Chapter 89
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 89
Look at her. What a pathetic state. How irritating.
“She’s been loitering in front of the exhibition hall since this morning, looking like she wanted to come in. So I brought her inside and decided to show her around myself.”
“You’ve worked so hard all day, My Lady. Greeting guests, giving tours… We keep telling you there’s no need, but you do this for every exhibition.”
As her quick-witted friend chimed in, Sabine tugged on Oscar’s arm, signaling that they should head inside. But unlike the woman from before, who had meekly followed her lead, her half-brother didn’t budge.
Sabine glanced up to urge him on, but the unreadable look on his face gave her pause. Oscar remained motionless until the woman’s companion—whom Sabine had presumed had fled—finally made an appearance. Only then did he move.
As he suddenly started walking, Sabine clung tighter to her brother’s arm and matched his stride.
“If I’d known you were coming, Brother, I would have worn a different dress. Then I could have worn the necklace you bought me.”
Sabine spoke in a playfully whining tone. It wasn’t the kind of behavior expected of a mature woman—especially one slated to be the next queen—in such a public place. But the rules were different when the target of her whining was Oscar.
“Brother, I was so upset that you didn’t come to my birthday. You know that, right?”
Sabine called Oscar “Brother” regardless of the time or place. She had never once addressed him as “Your Excellency, Marquis Reinhardt.”
Taste, habitus…
No matter how many times she put such things on display, it couldn’t compare to the simple act of calling Oscar “Brother” and acting spoiled. The moment she behaved like this, she ceased to be the illegitimate child of the Marchioness of Reinhardt; she became a princess holding both Jerome and Reinhardt in the palm of her hand.
“I was really, really hurt.”
After all, she was the only person in Luxen who could act this spoiled with Oscar.
Of course, what Oscar actually thought of it was another matter entirely.
He let out a dry laugh at his half-sister, who bore a terrifying resemblance to their mother. If it were possible, he wished he could learn her effortless hypocrisy. He knew Sabine’s true face all too well.
Slowly, he pulled his arm from her grasp. Fluster flashed across Sabine’s cunning face, quickly followed by the coldness of her true nature.
“Congratulations. It’s impressive.”
A cold wind that had no business being indoors seemed to swirl between the half-siblings.
Oscar smirked at the brief glimpse of Sabine’s true face and walked toward a place he had sworn he would never set foot in. Passing under the Lily Arch, he entered an exhibition hall that looked as if an entire outdoor garden had been transplanted inside. Unlike the others who gasped in awe, the mockery in Oscar’s eyes only deepened.
The sheer amount of money poured into this hall was proportional to the scale of Sabine’s inferiority complex—just as the wealth he had amassed was proportional to the scale of his own rage.
The heavy scent of perfume, combined with the pungent, suffocating smell of lilies, was nauseating. With every breath, it felt as though a damp poison was seeping into his brain.
“It is an honor to meet you, Your Excellency. I heard the news that you’ve extended the railway line.”
“Truly remarkable. The connection to the south…”
“Brother, look at this. Don’t you think the energy radiating from this piece is incredible?”
With every step he took, a swarm of people crowded him, babbling about one meaningless thing after another. He might have humored them in the State Council chamber, but here, he had neither the reason nor the energy to do so.
Who was the idiot who had crawled into this disillusioning place of his own free will? What on earth was he hoping for, wasting his time and energy standing among these parasites?
He hadn't even made it halfway around the room before his pace slowed. Instantly, everyone trailing behind him came to a halt.
Seizing the opportunity, Eric von Richard approached.
“Your Excellency.”
Oscar’s gaze drifted toward him. The first thing he noticed was the man’s slicked-back, pomaded hair, then the pathetic, sycophantic smile plastered on his face in a desperate bid to curry favor.
Yet, just a few minutes ago, Oscar had seen this bastard’s dark, insidious true colors.
“You fucking bitch!”
The filthy insult, dripping with malice, echoed in his mind like a phantom. Inside his pocket, Oscar’s fist clenched.
The woman, who hadn’t been able to utter a single word of protest, had looked completely different from the last time he saw her.
On her panic-stricken face, the first thing he’d noticed were her torn, bruised lips. Her entire appearance was just as wrecked. Her clothes were disheveled, and her hair…
The red ribbon barely clinging to the ends, the fine strands haloing her face in a messy cloud. Her hair had been in as much disarray as it was on his bed last night.
It seemed she had been running away.
Running away.
There was nothing threatening here. At most, there were only empty husks of people wandering about, putting on a pathetic show of refinement to win Sabine’s favor.
“Meeting Your Excellency today must be the greatest stroke of luck I’ve had all year.”
In other words, a mere nobody like this.
“…Is that so?”
A pathetic bastard like you.
Oscar pulled one hand from his pocket and placed it on Eric’s shoulder. Eric von Richard immediately began to gush, his face flushed with emotion.
“Yes, Your Excellency!”
A mere piece of trash like you.
Oscar quietly tightened his grip on the man’s shoulder. Though his eyes were fixed on Eric, a different image played out in his mind.
A waist pressed against a railing overlooking a dizzying drop. A red ribbon fluttering in the empty air.
Instead of running toward the stairs where he stood, that foolish woman had leaned against a railing where a fall meant certain death.
A terrifying amount of force surged into the hand gripping Eric’s shoulder.
“…Ugh!”
She had the audacity to say she wanted to stay by his side, begged him not to send her away, and even pressed her lips to his—yet she let a pathetic bastard like this corner her like prey. With only two ways out, she should have chosen either the cliff or Oscar von Reinhardt. But Han Seo-ah had chosen the damn cliff.
“Y-Your Excellency…”
The insect’s face twisted into an ugly grimace.
Oscar spat out cold, biting words.
“I’m just pleased to see you.”
“Pardon? Ah, yes! I-I am glad to see you too, Your Excellency!”
Seeing him force a joyful smile through the agonizing, bone-crushing pain in his shoulder, a sneer bubbled up from the depths of Oscar’s chest.
When Oscar laughed, Eric and everyone else surrounding them quickly read the room and laughed along.
They were all pathetic fools.
But he himself, standing here doing this, was the most ridiculous of all. He had come all this way out of concern for her, only to do nothing and leave her in Abel’s hands again.
Oscar released his crushing grip. Then, instead of heading further into the exhibition, he turned back toward the Lily Arch. The crowd watched in stunned silence as the Marquis abruptly walked away.
“Brother? Are you leaving already?”
Snapping out of her daze, Sabine hurriedly chased after him. But Oscar strode forward, never once looking back.
“Then at least tell me which piece you like. I’ll have it sent to you.”
“No need.”
“Don’t be like that. If you don’t choose, I’ll just pick something and send it anyway.”
“…”
“Ah, Brother!”
Sabine whined loudly, but Oscar had no desire to tolerate her hypocrisy or the nauseating stench of this place for a second longer.
However, the moment he stepped past the arch, he ground to a sudden halt. An unexpected figure stood before him.
“Oscar.”
His mother.
At the sight of her, Oscar’s expression hardened into a terrifying mask. Just then, Sabine, who had been trailing behind, spotted their mother and let out a joyful cry, rushing past him.
“Mother!”
Her heavy skirts fluttering, Sabine ran and threw herself into her mother’s arms like a spoiled child.
“Mother, why are you so late? Do you know how long I’ve been waiting?”
Charlotte kissed her daughter’s forehead.
“I’m sorry I’m late, Sabine.”
It was a truly touching reunion. Watching the scene with cold eyes, Oscar’s gaze locked with Charlotte’s.
He had truly made a massive fool of himself today. Oscar hesitated for a brief moment, then turned to leave, but an unexpected voice stopped him.
“Your Excellency, is your hand…”
At Eric von Richard’s words, everyone’s eyes darted to Oscar’s hand. The Marquis, who for some reason wore black gloves, had one hand hanging loosely at his side. As their gazes converged on it, a single drop clinging to the fingertip fell to the floor.
Eric approached, staring at the blood smeared on his own palm.
“Your Excellency.”
He had been rubbing the shoulder Oscar had gripped, only to be startled by the blood on his hand. He’d quickly checked his vest, but there were no stains on his white shirt. It wasn’t his blood.
“Have you injured your hand?”
The Dowager Marchioness, still holding her daughter, also looked down at Oscar’s hand. But Oscar offered no reply, simply shoving his hand back into his pocket.
As it vanished, the onlookers raised their heads in unison, as if spellbound, to look at the Marquis’s face.
His handsome features, which could at times show a boyish charm, were frozen in a cold, impenetrable mask—the face of a man who wouldn’t bleed even if pricked. A chilling ruthlessness, one that cared nothing for his own blood let alone another’s, shimmered around him like a heat haze.