Chapter 114
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 114
Unless Duke Hosaquin had a sudden change of heart and decided to star in a tearful family reunion drama with me, this was likely my last visit to the duchy. Since I was already here, I figured I might as well squeeze every last drop of information out of this place.
I was going to search the Countess's room thoroughly. She probably hadn't stayed at the Duke's estate after I was born, so searching it was unlikely to reveal the secret of my birth. But that wasn't the only secret I was after.
This was the perfect opportunity to find out why a demon-summoning circle had appeared in the Countess's diary.
“Lady Amaranth’s room has not been properly maintained, so it is in no condition for you to stay,” Rico said, politely but firmly blocking my way. “Lately, the mansion has had a problem with rats… Please, allow me to guide you to a room more befitting of Lady Rohanson.”
A formidable opponent. Truly. I never expected to meet my match here at my maternal family’s estate, especially when we weren't in high society and I wasn't even wearing a dress. When I got home, I’d have to tell Doline that sometimes, a true master of social combat doesn't even need a fan.
“Shall we go inside and talk first?” Rico glanced at the time, her anxiety palpable as she tried to usher me indoors. The Duke had already disappeared inside without a backward glance, while I had been lingering outside for far too long.
As I started to follow her, a desperate voice cried out from behind. It wasn't calling for me, but the sheer, heart-wrenching desperation in the sound made me turn.
“My child! My child!”
An elderly woman, dressed in a bright, heavily ruffled gown better suited to a young girl in her prime, threw her parasol aside and ran toward me. She pulled me into a fierce hug, her grip shockingly strong, filled with a desperate determination never to let me go again.
“You’re not angry with me anymore, are you?”
“…Lady Agera.”
Rico stared at the old woman holding me, her expression one of utter dismay. Agera? I’d heard that name before. A quick search of my memory placed it alongside Duke Hosaquin’s.
“The Duchess…?”
“Don’t call me by such a distant title.”
As I suspected, she was the Duchess of Hosaquin.
In other words, the elderly woman before me was Evangeline's grandmother and Amaranth's mother. The Duchess slowly released me from her embrace, but as if unwilling to break contact, she immediately seized my hand. Her grip was so tight it felt like the bones might crack, an unbelievable strength for a woman her age.
At first, I wondered if she was welcoming me so warmly because she remembered Evangeline as a child, but then I realized something was terribly wrong.
“Amaranth. Aren’t you going to call me Mother anymore?”
The Duchess was mistaking her granddaughter for her daughter. No matter how much Evangeline resembled the late Countess, a mother wouldn't normally confuse her own deceased child with her grandchild. I no longer needed Duke Hosaquin to explain my “usefulness.”
From her age-inappropriate clothes that suggested she was trapped in the past, to her manic excitement, to calling me Amaranth as if her dead daughter were still alive—it was clear the Duchess was suffering from dementia.
And if she believed her daughter was still alive, I was expected to play the part.
“My child, is it so hard to call me Mother?”
I hadn't even brought myself to call the Countess "Mother" yet. As I hesitated, unable to form the word, the Duchess offered a compromise.
“It makes sense, since we abandoned you first. It’s alright, Mother understands. Until you feel comfortable, just calling me Agera is enough.”
“…Yes, Lady Agera.”
Hearing my reply, the Duchess smiled like a little girl. I didn't bother correcting her. The Duke had brought me here to pretend to be Amaranth, after all.
While Agera clung to me, giddy with excitement, the maids who served her finally rushed over. Rico glared at them, her voice dropping to an icy bark.
“This wasn’t on Lady Agera’s scheduled walking path, was it?”
“Butler Ricoradca…”
“If the newly arrived guest had been an outsider, not even your lives would be enough to atone for this.”
Rico’s faint smile was gone, replaced by a chilling severity. Ah. So the Duchess’s sudden appearance was an accident.
The reason Rico kept checking the time was to get me inside the mansion before Agera began her walk. The same must have been true for Duke Hosaquin, who had hurried inside without looking back. Despite the tense atmosphere, Agera remained blissfully oblivious.
Tilting her head, she asked, “Are you a new maid? Don’t be so angry, you’re scaring me.”
“…Yes. My apologies. I am Rico.”
“Is that so? I haven’t seen you before… What was your name again?”
“It’s Rico.”
“Right, Rico.” Still holding me close, Agera scolded the butler. With her dementia, it was no surprise she didn't recognize him. “Um, you. Can you tell those girls? Tell them I’m not a child, so they don’t need to keep fussing over me and following me around.”
Rather than showing any hurt at being forgotten, Rico met her gaze as if playing along with a child.
“If you aren’t a child, how old are you, Lady Agera?”
“Me? Well…?”
“Then what about the young lady next to you?”
“Amaranth is nineteen.”
Agera couldn't remember her own age, yet she saw nothing strange about having a daughter of marriageable age. Rico seemed to lose the will to continue the conversation. Perhaps her questions had been a faint hope that the Duchess might grasp onto a thread of reality, even for a moment. With that hope shattered, her disappointment must have been immense.
“Do not take your eyes off Lady Agera for a single second,” Rico commanded the maids, returning to her stern role. Feeling the weight of their responsibility, the maids bowed their heads.
Agera, ignoring Rico completely, spoke up again. “Hey, look. My Amaranth is cold. I think we need to take her to her room quickly and warm her up.”
She blew warm air onto my hands. My eyes met Rico’s. He was probably recalling our earlier tug-of-war over my accommodations.
“…The young lady’s room is not clean. I have prepared another room, so there…”
So his excuse about the room was true. It made sense, given it had been empty for over twenty years. Forgetting this, Agera cut Rico off, flying into a rage.
“Take her to her room immediately! No, I’ll take her myself! I told you my daughter is cold! Who are you to disobey me?”
“I am Ricoradca—no… Yes. I will have it prepared.” Rico gave up, his quiet compliance speaking volumes. He looked utterly exhausted, as if he had no energy left to argue with me anymore. “Lady Agera, it seems the cleaning will take a little time. While we wait, why don’t you take a walk with Lady Amaranth?”
“Is that so…? Shall we? Amaranth! The weather is lovely. Let’s go for a stroll together, just like old times.”
I nodded. If humoring Agera meant I could get into Amaranth's room, it was a win for me. Before leaving, Rico whispered to me quietly.
“Lady Rohanson, I would be grateful if you could play along with Lady Agera as much as possible. His Grace the Duke will explain the details later.”
“Alright. I understand.”
Rico headed into the mansion.
“Let’s go, Amaranth. Mother will show you the glass greenhouse. You take after me and love flowers, don’t you?” Paying no mind to Rico, Agera linked her arm with mine and led me away, the maids trailing behind us.
When a maid informed her that the greenhouse was under construction and dangerous, Agera threw a stubborn tantrum.
I spent the next while calming her down, humoring her by playing Amaranth, and reacting to stories I felt I’d heard thirty times already as if it were the first time. The story of how she’d taken a nasty fall as a child and was carried home on her father’s back. The story of how she and the Duke met and married. The story of the overwhelming joy she felt the moment Amaranth was born.
If Agera had been my real grandmother, it would have been a profoundly depressing experience. But perhaps because I was so used to over-immersing myself in my roles, I only felt a tiny bit melancholic.
* * *
It hadn’t been long since the Duchess had risen from her sickbed. Because she had fasted for a while and still couldn’t digest food properly, the table was set with soft, easily digestible dishes.
For some reason, however, the Duchess violently rejected the meal prepared for her. She began to scream, flipping the entire dining table in a fit of rage.
Not caring that the hot soup was scalding her hands red, the old woman plunged them into the bowls, grabbing and throwing them wildly, shattering dishware in her rampage. One servant, bleeding from a gash on his head where a bowl had struck him, still tried to calm her.
Without offering any reason for her outburst, the Duchess only cried out for her deceased daughter.
“Get this away! Bring Amaranth to me! My daughter, our daughter!”
With her hair disheveled from clawing at her own head and her eyes bloodshot, there was no trace of her former gentleness. The Duchess who treated her servants like her own children was gone. Only a specter, clawing at the ghosts of the past, remained.
“My Lady, please snap out of it! Lady Amaranth has already passed away!” a maid cried.
“Lies, lies! You did this, didn’t you? What did you do to my beautiful daughter?”
Possessed by this specter, the Duchess lunged at the maid who had spoken of Amaranth’s death and began to strangle her. For an old woman on the verge of death, her grip was impossibly strong; the maid couldn’t break free and gasped for air. Even with four people rushing to help, they couldn’t restrain her.
The maid’s vision began to spin. Just as she thought she was going to die, the dining room doors burst open and Duke Hosaquin strode in.
“Agera!”
Startled by his sharp voice, the Duchess released the maid’s neck. Her hands trembled for a moment, and then she began to sob like a child.
“Why are you angry with me? What did I do wrong…? I just wanted to see Amaranth…”
Ironically, the Duke felt relieved that his wife recognized him. Yesterday, she had been terrified upon seeing him, asking who he was and trying to run away. By comparison, her condition was good today. The Duke pulled his weeping wife into his arms and comforted her.
“I am sorry. I am sorry, Agera.” He held her tightly. “But Agera, look at them. That is a child you cherished, yet she is badly hurt. The woman I know would never harm innocent people.”
At the Duke’s soothing words, the Duchess sniffled and nodded.
“Will you tell me why you were angry?”
“A rat… There was a rat. A rat in the soup… I wanted to tell Amaranth not to eat it.”
“I see. You are truly a loving mother.”
“Did I see a hallucination again? You, please check for me.”
The Duke held his wife close, blocking her view of the room. Then, he gestured for the servants to search the overturned dishes. One servant, as if touching something repulsive, pinched a long tail between two fingers and lifted it up.
It was a live rat.
“Unfortunately,” the Duke said, his voice calm and steady, “there was no rat, Agera.”