Chapter 8
That evening, Juju was dining in the Grand Duke’s estate dining hall with Ruslan.
As the acting Grand Duke, Ruslan sat at the head of the table, while Juju, playing the role of his cherished lover, sat beside him, performing her role convincingly.
It didn’t require much effort—dressed in fine clothes, enjoying good food, and conversing with the count was enough to make the maids lined along the walls glance over with envy.
While elegantly slicing his steamed trout, Ruslan began, “It’s rather unseemly that you’re always wearing old clothes. When we reach the capital, I’ll arrange for new ones.”
“Really? I’m curious about this year’s fashions.”
“I’ll make sure they send a catalog. Anything in particular you like? Desserts, hobbies? I’ll accommodate whatever I can.”
“Not picky—I enjoy meat, I’m skilled at dancing, and I can do anything to pass the time. But I don’t care for reading, chess, or card games.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. As much as I’d like to teach you the joys of vegetables or the intricacies of strategy, I’ll hold back. I aspire to be a man who respects his lover’s tastes.”
Such gallantry—this was almost like a child’s game of make-believe. Where on earth had he learned these courtly manners?
Suppressing a laugh, Juju took a buttered mushroom and popped it into her mouth. She hadn’t cared for mushrooms before, but her tastes had changed; anything that wasn’t contaminated with sawdust or filth tasted delicious.
A strange feeling came over her. Buttered mushrooms had once been Emperor Albert’s favorite dish as a child.
‘Back then, I adjusted my tastes to suit Albert.’
She’d forced herself to read poetry he liked, tried to enjoy mushrooms just because he did. His friends became her friends, as well.
It must have been laughable to her former colleagues. To them, Charlotte had likely seemed less like a person and more like an extension of Albert.
As soon as he cast her aside, they all turned their backs on her too.
‘Just wait. Once I get free of this place, I’ll show them what real pain is.’
Stabbing her fork into the layered mille-feuille that had been brought out for dessert, Juju felt a boiling urge to storm the palace and exact her revenge.
Watching her, Ruslan spoke up as if in passing. “Today’s mille-feuille has rowan berries in it.”
“Oh? Not raspberries?”
“The jam’s made from northern rowan berries. Try it in tea; it’s calming.”
“….”
Did he sense her mood, or was he simply playing the part of a concerned lover?
With mixed emotions, Juju unscrewed the jar of jam he’d handed her. She scooped out a small spoonful, let it dissolve in her tea, and raised the cup to her lips, catching the warm aroma.
As she sipped, an unfamiliar tartness filled her mouth. The flames of her anger, which had been threatening to explode, gradually subsided, leaving her feeling oddly comforted.
“It’s the taste of the North. Does it suit you?”
“…Yes. So, this is how it’s meant to be enjoyed.”
After a slight hesitation, Juju added, “Thanks. For showing me.”
“No need.”
Their cozy dessert time was suddenly interrupted when the dining room door swung open.
“Are you two enjoying your little chat over dinner?”
Startled, Juju looked up to see a girl with curly black hair and red eyes trudging into the dining room.
It was Grand Duchess Dorothea, her face twisted in displeasure as she threw herself down at the opposite end of the long table, glaring alternately at Ruslan and Juju.
‘I heard she barely ever leaves her room—why is she here?’
Recalling the staff’s gossip, Juju considered the situation.
It was true; recently, the siblings’ relationship had been strained.
Currently, the relationship between the Grand Duchess and Count Keitel was strained.
The rightful heir to House Licht was Dorothea, the Grand Duchess’s only daughter. But at just sixteen and of frail health, she had little control over the family. Ruslan, as the adopted son and an adult, held the reins of power.
This alone was a sensitive issue for Dorothea, but after the attempted poisoning, she had begun to openly distrust him.
Her favorite maid had collapsed from poison—anyone could see that Dorothea had been the original target. Haunted by the fear that she might die as suddenly as her mother had, she grew increasingly suspicious.
And then, to her dismay, the maid who barely survived the poisoning was suddenly Count Ruslan’s lover.
Knowing this, Juju had deliberately avoided Dorothea. She didn’t want to provoke her unnecessarily, and there was also a sense of guilt in deceiving someone who had once been close to the original owner of this body.
Dorothea, who had burst into the dining room, seemed to have come with a determined resolve.
Ruslan, stirring his tea leisurely, greeted her. “It’s unusual to see you come out for dinner. Did you manage to take a nap today?”
“I came out to remind everyone who the real heir of this house is, in case they forgot!”
Dorothea’s tone was biting, but Ruslan remained calm.
“That’s quite a noble sense of duty. No need to rush; take care of your health until you’re ready to assume the title.”
“Just because you’re a few years older, you play the acting Duke! I hate you!!”
Dorothea’s anger boiled over, and she slammed her fist on the table, but immediately after, she covered her mouth and burst into a fit of coughing. A nearby maid hurried to her side.
“Breathe deeply, Miss. Inhale, exhale…”
“Leave me alone! Ruslan, you think I’m helpless? The doctor told me the truth. He said it was you who sent that teapot!”
At that moment, a servant with a grave expression brought in an elderly man and had him kneel on the floor.
Dorothea, seething, glanced sharply at Juju.
“Why are you sitting there, Juju?! You’re supposed to be my maid!”
Juju instinctively froze, her hand hovering over her plate. But before she could respond, Dorothea continued.
“She suspected something was wrong, so she grabbed the first cup and drank it herself! And you call this ‘treatment,’ taking her away and manipulating her? I heard everything—Linde told me! You even let her sleep in the room next to yours!”
“Miss, please calm down. You’ll have another attack!”
“Why did you pretend to grieve at Mother’s funeral? You tried to kill me! As if I’d ever let the House of Licht fall into your hands!!”
Dorothea’s shouting turned into harsh coughing, her shoulders rising and falling with each gasp as the maid wrapped an apron over her face to help her catch her breath.
Ruslan simply looked down at his teacup, his expression unreadable. Then he slowly turned to Semyon and instructed him.
“Escort the young lady back to her room. She’s having disturbing thoughts in the wake of her mother’s death. Pay the doctor a fine and send him on his way.”
“You should leave this house!”
“Oh, I will, soon enough. Whether you say it or not, I’m planning to depart in a few days.”
“What?”
Ruslan glanced to the back of the room, gesturing with his eyes. Semyon stepped forward to clarify.
“We received a message recently. A prisoner from the Ice Prison escaped but died in the cold. We managed to retrieve the body, but they slaughtered a guard during the escape. As you know, that prisoner’s name was…”
Dorothea recoiled into the maid’s arms.
“Charlotte, the Villainess!”
“Yes, indeed. Even a terrifying villainess can’t withstand a blizzard. The Ice Prison is under imperial jurisdiction, but as it’s located in the North, we have the responsibility to report the incident and manage the aftermath.”
“That’s why we’re heading to the capital. Considering your health, it’s unthinkable for you to make such a long journey.”
Dorothea clenched her teeth, her face flushed with indignation.
“Then don’t ever come back.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I intend to establish myself in the capital.”
“And stay out of the estate’s affairs! You don’t even know what our uncle looked like!”
“Of course. I’m sure my wise sister will carry on Mother’s legacy perfectly well.”
Ruslan suddenly reached out, pulling Juju onto his lap in one swift motion.
She found herself seated in his arms, his hand sliding up to cup her cheek. It was a surprisingly bold move for him.
“But I will be taking your maid with me.”
“Are you insane?!”
“She chose it herself.”
“Juju!”
Dorothea’s voice wavered slightly as she spoke Juju’s name.
She wore an expression that seemed to cling to a last sliver of hope, unwilling to believe the reality.
A strange pity stirred in Juju, or rather, in Charlotte’s soul within her. The memories of tending to the sick young girl weren’t hers, but they felt real nonetheless.
But Juju was no longer the same maid she’d once been.
Better to sever this bond for good.
Juju pulled Ruslan’s fingers toward her lips and bit them lightly. Letting out a delighted sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“No going back on your word, then.”
“Do you doubt me? The moment we arrive, I’ll call for the finest tailor. I’ll make you the most dazzling woman in the capital.”
Though Ruslan’s hand moved slower than his words, he soon trailed his fingers through her hair and down her back. Pretending to bask in his attention, Juju flashed a sweet, victorious smile at Dorothea, who stood frozen in shock.
“I’m sorry, my lady. The Count wants me by his side.”
“You…!”
“I don’t think I could live without him now. He’s shown me so much love every night…”
“You fool!!”
Dorothea turned and fled the dining room.
Only later did Juju hear that Dorothea had collapsed in her room, sobbing.
Juju felt a twinge of sympathy for the girl. Whatever the truth, to an outsider, it looked like a stepsibling stealing the family away from her.
For a girl who had just lost her mother, it must have been unbearable.
“But in reality, you’re taking the Grand Duchess out of the Emperor’s sights, aren’t you? With you in charge, he won’t give a shadowy figure like her any thought.”
On the day of their departure, Juju finally voiced her question.
Ruslan, who was inspecting the carriage, replied with a slight smile.
“It’s merely a way to freely use the estate’s funds.”
“Must be exhausting to play the villain. You’re fine with being hated?”
Ruslan’s expression grew solemn.
“…She’s a child my benefactor left in my care. Better for someone like me, with nothing, to bear the sins than her.”
A breeze ruffled Ruslan’s dark hair. Though the color was a ruse to blend in, it suited him well.
Even as they held hands and played lovers, Juju felt that this man was the polar opposite of her—she, driven by revenge, and he, quietly bearing his burdens.
‘He’s like snow.’
Even cloaked in black, he carried the scent of distant winters.
As the carriage prepared to depart, a man from the estate’s stables ran over.
“C-Count Keitel! My lord!”
“What is it? Time is short.”
The stable hand bowed hastily and replied, “If I could be so bold, might I accompany you? I’ve always dreamed of seeing the capital… And though there are many stable hands, one more would make the journey easier, wouldn’t it?”
In that moment, Juju’s suspicions clicked into place.
Ruslan had deliberately positioned himself as someone who’d benefit from the Grand Duchess’s death. He had pretended to target Dorothea.
It was all to mislead the true culprit into thinking he was an accomplice.
「The doctor you sent told me the truth. You sent that teapot!」
Ah.
「They’d have three choices: flee, find allies, or both.」
If Dorothea’s interrogation of the doctor, and the timing of their departure, had all been planned…
“It’s a long journey, and more people complicate things.”
“Please, my lord! I’ll make myself useful!”
Ruslan finally gave in with a sigh. “Then join us. There won’t be any extra meals for you, though.”
The stable hand gratefully joined them.
As the carriage door closed, Juju leaned toward Ruslan and asked quietly, “When do we kill him?”
Ruslan looked slightly surprised, then smirked.
“Perhaps when we cross Mount Gwynt.”
No wonder he didn’t need extra meals.
The curtain had lifted on their revenge. Once it started, there would be no mercy.
Emperor Albert walked down the expansive corridors of the imperial palace.
Built to honor the former emperor’s founding of the empire, the palace was adorned in gleaming gold, a testament to unparalleled achievements.
As the emperor’s successor, Albert should have been striding confidently, but today his steps were heavy, burdened.
Arriving in the secret meeting room, he glanced around at those gathered.
As promised, everyone was present. These were his closest confidants, known as the “Four Heroes,” who had supported him since his days as a prince.
Albert, somber, called each of them by name.
“Irene, Pascalina, Jonathan, Dietrich. I appreciate you coming. I’ve summoned you here because unexpected news has reached us.”
The four looked attentively at the emperor.
Albert took a steadying breath and said, “Lotte is dead.”
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