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Chapter 61

Even the finals would be different, but making it to the semifinals was already remarkable.

“I know you must be busy training for the semifinals… so thank you for making time,” I said.

Adonis, gently fiddling with the petals of the bouquet I’d given her, forced a smile.

“It’s nothing. Honestly, staying home is more uncomfortable.”

Of course it was.

Knowing Count Beatrice’s temper, he wouldn’t be sitting quietly.

She was probably enduring cold glares and silent judgment from every corner of her household.

“You really didn’t have to go this far,” she said.

Yet she couldn’t take her eyes off the flowers.

She looked like someone who had received a treasure they’d always longed for—a child with their first toy.

“If I’d known you’d like it this much, I would’ve brought flowers last time too.”

“You could tell?”

“Easily.”

I sipped my tea and nodded.

Her cheeks were pink, like rose petals, and her green eyes sparkled like they held raindrops.

Anyone could see how happy she was.

When I answered with such confidence, she grew shy and set the bouquet down, clearing her throat awkwardly.

It was refreshing to see her like this—less stiff, more vulnerable.

“I’ve never received a bouquet before.”

That stopped me cold.

“Not even for your academy entrance or graduation?”

She shook her head.

“Not even the knighting ceremony?”

The unspoken truth lingered.

Of course not. Count Beatrice had always resented her swordsmanship.

If he didn’t congratulate her for the academy, he surely ignored her becoming a knight.

She had probably never been celebrated at all.

No family, no relatives would dare go against the Count’s will.

“Lady Adonis.”

“Yes, my lady?”

Her emerald eyes looked at me—firm, steady.

She never showed sorrow or frustration. But that wasn’t strength—it was surrender. She had simply stopped expecting anything from them.

“Congratulations.”

When those words left my mouth, she visibly trembled.

“And… congratulations in advance. For winning the tournament.”

She chuckled nervously.

“If I lose, what then?”

“You won’t.”

“You think I’ll win?”

“You’re the first female to ever join the royal guard. And the youngest at that. No one else could win.”

Her flush deepened.

That mix of pride, disbelief, sadness, and something almost like relief—it all passed over her face.

“Feels… strange,” she whispered.

“What does?”

“Hearing you say that.”

She lowered her gaze. Her voice trembled slightly.

“I didn’t expect it to mean so much… but I’ve always wanted to hear someone say it.”

She sat straighter and looked at me directly.

She didn’t cry.

But the weariness and emptiness on her face said enough.

“You can hear it as many times as you want.”

“Yes… it’s something I could hear again and again.”

She had longed to hear it—from someone else. Likely her father. Or even her brother.

Not from me.

It was bittersweet—like the last bite of dark chocolate.

“At first, I wanted to do well because I liked it. Then, I trained hard because I wanted to be good. But eventually…”

She paused.

“I worked hard because I wanted recognition.”

“That’s not childish.”

“You don’t think it’s immature?”

“No. Wanting approval, especially from family, is natural.”

Her eyes glistened.

“I thought if I just tried hard enough… maybe I’d be acknowledged.”

I knew that feeling.

I once believed the same about Barak.

That if I studied alchemy, learned noble etiquette, maybe one day he’d look at me not as a substitute—but as Irina.

I thought the Duchess truly saw me.

But in the end, I was just a replacement to ease her broken mind. A sedative to help her cope.

When the Duke promised to adopt me at seventeen, I believed it was because he finally saw me as Irina, not April.

But then everything changed again when April returned.

“I lost it all,” I said softly. “But there was a time I thought… maybe they’d see me.”

“Even if it’s selfish… wanting recognition—isn’t that just human?”

I glanced at Adonis.

She didn’t cry.

And I was relieved.

Because I wouldn’t have known how to comfort her if she had.

“You’re the last person I expected to say all that,” she said.

“Was it too much, like when I visited the Beatrice estate?”

She shook her head, finally smiling—an open, clear smile.

I didn’t know if her joy came from my understanding, or from finally releasing what she had bottled up.

“But have you ever felt that way?” she asked.

Of course I had.

“I once thought… if I just tried harder, maybe they’d see me.”

Tried harder to be Irina.

Not April.

I remembered the Duchess telling me to call her “mother.” Not because she loved me, but because she couldn’t bear to lose April again.

It wasn’t adoption. It was replacement.

So when the Duke finally said he would formally adopt me, I mistook it for validation. That I was finally Irina—not April.

But once April returned, I realized…

None of that had mattered.

They hadn’t given me back the name Irina.

They hadn’t given me anything.

“All that… went to waste,” I said quietly.