YWTO 08

Chapter 8

The most vivid proof that Rosalyn had once truly existed in this world.
That was why Eurein could never allow herself to become a stain on Rosalyn’s legacy.
It was the best thing someone as talentless as she could do.

“They’re making all this fuss just because a mere maid was taken for questioning?”
And yet now, she was defending the one who might have stolen Rosalyn’s keepsakes.
“No one involved in this matter will escape unscathed,”
the Duke said in a voice as cold as frost.

Eurein gently shook her head and calmly replied,
“You’ve gone too far, Your Grace.”
“Too far? For taking her in for interrogation?”
The Duke gave a short, derisive laugh.

Everyone related to the incident had to be questioned so the truth could be uncovered.
He had already ordered the maid to be interrogated in the torture chamber.
Yes. Even torture would be justified if that’s what it took to find out what really happened.

“If necessary, I’ll have her tortured,”
the Duke said, picking up a document without even looking at Eurein.
It was a clear dismissal—an order to leave.
He assumed she would understand; after all, her one redeeming trait was quick wit.
His entire demeanor told her plainly:
“Don’t even think of meddling in matters beyond your worth.”

“You seem rather useless,”
he added coldly, glancing at her.

But Eurein didn’t leave.
She stood unmoving, as if nailed to the spot, a strange gleam flickering in her eyes.
Torturing someone whose guilt hasn’t even been proven…?
She let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

Ederon Tarbargen.
Born a commoner, he’d fought his way up through countless battlefields to earn nobility by merit,
and by marrying Rosalyn Tarbargen, he inherited the title of duke—
her own biological father.

Once an exceptional knight, he no longer led the front lines as he used to,
but traces of his prime still remained.
That was why she’d feared him—
the “old” Eurein, before she came back.

To the Duke, that Eurein had been weak, worthless.
He mourned Rosalyn, who had died because of “such a thing” as her.
Rosalyn, noble and wise, had been his entire world.
So he had lashed out at Eurein endlessly, as if denying her very existence.

And now again, he was belittling her.
Back then, she had let those words wound her deeply, blaming herself each time.
But the Eurein of now was different.
She no longer pitied herself as useless.

A faint, crooked smile touched her lips.
You know, the monsters were scarier than you ever were.

Who was she, after all? An SS-rank Guide.
Most guides would never dare step into an open Gate.
But she had gone in, supporting espers on the front lines.
She’d faced monsters—why should she fear a mere man’s temper?

In life, you only had to avoid the worst-case scenario.
Don’t fear the lesser evil—endure while keeping the worst in mind.
It might sound strange, but that had been her motto as a guide in Korea.

She suddenly recalled the monster that exhaled blue poison.
That thing was horrifying.
Even powerful espers had their flesh melted away if caught in its toxic fumes.
And she had survived battles like that.

Eurein pictured the creature—
toad-like, dripping that sickly blue venom.
Yes. Compared to that nightmare, a duke who couldn’t even spit poison wasn’t frightening at all.

Looking composed, she said,
“Dragging a witness away so harshly doesn’t reflect well on you, Your Grace.
The other servants will talk.”

The Duke cared deeply about his reputation.
A “noble knight”—but that was all he had, a commoner clinging to honor.
Knowing that, Eurein had struck where it hurt.

He hesitated, narrowing his eyes as he slowly lifted his gaze toward her.
His expression hardened as he glared, a heavy, oppressive aura filling the air.
That timid girl, daring to lecture him? It was infuriating.
So much for coddling her—she’s grown insolent beyond belief.

He had thought her meek, but clearly, he’d been wrong.
He was about to shout when—

“Rebecca is a noble.
Even by Imperial law, torture is strictly forbidden,
and even more so for someone of noble birth,”
Eurein said firmly, meeting his eyes.

The Duke faltered. She was right.
The maid, Rebecca, was technically of noble descent—
though from a ruined house barely existing in name.
That was why he’d had no qualms locking her up in the dungeon.
Still, torture was against the law, and he knew it.
Eurein had exposed his weak point perfectly.

“The keepsake was found in her room. That alone warrants investigation,”
he muttered, averting his gaze.

Once, the old Eurein would have fallen silent here—
but not this time.

“The keepsake found in Rebecca’s room was a forgery, Your Grace,”
she said, her voice rising slightly.

The Duke only laughed—a cold, hollow sound.
Then his face hardened again, filling the room with tension thick enough to choke on.

“A forgery, yes. A perfect imitation of the real thing.
And how could a mere fake be that perfect, I wonder?”
he hissed through clenched teeth,
his usual cold rationality nowhere to be found.

“Perhaps that girl, Rebecca, snuck into the keepsake vault,
stole the necklace, and—terrified—tried to return it later,”
he said.

Eurein tilted her head slightly, tapping her other hand with her fingertips—
unhurried, almost relaxed despite his anger.
Or rather, her expression seemed to say she couldn’t understand
why he was being so unreasonable.

“That makes no sense.
Would someone, out of fear, spend all that money and effort
to craft such a flawless replica?
Rebecca isn’t in any position to do something that elaborate, is she?”
Her tone was calm and measured,
but her gaze was unwavering, her posture confident—
her shoulders straight, her slender neck held high.

What’s this?
Only then did the Duke really look at her.
She was… different.

Her voice, once hesitant and mumbled,
was now clear and steady—soft, yet firm at the edges.
She didn’t flinch or blush; she spoke with conviction.
And in that moment, he saw someone else overlapping with her—
Rosalyn.

He’d thought of Rosalyn when looking at Eurein before,
but never had their images overlapped so completely.
Her poise, her quiet strength—it was Rosalyn’s, through and through.

Without realizing it, the Duke stared.
Eurein met his gaze, bowed her head slightly, and said politely,
“I never imagined Your Grace would be such a man.”

And with that, she gave a courteous nod, turned, and left.
She loathed pointless arguments like this—
he wasn’t worth her time.

Back in her room, Eurein sat at her table, tapping her fingers lightly.
Well, the Duke’s been obsessed with Mother for years. Nothing new.
Time to do what I have to do.

She hadn’t expected him to ever admit he was wrong anyway.
Still, saying my piece felt good.
After years of swallowing insults, finally speaking up felt like clearing a weight off her chest.
She shrugged.
Why had he ever seemed so formidable?
He was just a stubborn man, after all.

For the first time in this house, she had voiced her own opinion.
She used to be too timid to speak at all.

Eurein lightly patted her cheek.
What a strange feeling—almost exhilarating.
She’d never so clearly expressed herself in this life.
The Duke had always frightened her.
Her brothers had seemed too great to approach.
And her adopted sister, Ayla,
was the only Guide ever to receive a divine prophecy.

While she herself…
was merely the sinner who had caused her mother’s death—
a powerless, insignificant being.

But was she truly so worthless?
A smirk tugged at her lips.
No more. I won’t let anyone treat me that way again.