True Nobility
It all began to unravel from that moment. Esmeralda wanted to raise the child herself, and I needed an heir of my own. You know how it was, Ishtel. My wife and I went years without conceiving.
“Why didn’t you simply take the child? She was nothing but a poor dancer. If you had truly wanted to, there was no reason you couldn’t have seized her.”
“Esmeralda would never have given the child up. And I had no desire to stir up trouble. You know how Regentra and Lilche have always shunned children born to concubines. If the matter grew too large, the world would learn that my only bloodline was a bastard.”
The Count and Countess of Silanda had been married more than ten years without producing a child.
When noble houses faced the threat of a broken succession due to infertility, they usually chose one of two paths. The first was to adopt a relative’s child. The second was to take a concubine and secure an heir through her.
The first option was followed when the family head himself was infertile. The second was used when the wife could not bear children.
In recent years, however, the number of families choosing the second path had visibly dwindled. The shift had begun slowly after the end of the Regentra civil war.
Fabiel Regentra’s birth mother, Melanie, had originally been a concubine to the Duke of Regentra. The Marchioness of Lilche publicly blamed the entire concubine system for the war and condemned it at every opportunity.
She denounced not only those nobles who kept concubines despite having a legitimate wife and heir, but also those who took concubines when they had no children at all. Central nobles eager to remain in politics had no choice but to dismiss their concubines to avoid offending her.
The Marchioness of Lilche always held the Silanda couple up as the perfect model of noble marriage. They had never caused a single scandal in their long union, and despite their childlessness, they had never once considered a concubine.
The Count had declared that if no child arrived, he would adopt one of his nephews to continue the family line. Every noble—especially the noblewomen—had showered his decision with praise and support.
When Rubia was finally born, everyone rejoiced and said heaven itself had been moved by the Count’s devotion to his wife.
It was a flawless household. A wise father soon to become Prime Minister, a scholarly mother from a distinguished house, and a healthy young daughter.
The Silanda estate was the envy of all. I, too, had felt a quiet pride watching my in-laws’ happy home, never realizing that happiness had been built on someone else’s sacrifice.
“So you killed the dancer. Once she was gone, all your secrets would stay buried?”
I felt a disappointment so profound it had no name. A hollow, crushing despair settled in my chest.
I had always admired Count Silanda since childhood. He had been clever and unusually broad-minded for his age. I had followed him more closely than my own brother, and I had been genuinely delighted when he became part of our family.
But the man before me now was not the person I remembered. Far from reflecting on his sins, he was merely a coward rationalizing his crimes.
“You killed her because she was a remnant of the rebels? Don’t lie to me. You wanted the child. When you learned the dead woman had borne Fabiel’s descendant, you decided poisoning her was acceptable!”
“What…?”
“Am I wrong? By that logic, Rubia—the child the rebel bore—is also Fabiel’s descendant, isn’t she? Go ahead and accuse her of the same crime as her mother!”
“Watch your tongue, Ishtel! Rubia is my daughter!”
“She is also the daughter of a dead dancer! Stop spouting these contradictions. It turns my stomach to listen.”
Unable to contain myself any longer, I shouted at the Count. My voice rang through the entire prison, and he fell silent for a moment. His distorted gray eyes rolled over me, studying me coldly, before he let out a low chuckle.
“You’re too soft, Ishtel. Our three families stand on the brink of catastrophe, yet instead of thinking how to overcome it, you waste time deciding who is right and who is wrong. Isn’t it past time you discarded that useless sense of justice and morality?”
“…You speak of all this so calmly. Without the slightest sign of remorse.”
“Remorse? Yes, I do regret one thing. I regret sparing the younger sister after killing the elder. I should have removed them both at the same time and left no future trouble behind.”
Count Silanda curled the corner of his lip in a bitter smile and muttered the words.
“On the surface you appear so very noble, but the more one knows you, the stranger you become. My head is already full enough. I have no strength left to deal with you. Go back.”
The Count stepped away from the bars, returned to his bed, and leaned back against the wall. I stared at him and spat out a single sentence before rising.
“You, Count, are truly the very picture of nobility.”
By the time I left the prison, night had already grown deep. I walked through the vast palace gardens with a wide-brimmed hat pulled low to conceal my face.
My heart feels strange.
The exhaustion from a day that had raged like a storm now crashed over me. Meeting Illid and strolling through the aviary, encountering Hellion—it all felt distant, as though it had happened in a previous life. A stone seemed to rest on my chest, and every step I took was leaden.
I opened a small door and slipped back into the palace. Even the servants had retired for the night. I picked up a small lantern left by the entrance and walked slowly. My body swayed with the same weary rhythm as the flickering light.
“Oh my, is that not the Duchess of Wintera? What brings you out alone at such a late hour?”
A gentle voice floated from behind me. I turned the lantern toward the sound. Karina was stepping through the same small side door I had used moments earlier.
“You’re also wandering alone late at night. You received a baroness title—surely you have maids now.”
“Seeing us both walking unaccompanied, it seems neither of us can speak of our reasons. In that case, I’ll speak first. I am returning from Pleco Square. I was meeting friends who will provide testimony. And you, Duchess?”
“I don’t recall agreeing to answer.”
“How cold. Then shall I guess? You’ve come from the prison near the palace, haven’t you? Did you meet Count Silanda?”
I was utterly drained from the unexpected day. I had no strength left to exchange words with anyone.
Yet I could not ignore Karina. I pulled the hat brim lower to avoid her eyes and gave a short nod.
“How was the Count? Did he rage at me? Or threaten that he would never let this go? Regret… no, he wouldn’t feel that. If he were the sort to feel remorse, he would never have poisoned my sister in the first place.”
I could not bring myself to speak at once. The emotion I had read in the Count’s eyes had been pure displeasure—the awkwardness of his situation, the discomfort, and the burden of having to resolve it.
I was not insensitive enough to relay his exact attitude to Karina.
“Why do you say nothing? Could it be that Count Silanda actually showed regret?”
“He didn’t say much. Only that he would stand in court and defend himself.”
“Ha, how utterly shameless. What could he possibly defend? I expected it, yet seeing it unfold exactly as predicted still leaves me speechless.”
Karina’s golden eyes burned with fierce anger. I deliberately avoided meeting her gaze.
She believed every word I had spoken. She would likely never learn the true attitude the Count had displayed.
To Karina, this was an incident she had revealed to the world at the risk of her life. To the Count, it was merely an annoying task to be finished quickly. The attitudes of victim and perpetrator were that different.
“You must prepare thoroughly. If you show even the slightest opening, they will strike back, and you could lose your life.”
“Oh my, are you threatening me? Or is this a concerned warning in advance?”
A faint, tired smile touched Karina’s lips. In any other moment I might have thought she was teasing me, but the atmosphere held no playfulness. She seemed to be asking out of genuine curiosity.
“It is neither threat nor worry. I merely stated the truth.”
“I see. I allowed myself a small hope, but it was foolish of me.”
Karina continued in a quiet, even voice.
“I am not afraid of losing my life. From the moment I came to see you, Duchess, I had already accepted death. What I truly fear is failing to complete my revenge properly.”
“And after your revenge is done, what will you do then?”
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
From the first time we met, Karina had been an uncomfortable presence. I was not kind enough to worry about her future. Yet suddenly I found myself wondering what thoughts carried her through each day.
“I have never considered it.”
“Never…?”
“No. I have never lived while picturing a future, so I cannot say.”
It was a difficult answer for someone like me, who had always walked a predetermined path.
Duchess of Regentra, Crown Princess, Empress, and perhaps even Empress Dowager. The highest station had always been promised to me. A future would arrive whether I struggled for it or not.
I regretted asking the pointless question. The entire walk through the dark palace, guided only by the small lantern, left my heart heavy.
“Then I will take my leave here. I shall see you in court later.”
Karina offered a polite bow and turned toward her quarters. I watched her receding figure in silence. Today, of all days, I found it impossible to look directly at her face.