OFR 02

2. Stepmother

The atmosphere in the dining room was somber.
It was the family’s first meal together since the death of Count Whittaker, who had suddenly passed away in a carriage accident.

Edna quietly lifted her gaze and looked around at her family.
Despite their father’s sudden death, not a single person looked grief-stricken or even sad. Their father had always been a busy man. The most Edna ever saw of him was his back as he rode away in his carriage early in the morning.

Even now, when she tried to picture him, all she could remember was his tall figure and neatly combed blond hair.
He had been handsome, yes, but he had never embraced her or spoken to her kindly.
Come to think of it, they had never even clashed—but perhaps that was why they had been more like strangers than family.

“Let’s eat,” said Katrina Whittaker, picking up her spoon.

With her elegant black hair pinned up, Katrina was the Count’s second wife—Edna’s stepmother, who had married him just before his death.
She was fourteen years younger than he had been.

Even in her mourning dress, Katrina looked less like a stepmother and more like Edna’s older brother Roderick’s sister.

She wore her glossy black hair in an elegant twist and dressed in a high-necked black lace gown that would have suited a grandmother, yet her fair, luminous skin and lips like freshly picked cherries hinted at how young she really was.

Despite that youthful appearance, Katrina was calmer and more composed than any of Edna’s real siblings.
It was she who had held the household together after the Count’s sudden death; she who had faced down the vultures among relatives and retainers during the funeral and protected Edna, Roderick, and Marianne.

How had Edna failed to notice any of that in her previous life?
Maybe one only truly matures after enduring unspeakable hardship.
No—she had suffered in her last life, and in the life before that too. This must be the doing of that wretched god who makes her suffer every time and then erases all her memories! Damn that cursed god!

Edna glanced at Katrina, her dark circles betraying her exhaustion, and felt a flicker of pity.
It was strange—she felt closer to Katrina, who didn’t share a drop of her blood, than to her own siblings.
Perhaps it was because she had seen Katrina’s struggle up close.

When Katrina’s eyes suddenly turned toward her, Edna quickly looked down, pretending not to notice the sharp gaze fixed on her forehead.

“I’m starving,” Edna said with a bright smile, ignoring Katrina’s look.

Before her sat a steaming bowl of mushroom soup, carefully prepared by the chef since morning.

Edna picked up her spoon and dipped it into the creamy soup.
As the rich scent of mushrooms rose to her nose, her mouth began to water.

“You can actually eat at a time like this?”
The sharp, mocking voice belonged to Marianne, her older sister.

She was well past the age of adolescent tantrums, yet somehow still acted like a teenager trapped in an endless storm of emotions.

Edna shot her a sidelong glance, her expression troubled.
“Seriously? I haven’t even had a single spoonful yet.”

She was hungry.
She had woken up at dawn, run ten laps around the training yard, completed her sword drills, and rushed back just in time for breakfast.
Unlike someone who’d been primping in front of a mirror until the last minute.

Edna pouted and glared faintly at her sister.
Marianne, oblivious, continued in her shrill, impatient tone.

“Why hasn’t the ship come in yet?”

Oh, please. Anyone listening might think she was worried about business matters.
How touching—the eldest daughter fretting over trade shipments!
But Edna knew better. Marianne’s “concern” wasn’t for cargo or ships.

“Someone might think you’re worried about the family business,” Katrina said coldly, spoon in hand.
“Just eat your meal, Marianne.”

Marianne snapped back, voice rising.
“How can I not worry? It’s already two weeks past the arrival date!”

Her eyes were filled with anxiety. Under the table, her hands twisted her skirt nervously.
Edna, however, knew perfectly well that Marianne wasn’t worried about the trade ship itself.

“It’s not just the ship,” Marianne said, voice trembling. “Everyone on board is vital to Saluga’s operations!”

She sounded like she was about to give a speech.
If Edna hadn’t known her sister so well—hadn’t known her moods swung somewhere between mania and melancholy—she might almost have been moved.

Roderick, the eldest, finally spoke up as he dipped his spoon into his soup.
“Touching words, Marianne. But somehow I doubt your sincerity. The ship will return soon enough.
And if you’d only accept the Crown Prince’s proposal, it would return even faster.”

The ship had been anchored off an island near the harbor.
The Emperor had blocked its entry, claiming it might be carrying traitors plotting rebellion against the Empire.

Edna stared down at her soup, lost in thought.
She kept asking herself—where had it all gone wrong?
How had the thousand-year-old House of Saluga begun to crumble?

In the heart of the Empire’s capital, amid the glittering shops of Saint-Germain Street, stood an old building—the Whittakers’ trading company headquarters, Saluga’s main office.
In truth, Saint-Germain Street itself existed because of Saluga; the Empire’s economy revolved around it.

Saluga had existed long before the Empire.
The first Emperor could never have founded the Empire without the Whittakers’ support.
The only reason the family had stopped at the rank of Count was because they chose to.
Everyone in the Empire knew the Whittakers could have claimed a dukedom if they’d wanted.

And yet, the Whittakers were annihilated.
Saluga was reduced to ruins.
All because of Edna.

In every life before this one—the same result.
The fall of Saluga and the Whittaker family’s extinction had always been her fault.

But where had it started to go wrong?

The more she thought about it, the more unfair it seemed.
She had been an ordinary noblewoman, then a knight.
Yes, she had clung to the Crown Prince she loved—but who hasn’t done something foolish for love once in their life?
Wealth, honor, love—being Crown Princess symbolized all of it.
So why had every choice she made led to her family’s destruction?

That was why Edna made a vow.
This time, she would live differently.
Instead of wielding a sword and turning a blind eye to the world, she would cast the sword aside and open her eyes wide.
She would see—clearly, fully.
She would find out who had destroyed Saluga and annihilated the Whittakers.
And she would make them pay—dearly.

“I don’t want to marry the Crown Prince,” Marianne muttered sullenly.

She was in love with someone else.
If not for the Crown Prince’s sudden proposal, she could have married him easily enough.
But one day, out of nowhere, the Crown Prince had proposed.

“He must have some ulterior motive,” she added.

Of course he did.
Even minor nobles weighed profit and loss before marrying; there was no way the Crown Prince had proposed without a reason.
Marriage was business.
The family’s benefit came first—personal interest second.

And love?
Love could always be found outside marriage.
Among nobles and royalty, that was simply how things worked.
Having lovers on both sides was practically fashionable.
After all, these marriages had been arrangements of convenience.

Love?

How quaint.

But that quaintness—the Whittakers’ old-fashioned sense of honor—was perhaps why their line had perished so easily.

Edna looked at Marianne.
For all her sharp temper, Marianne was a beautiful young lady.
Her deep blue eyes, inherited from their father, shimmered darkly.
Those Whittaker-blue eyes were the siblings’ only shared trait.
Different mothers had given them entirely different looks, and even more different personalities.

“Of course he has an ulterior motive,” Roderick said casually, cutting into his steak.
“That’s why none of us are forcing you to marry him.”

Not forcing her, huh? Edna thought, shooting him a sideways glance.
Roderick looked thoroughly disinterested in all of it—understandably so.
He cared little for business or politics; as long as he had food and an endless supply of books, the rest of the world could burn for all he cared.
He likely just wanted Marianne to accept the proposal and be done with it.

“Enough, Marianne. Eat,” Katrina said, her voice cool.
At first glance, she sounded angry at Marianne’s whining, but Edna knew better.
Katrina’s anger was directed at the Crown Prince—at his arrogance in treating marriage like a business transaction.
Typical Whittaker sensibility—naïve, but noble in its way.

“It’ll be fine,” Edna said lightly, scooping up the last of her steak with sauce.
“The ship will be back soon.”

Marianne shot her a glare.
“What would you know, you clueless child? Just stay out of this! Things are serious!”

Edna smiled innocently.
“Two days ago, I went to that dessert shop in town, and they’d raised the price of coffee.
Of course, they sold it to me at the old price—but the owner said coffee shortages were starting in the capital, so he’d have to raise prices too.”

“And what does that have to do with our ship?”

“How does it not? If our ship doesn’t come in soon, coffee prices will skyrocket. We’ve already taken a big loss from that ship being held up for two weeks, but we can just raise our own prices to make up for it.
If we release the tea and coffee we’ve been storing in our warehouses, we’ll manage for now.
Let them rest there as long as they need.
And tell our newspapers to blame it all on the Imperial Court.”

Everyone at the table stared at her in stunned silence as Edna calmly scraped the last bit of sauce from her plate and popped the meat into her mouth.
Rich juices spread across her tongue, and a satisfied smile bloomed on her face.

What a taste… she could savor it forever.

In her previous life, Edna had volunteered to take her sister’s place and marry the Crown Prince.
Her family had opposed her decision fiercely, but she had stood firm.
It had been her one chance to fulfill an old, desperate love.
To her family, she had justified it as a chance to expand their business through royal influence.

The one who had opposed her most fiercely had been her stepmother, Katrina.
Edna had never seen her so angry in her life.

But in the end, Edna had become the Crown Prince’s fiancée.
And one by one, she had offered up her family’s businesses to the royal household.
Until, in the end, her stepmother, her brother, her sister, and even her brother-in-law and young nieces and nephews were all dead.

And always—always—it ended the same way:
with Edna’s betrayal.