- Chapter 17
In the end, Clazen left without gaining anything.
I never thought I could win a verbal sparring match against Clazen.
He had always seemed so far above her. That someone like him would concede to her words—it was oddly fascinating.
Maybe the reason she’d never beaten him before was simply because she’d never tried.
…Maybe I’m capable of more than I think.
Sitting at her desk, Sevetina bolstered herself with a quiet breath of confidence.
Now then, what should I do next?
Clazen wasn’t a mage. She had to consider that Dante might not have told him everything.
They had met as fellow candidates, but their personalities didn’t mesh well.
The first thing she needed to do was clear.
“Adel, bring me some stationery.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Adel returned with writing paper and an envelope. Sevetina began composing a letter to arrange a meeting with Yulia.
To see July again.
As she wrote, old memories resurfaced.
“I hate that you came to our estate.”
She could still remember Yulia’s voice as she clutched July’s hand.
The way her smooth fingers had deliberately traced the callouses embedded in July’s rougher ones.
She knew exactly what that gesture meant.
It was to highlight the difference between them.
“Don’t you agree?”
That smiling, elegant face had left Sevetina speechless.
There was a natural grace in Yulia’s every move that made Sevetina shrink in comparison.
“We’re different by blood. You only got into this house because of luck. If it weren’t for the water power manifesting in you, you wouldn’t even be allowed to glance at our family.”
Sevetina hadn’t disagreed—but she hadn’t agreed either.
Yulia had inherited her noble lineage by chance as well. That she would point to luck as a way to draw a line between herself and July felt hypocritical.
But Sevetina had known how foolish it would be to say so out loud.
“Live quietly. Like a mouse.”
A bitter smile tugged at Sevetina’s lips.
“Life isn’t fair.”
Yulia’s hostility had been stronger than she expected—and always directed at July. Though Sevetina knew getting along with her was necessary to survive in the estate, it had never gone well.
Could we ever truly get along?
For July, entering the count’s household had been a stroke of fortune.
Once just an orphan, she’d been granted the count’s name and the status of a water successor. Back then, the foolish July had dared to hope.
That she’d left the orphanage behind for a new life.
It had been the same when she met the three successors.
Maybe… I already knew, even then.
That none of it had really belonged to July.
Maybe she had just refused to admit it.
Because it had been the only glimmer of light in a life of nothingness.
There was a time like that.
“Welcome, Lady Sevetina!”
Yulia approached with a beaming smile.
Sevetina stared at her, thrown off by the unfamiliar expression. The curve of her lips looked so foreign, it was as if she were looking at someone else entirely.
Sevetina had sent her only a short, polite letter—just a greeting, with a request to visit the estate.
Yulia hadn’t asked a single question. She had accepted the visit without hesitation.
Just as the successors had once been July’s only hope, now Sevetina was Yulia’s only hope.
Life was full of irony.
Who would’ve thought I’d become Yulia’s lifeline?
Expressionless, Sevetina gave a small nod.
“Are you feeling unwell?” Yulia asked, carefully watching her reaction. The woman who once seemed oblivious now flitted with rodent-like alertness.
Sevetina shook her head.
“I’m fine. May I see your sister now?”
“You look a little pale. Wouldn’t you like to rest and have some tea first? I had refreshments prepared in the back garden to match your arrival time. I didn’t know what you liked, so I brought the entire dessert menu from Leoire.”
Leoire.
That was Yulia’s favorite dessert shop. Their pastries weren’t just beautiful—they were famously delicious and wildly popular.
No one in the Rib household had ever taken July to Leoire. The one and only time she’d tasted their desserts was when she followed Clazen there.
Sevetina still remembered her first bite of cake.
The sponge was soft and airy, layered with cream that was almost shockingly sweet. Paired with the strawberry-flavored filling, it had felt like floating through the sky.
“Shall we head to the garden?” Yulia asked, pressing her again.
Sevetina laughed inwardly.
…Someone’s nervous.
She could almost taste the sugar in her mouth—though whether it came from the memory of cake or the sight of Yulia’s anxiety, she wasn’t sure.
Smiling faintly, she shook her head.
“I’m truly fine. We can enjoy the refreshments after I see your sister.”
Yulia’s eyes narrowed slightly—not with irritation, but with calculation. She was gauging Sevetina’s mood again.
After a pause, Yulia bowed her head slightly and let her shoulders fall.
“It would be so nice if July were awake… I’ll take you to her.”
Yulia took the lead. Sevetina followed her down the familiar hallways of the estate.
Among the countless rooms, there had never been one for July. The only space ever allotted to her was a shabby attic room at the very top of the house.
“This way.”
They stopped in front of a guest room. Sevetina immediately realized—it was one reserved for visiting nobles.
Calling this “July’s room” was beyond generous. It was lavish, bordering on absurd.
In death—or a state near it—July lived in more luxury than she ever had alive.
Yulia opened the door.
“This is my sister, July Rib.”
Sevetina stepped closer to the bed, Yulia’s voice fading behind her.
Next to the bed was a large window, flooded with sunlight. No more attic with its tiny window—no more July basking in scraps of sunlight.
The light now poured gently across her face.
The sleeping face of July Rib.
Lying as if dead, her face was pale and nearly colorless.
Sevetina recalled something she’d once heard—that the face reflected in a mirror or clear water was never truly your own.
This is the first time I’m seeing myself.
It was a strange feeling.
The frail body from lack of nourishment. The dark shadows beneath her eyes. The sun-darkened skin from living rough. The coarse hair. The faint scars and hardened callouses peeking through her nightclothes.
It was a raw, brutal portrait of July’s life.
Sevetina’s stomach turned.
So… this is me.
She remembered Clazen’s words:
“She was the most radiant and beautiful person I’ve ever met.”
That had to be a lie.
Did he really see me that way?
She couldn’t help but question Clazen’s intent.
Because the “beauty” he described… was a world apart from what July had lived.
Was she just too used to Sevetina’s life now? Or did she simply not want to accept July’s reality?
She hated it. She couldn’t stand it.
The darkness, the misery. July Rib—alive but barely, stripped of everything. A child who never had anything and was never allowed to want anything.
Sevetina shut her eyes tightly.
“The priest and doctor check on her regularly… but there’s no sign of improvement,” Yulia said softly.
Her voice—pretending to be a loving sister—had the opposite effect. It cooled Sevetina’s blood.
“She’s my only sister. I pray every day she’ll wake up soon.”
But for someone so concerned, she didn’t ask a single question.
Even with Sevetina standing right there—the only survivor from the incident, alone with her—Yulia didn’t seem curious at all.
It wasn’t the attitude of someone who was worried.
It was nothing like Clazen or Dante. Even Crown Prince Wyatt Craytan had asked questions when they spoke.
Words and actions didn’t match—that was Yulia.
At the very least, Sevetina knew Yulia didn’t truly want July to wake up.
Because nothing Yulia said aligned with what she did.
This was the Yulia Sevetina remembered. And that realization made the thought of murder feel… easier.
Sevetina narrowed her eyes.
So… how would she try to kill me?
With both a priest and a doctor regularly present, poisoning would be difficult.
Unless she kills quickly and denies everything…
If Sevetina appeared to have no motive for killing July, suspicion might not fall on her.
And if she maintained the image of someone who cared about July, even with evidence, people would hesitate to believe she was responsible.
As she considered possible murder plans, Sevetina’s gaze fell on something unfamiliar.
A bracelet on July’s wrist.
“What’s this bracelet?”
“Oh, that was made by Sir Dante Odrian himself.”
Sevetina perked up at that.
“It monitors July’s condition. If there’s even a slight change, it alerts him instantly.”
“…”
“He’s actually teleported here once when something triggered it. I saw his face turn completely pale…”
Yulia paused dramatically.
“He’s always been considerate toward me—as a fellow successor—but seeing him worry over my sister was truly moving.”
So, the real message was clear: Dante values me.
Sevetina let out a dry laugh, but kept her attention on the key information.
If the bracelet stayed on, Dante would sense danger and arrive immediately.
That meant the bracelet had to come off.
