Chapter 6
The problem was… this place was the Imperial Palace.
A time when Ian shouldn’t even be aware of Ophelia’s existence.
“…No.”
Something felt off. Ophelia took a few steps back as if fleeing.
She saw a flash of disappointment on Ian’s face—something he failed to hide—but she couldn’t bring herself to comfort him.
She had finally resolved to live a life without Ian. She couldn’t let herself waver now.
Don’t shake me.
“…Ophelia.”
“Find someone else. If you’re looking for someone to play that role for you, you’ll find plenty if you just look around.”
Ophelia spoke coldly and turned away.
But no matter how composed she sounded, she couldn’t hide the urgency in her steps.
After Ophelia left, Ian stood frozen for a while.
“Your Grace! So you were here!”
It wasn’t until Manish came storming in, practically ready to grab him by the collar, that Ian snapped back.
Manish had worked tirelessly to push the scandal between Ian and Cadellia, so the moment he saw Ian, he burst into a tirade.
“No matter what, how could you do that! And at Millesette of all places! After all that effort!”
“…”
“I must be the fool for trusting you! Why don’t you just drag a sea squirt around as your aide instead?! Huh?! Say something!”
He didn’t actually grab Ian’s collar, but judging by the rage radiating off him, one wouldn’t be surprised if Ian’s head had already been mounted on the palace gates.
But Ian, who would normally smile sheepishly and apologize, was acting strange.
No matter how much Manish berated him, he just stood there, dazed.
Then came the question—
“By the way, does the First Princess have a lover?”
Has His Grace finally gone mad?
Manish blinked in disbelief, then quickly decided:
“Cadellia Millesette is the second daughter. I’ve explained this plenty of times—have you forgotten everything?”
“Ophelia Millesette. The eldest, born to a lifelong court lady.”
“…You’re not seriously interested in her, are you?”
Manish raised an eyebrow, hoping Ian would say, “Of course not.”
Instead—
“I keep finding myself wondering why I thought not today of all days.”
The world is never so kind.
As Manish stood there frozen, mouth agape, Ian lifted his left hand and looked down.
“I followed the First Princess when I saw her leave. Not that she welcomed me or anything…”
His indifferent gaze fell to his left ring finger.
More precisely, to the ring that had glittered on Ophelia’s ring finger just before she left.
That ring was the sole reason Ian hadn’t stopped her.
She made it perfectly clear she didn’t want to be with me.
But why did she keep looking at him like that?
If Ophelia had accepted his proposal easily, it might have ended with a night’s curiosity.
Even Ian didn’t have the habit of clinging to people who looked like they’d rather die than be around him.
But then—
—If I said I only held onto you because I didn’t want to be grabbed by the collar… would that be a valid reason?
That face she’d made when he openly revealed his interest in her.
The mix of longing and resentment—so obvious, even she couldn’t hide it.
“I want to see her again.”
Ophelia ran from Ian, letting her feet carry her wherever they pleased.
No—she ran. A person fleeing doesn’t walk calmly. The word “ran” is more accurate.
As if every shadow of the night clutched at the hem of her dress, her feet barely even touched the ground.
Then, breathless, she looked up—and found herself in a place she recognized like a promise.
So remote that even lost apprentice maids rarely passed through, it was her own palace.
“Palace” in name only—more like a humble house with just a few rooms.
It had been ages since she felt such stark shabbiness, not since becoming a duchess of Ronen.
And yet, oddly enough, that very shabbiness felt comforting.
Ophelia trudged into the building, now so unfamiliar it felt strange.
She pushed open the creaky, unoiled door, didn’t even change out of her clothes, and collapsed onto the bed.
Only one thought filled her mind:
“Why?”
Why was Ian acting this way?
Why now, of all times?
Of course, Ophelia knew. This current Ian had done nothing wrong.
But if wrongdoing was the only reason to resent someone, the world would have no avengers.
In her first year in Ronen, she had suffered from mutism.
She remembered it clearly. That year was the worst.
Even for someone used to cold treatment, the bullying inside Ronen Castle had been suffocating.
They’d rub soot into her blankets, serve food drenched in spices she couldn’t eat.
But that was bearable.
What she couldn’t stand were the constant snide remarks about her every move:
“Oh, I guess Lady Duchess is too refined for our ‘low-class’ customs, coming from the Empire.”
“Everyone wears clothes like this in Ronen. Not good enough for a princess of the Empire?”
“There’s no one here to indulge a princess’s tantrums. Stop whining.”
“Born to a maid, and yet can’t even do menial work properly.”
If she seemed awkward, it was because she was from the Empire.
If she struggled to adapt, it was because she’d grown up pampered as a princess.
If she made a mistake, it was because her blood as a bastard showed through.
And when she did perform well, they still didn’t praise her.
“Imperials are cold and ruthless,” they’d whisper.
“Being born a princess with a fine education, anything less than this would be odd.”
“If you’re born illegitimate, shouldn’t you at least be competent to make up for it?”
It started as whispers, but spread like wildfire across the castle.
There was no one to correct it from above. The head maid and stewardess simply looked the other way.
They were quick to sense Ian’s cold treatment of Ophelia.
Without someone to stamp it out, the fire only grew.
The aristocrats, eyeing the duchess position for their own, viewed Ophelia as an obstacle.
The castle staff made no effort to hide their discomfort with a foreign duchess.
Desperate and suffocating, the last thing Ophelia clung to was Ian’s sleeve.
Partly because it was all she had left—but also because, back then, she had trusted Ian.
She had believed in the sincerity of the man who looked upon her with warmth when no one else did.
He had been the one to finally break the lock around her guarded heart.
He had come to her so fervently that she believed he would never abandon her.
Ian was undoubtedly a good man.
But she should have known: a good man isn’t always a good lover.
She had once stood in front of his room all day, hoping to see him.
“Ophelia. Please stop waiting outside my room. The staff says it makes them uncomfortable.”
That day, Ophelia snapped.
“Then maybe you should stop avoiding me! I stood outside your door all day—do you even care?! Do you even know why?!”
“Ophelia.”
“You said you loved me! You said when I had nowhere left to go, you’d take my hand! Did you forget everything you said when you proposed?!”
Her sorrow rose and crashed in her throat. Words she’d swallowed grew heavier, like trying to swallow a whole walnut—her throat ached.
Ian, while you were gone, your relatives surrounded and demeaned me.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to debut in a foreign social scene without a husband?
They’re all waiting for me to slip up. If I break a single dish, they’ll swarm like crows and gossip endlessly.
And still, you think the fact I didn’t “rescue” you is what matters most?
Don’t you see I’ve been backed into a corner, and you’re the only one I’m looking for?
You said you loved me, Ian.
Please… say something.
Please!
“…Enough. That’s enough.”
Ah.
“…Ian.”
“Stop being exhausting. I’m not in the mood to talk to you.”
Was she even standing on solid ground anymore?
Feeling like she might collapse at any moment, Ophelia barely managed to speak.
“…Fine. Then just grant me one request.”
“I’ll decide after hearing it. Go on.”
“I want to replace the head maid and stewardess.”
“You have the authority to do that. Why are you asking me?”
“They told me they can’t be replaced without your approval…”
So it was a lie.
The realization stiffened her tongue. She felt like a fish gasping on land.
She was disgusted with herself for even uttering those words.
And the way Ian looked at her—how much more painful that was.
Ian sighed as Ophelia stood there, frozen in shame.
“…You don’t know anyone in Ronen, do you? Even if you dismissed them, you’d have no one to replace them with. That’s probably why they told you to come to me.”
That couldn’t be…
“Do whatever you want. I won’t interfere. But don’t wait around all day to ask something like this again.”
“I—I just wanted to talk to you…!”
“Hah. Ophelia. Wasn’t I always just a political marriage to you anyway?”
