Chapter 107
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 107
“Hasn’t the Countess already passed away?”
The Count remained silent, but even without an answer, Musetta knew her question had hit the mark.
Judging by the letter’s contents, it sounded as if the Countess’s ghost was wandering the third floor—an absurd notion. Was the woman not a witch, but simply mad?
As she turned the page, a small slip of paper tucked inside the notebook fluttered to the floor. When Musetta reached down to pick it up, the Count gasped and snatched it away with terrifying speed, shoving it into his pocket.
“What was that…?”
“It is not Evangeline’s letter. Do not concern yourself with it.”
The Count’s tone was firm, drawing a clear line.
“Now, why don’t you read the next page? You came for Lady Evangeline’s letters, not that note, did you not?”
A lingering unease settled over Musetta, but she averted her gaze. He claimed the note he had so hastily hidden wasn’t written by Evangeline Rohanson.
But why was it tucked away with her letters? And why was the word ‘Traitor’ scrawled across that entire page? Could a dead person truly write a letter?
Musetta forced herself to turn her attention back to the notebook. This was the final letter.
To Count Rohanson,
Father. Sir Gabriel has agreed to be my partner for the debutante ball. Surely you won’t interfere with the debut of a daughter who was once bedridden and on the verge of death? I will behave myself, so please do not worry.
From your daughter, Evangeline.
It was a well-known fact that Evangeline Rohanson had entered the banquet hall escorted by the Commander of the Pararos Knights. The only new detail she gleaned was the trivial fact that Gabriel himself had suggested it.
But the content didn't matter. Musetta’s only goal was to verify the handwriting.
“Lady Evangeline has excellent penmanship.”
She was referring to the calligraphy, not the composition. Evangeline’s writing was consistently elegant and neat. And it was identical to the handwriting on the letters found in Tenebrae’s room.
While a detailed analysis by an expert was still needed, for now, she could only conclude they were written by the same person.
Just then, a thought flashed through Musetta’s mind—a rumor that the real Evangeline Rohanson had died, and the Count, coveting Duke Hosaquin’s inheritance, had brought in a look-alike to take her place.
“Now that you have verified the handwriting, are we finished?” the Count asked, closely observing her reaction.
Tsk, knights are always so expressionless. It’s impossible to read them.
From Musetta’s face alone, it was impossible to tell if the handwriting matched. Just as the Count began to worry that this meager cooperation wouldn’t be enough to spare him from being implicated, Musetta spoke again.
“…About a year ago.”
“A year ago?”
“Or even before that. Has Lady Evangeline’s handwriting always been the same?”
It was a sudden, piercing question.
Recalling the rumors that circulated in high society, the Count understood the motive behind her inquiry but played it off with a casual shrug.
“I do not know why you ask such a thing, but since I have agreed to cooperate, I shall answer. Evangeline’s handwriting has never changed. It remained exactly the same even after she fully recovered from her severe illness.”
“Exactly the same?”
“Is that so strange? Do you also believe that rumor, Dame Musetta? That I brought in some puppet to replace my dead daughter? It is not so. She is indeed Evangeline Rohanson. Her handwriting, her habits, her dietary preferences—they are all identical.”
Whether Musetta believed him or not, everything the Count said was the absolute truth. During their very first meal together, the new Evangeline had eaten exactly like his daughter. No matter how many times he had scolded her, his daughter had always taken a sip of her drink before touching her food. This Evangeline followed that exact same pattern.
To think she could mimic a human so perfectly after only a few months. She was nothing like the girl I saw at the funeral.
“You still do not believe me? There should be a letter she wrote several years ago. It is likely at the Rohanson mansion, so I shall have my people search for it.”
With those final words, the Count dismissed Musetta.
A few days later, a letter arrived. The Count had kept his promise. As if to prove it wasn’t a hasty forgery, the paper carried the damp, musty scent of having been stored in a dark place for a very long time.
Musetta carefully read it.
To Count Rohanson,
Father. Mother says she is unwell. I wish to see her, even if only for a moment.
Your beloved.
The letter, which mentioned her biological mother’s illness, was incredibly short and detached. And just as the Count had said, the handwriting was strikingly identical. How many years ago had this been written? Given the mention of her mother, it must have been when the Countess was still alive.
When did Countess Rohanson pass away again?
According to Musetta’s investigation, the Countess had died seven years ago. That meant this letter was more than seven years old. Yet the paper looked far older, as if decades had passed. To be certain, Musetta sent a reply to the Count.
Count Rohanson. How many years ago did you receive this letter from Lady Evangeline?
The reply returned without much delay.
It must have been about ten years ago.
Ten years ago?
If so, the person who wrote this was a young girl not yet ten years old. No matter how early nobles began their education, could a child under ten develop such a mature calligraphic style and maintain it perfectly for over a decade? There was so little difference between the letters that one could easily believe they had been written only a day or two apart.
Yet the paper undoubtedly looked more than ten years old, and there was no tell-tale smudge of fresh ink to expose it as a forgery. Besides, Evangeline Rohanson was currently locked in a dungeon; she was in no position to write anything. Even if Count Rohanson had secretly requested it, she would never write a letter that would only tighten the noose around her own neck.
Musetta swallowed her doubts about Evangeline being replaced. At the very least, it seemed she hadn’t been swapped with another person. However, the unchanging handwriting was so bizarre that it suppressed her urge to rush straight to the dungeon and point her sword at Evangeline. A creeping dread of the unknown had begun to take root.
Yes. I must report this to His Majesty first.
With that thought as her justification, Musetta took the letter from Tenebrae's room and Evangeline's letters and went to see the Emperor.
* * *
“Your Majesty. Dame Musetta, who served as the late Crown Prince’s escort, requests an audience.”
“Very well. She must have found some crucial evidence.”
As if he had been waiting, the Emperor dismissed the others in the room. No matter how many nobles’ family members were dying, it was not as critical as the assassination of the Crown Prince. Thus, despite their internal grumbling, the nobles withdrew without a word.
“I greet His Majesty the Emperor.”
“Rise.”
Musetta knelt before the Emperor to pay her respects.
“So, I assume there has been some progress in the investigation?”
Musetta immediately reported her findings. She explained everything: how she had discovered a secret compartment in Tenebrae’s room containing a spellbook and letters, how the author of those letters had instigated Tenebrae, and how the handwriting was identical to Evangeline Rohanson’s.
After listening to Musetta’s report and reading through all the letters, the Emperor’s brow furrowed deeply.
As expected, His Majesty also views this matter with gravity.
However, the Emperor’s reaction was entirely different from what Musetta had anticipated. It was not Evangeline he was displeased with, but Musetta herself.
“These are merely love letters, Dame Musetta,” the Emperor declared firmly.
“Pardon? Your Majesty…!”
“Dame Musetta. Did I not just say? These are merely love letters.”
She had forced the Emperor to repeat himself. The gaze he leveled at her was freezing. In that instant, Musetta realized she had crossed a line.
The Emperor rebuked her. “Dame Musetta. Did I not tell you to put aside your doubts regarding Lady Evangeline?”
Musetta couldn’t understand. Evangeline Rohanson was the culprit who had deceived Tenebrae and led her to her death. And wasn’t it Gabriel, the knight associated with House Rohanson, who had captured Tenebrae? Those two had manipulated Tenebrae and driven her to her demise, yet she was being told to remain silent?
“…Your Majesty. Why are you shielding Evangeline Rohanson?”
The Emperor did not deign to answer. Demanding an answer from the Emperor was, in itself, a grave transgression, but Musetta was too consumed to realize it. Before the deaths of Tenebrae and the Crown Prince—or rather, if Tenebrae at least had not died—Musetta would never have dared to act so insolently.
But she had lost two members of the Imperial Family while doing her duty, and she was drowning in guilt.
She had a suspicion. Gabriel, who had brought back Tenebrae’s corpse, had held a private audience with the Emperor that lasted for hours. Whatever had transpired between them, the Emperor’s attitude toward the investigation had turned lukewarm ever since. It was clear some sort of deal had been struck.
Unconcerned with Musetta’s feelings, the Emperor changed the subject.
“We will pretend we never saw these. She is already the subject of countless rumors; we cannot afford to add a scandal about Tenebrae secretly exchanging letters behind our backs. Dame Musetta, does anyone else know of this besides you?”
Musetta nodded. There were the subordinates who had discovered the letters, and those she had sent to the Rohanson mansion to retrieve the others. When she answered, the Emperor decided their fate with a single sentence.
“Ensure they keep their mouths shut. This matter must not leak out, under any circumstances.”