meeting!”

The memory of Arlo shouting at her, veins bulging, made Eleanor laugh.

So dramatic—yet it had all come from drunken small talk. Ridiculous. Still, it had worked in her favor.

“I think I understand how it all went now. Be sure to erase any evidence. We can’t let anyone else find out.”

“Yes. Also… according to Baron Griffiths, what the Crown Prince said to you during your first meeting was—”

“…He asked if I was a fairy.”

Eleanor said it almost as a murmur, and Ernst’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You knew?”

“Yes. I remember it all—everything about the day I first met Arlo in the imperial gardens.”

She had been five years old, holding her mother’s hand, when she first met him. The young Arlo had looked at her and gasped, asking if she was a fairy. Then he ran to Empress Genevieve and declared:

“Mother, I want that fairy! I’ll take care of her!”

She also remembered the empress’s flustered look as she glanced nervously at the Duchess of Astria.

“…Since when?” Ernst asked.

“Since the very beginning.”

Yes—she had remembered everything from the start.

Even when Nora had confidently claimed to be the real daughter, and Arlo challenged Eleanor, accusing her of not remembering their first meeting—she had stayed silent, though she knew the truth.

Because deep down, she understood.

This memory—this truth—was her escape route. Pretending not to know was her only chance of surviving.

“I should’ve told you earlier. I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize, my lady,” Ernst said, shaking his head seriously. Luckily, he didn’t look offended.

“Thank you for understanding. By the way… Baron Griffiths is known to frequently visit gambling dens, right?”

“Yes. He spends at least three to four nights a week there.”

“Does he go to the same one as Damian?”

“No, different places. They don’t seem to get along—they run in separate circles.”

Eleanor nodded. That made sense.

Griffiths and Damian were very similar. Both were rude, arrogant, and proud without any real merit—men who had nothing but their family names to show for it.

It was no surprise they couldn’t stand each other.

And Eleanor liked that very much.

Ronny Griffiths.

She pictured the thug-like man in her mind—remembering how, when she was Arlo’s fiancée, he had looked her up and down and scoffed:

“So gloomy. What’s the point of a pretty face if you’re that depressing? Poor Arlo, my friend.”

He had said it loud enough for her to hear, laughing with his friends. Likely to show off how “close” he was with the Crown Prince by badmouthing his fiancée—so petty and pathetic.

“Once it’s revealed who the real noblewoman is, he’ll probably try to claim her for himself.”

“Ha ha ha! And then, how would he deal with it? If he got her pregnant, he’d have to take responsibility for her, right?”

“Hah! Can you imagine her clinging to him for child support?”

“With that face, I’d at least take her as a mistress. Arlo and I would be like brothers, then! Hahaha!”

Eleanor remembered even those disgusting voices she’d heard behind the curtains. And somehow… the memories made her feel lighter.

So many guilty people, so many easy targets to use. The world was full of people like them.

“Ernst, I need to find one trustworthy person.”

“A trustworthy person? What kind of person are you looking for?”

“Someone who knows how gambling dens work… and can lie smoothly. Their appearance shouldn’t be too rough. Social status doesn’t matter. But most importantly—”

She trailed off for a moment, then let out a quiet chuckle.

“…They need to hate Damian Astria.”

What an easy condition to meet.

Considering all the chaos Damian caused, it wouldn’t be hard to find someone who hated him.

In some ways, her revenge felt… almost too easy.

Her targets had done such a great job making enemies everywhere.

Should I be grateful for that?

Eleanor smirked and absently ran her fingers along the coil of rope sitting on her table.

“…My lady, that rope—what is it for?”

Hilda, who had been listening silently, finally asked. The thick rope seemed so out of place, coiled neatly on the table.

“Oh, that? It’s a gift.”

“…A rope? A gift?”

“Mm-hm.”

Hilda frowned and stared at Eleanor’s face, her expression darkening. She knew her lady could be a bit clueless, but she never imagined she would buy a rope, something more suitable for tying boats, as a gift.

“Who are you giving it to?”

Hilda thought hard about how to stop her, but Eleanor had already answered.

“Damian.”

The moment Eleanor answered, Hilda stopped worrying.

She understood exactly what kind of “gift” it was.

She was curious how her lady planned to deliver it…

But she didn’t ask.

Because she knew—one day soon, she would see the outcome with her own eyes.