Chapter 161
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 161
The Rat opened the door. Inside the room were only two people: Agera, who looked exhausted as if she were about to fall asleep, and Evangeline, who was holding her hand.
Despite rumors of her being critically ill, Agera looked perfectly healthy and peaceful. The Rat, however, had no time to assess her condition. All of his focus was locked on the loathsome Evangeline.
“You’re here,” Evangeline greeted him nonchalantly, her tone suggesting she had been waiting for him all along.
Insolent Evangeline. The wicked, evil Evangeline who dared to steal the Rat’s place. The Evangeline who had tried to kill me, even after I had tried to treat her as a sister.
“Let go of her hand before I sever your wrist.”
As the Rat spat the sharp threat, Evangeline retorted coolly, using Agera as a shield. “Don’t make a scene in front of Lady Agera.”
The Rat’s eyes flickered to Agera. Seeing his reaction, Evangeline’s lips curled into a smirk. She was mocking him. She was definitely laughing at him.
*
I knew it. I cheered inwardly. The moment rumors of Agera’s critical condition spread, the rat bastard came running, just as I’d planned.
His appearance, however, was far from welcome. It had been disgusting enough when he copied my face, but now, the Rat was wearing the face of Amaranth.
It was as if the face from the portrait had been lifted and placed directly onto him. His silver hair, so pale it was almost white, immediately caught my eye. My heart sank like a stone in a swamp.
That is not Amaranth. Even as I repeated the words to myself, my anger refused to subside. I turned my head away.
“Don’t make a scene in front of Lady Agera.”
The rat bastard’s weakness was, indeed, Agera. At the mere suggestion that a disturbance would displease her, he immediately tucked his tail and fell silent.
“Is she… is she really that sick?” the Rat asked, his hands trembling violently. His speech, which had once been a jumble of fragmented words, had improved significantly.
“Today might be the critical moment. She may not last the night.”
If Canna had been here, she probably would have showered me with praise, marveling at how our young lady could lie so brazenly without batting an eye.
Agera’s illness was a complete fabrication. She wasn’t sick at all. The only reason she looked so exhausted was that she had stayed up all night partying with me.
Yesterday, Agera and I had pulled an all-nighter for a pajama party. Since we could no longer smuggle snacks from the Rohanson Mansion, we had to borrow the Duke’s kitchen, which felt a little clandestine, but that was the only difference.
“Mother…”
The Rat approached Agera, his entire body trembling. I stepped aside to give him room. He shot me a suspicious look, clearly finding my sudden consideration bizarre, but he quickly snatched the spot next to her anyway.
“Who… are you?”
Agera spoke in an incredibly slow, drawn-out voice, looking every bit the part of a patient on her deathbed. Of course, as I said, she wasn't sick—just utterly exhausted from eating delicious food, dancing, and gossiping with me until dawn.
“Mother, what do you mean…? I—I am your daughter.”
The Rat reached out a hand toward her. Perhaps his devotion to Agera was genuine, because he hesitated to touch her, his hand hovering in the air as if terrified she might shatter.
“Don’t you remember…? Mother, you called for me. You summoned me. I was born as your daughter. I was born solely to be your daughter. Please look for me, please remember me—not Amaranth. Why can’t you remember…? No, no, it’s fine if you don’t. I’ll stay by your side forever. I am your daughter. I am Amaranth.”
His hands trembled like those of a child abandoned by its parents. His rambling, incoherent muttering sounded like the ravings of a madman, creating an incredibly eerie scene.
Instead of taking his hand, Agera stared at the Rat with half-lidded, drowsy eyes.
“Amaranth.”
“Yes, yes! I’m Amaranth!” he replied breathlessly, his face flushed with a mixture of frantic excitement and hope.
But Agera’s gaze was fixed on me. The “Amaranth” she had called for was me. Tilting her head, she looked me over.
“Who is this child? If she is a newly hired maid… why is she calling me mother?”
“Why… why don’t you recognize me…?”
The question that followed was thick with tears, his voice trembling so violently it sounded as if it were being battered by surging waves.
“Why? I copied Amaranth’s portrait. I should be perfect now…”
So he hadn’t just set the fire; he must have seen my paintings, too. No wonder he looked so uncannily like the portrait. I’d assumed it was lost in the fire since I couldn’t find it in the ashes of the ruined mansion. Had this bastard stolen it?
“I am Amaranth. So why…?”
The Rat stumbled backward, burying his face in his hands as if he were about to burst into tears.
And then, something strange happened.
The clumsy disguise he had cobbled together began to slough off. Flesh, hair, and facial features melted away like hot wax. Beneath the dripping facade, Rico’s original form was revealed.
The Rat was shattered by the realization that Agera had no interest in him. He couldn’t bear it, and his very form began to crumble. Since his existence was created for Agera, he could not withstand her rejection.
“I am… Mother’s… daughter…”
Even as he said it, his voice lacked all conviction.
“Hahaha! Hehe, hic… Ha.”
His face drenched in tears, the Rat laughed and sobbed like a lunatic. After a moment, he whipped his head around and glared at me, his eyes fierce and brimming with tears.
A venomous look that did not belong on Rico’s face burned in his eyes, overflowing with resentment and jealousy.
“Anyone can see that I am closer to ‘Amaranth’ than you are now!” he shrieked, his voice sharp and ragged.
“So why does Mother… call you… instead of me… why does she call you Amaranth?!”
Rico’s face was a mess. A sudden curiosity struck me. Was he crying because this was originally Rico’s body, or was the Rat an entity capable of shedding tears?
How pathetic, acting so aggrieved when Agera wasn’t even his real mother. Then again, she was the one who had made him so obsessed with Amaranth in the first place.
I couldn’t absolve him of his crimes or his attempts to ruin my life, but watching his blind devotion and desperate pleas did stir a tiny sliver of pity in me.
But pity wouldn’t put food on the table. Besides, Gabriel and Jelly had been severely injured in the fire he set at the Rohanson Mansion. I had absolutely no intention of showing him mercy.
My only focus now was to dispose of the Rat, complete the mission, secure a safe house from the Duke, and evacuate everyone from our mansion.
“That’s because I resemble Mother far more than a fake like you ever could.”
I sneered, twisting the knife to provoke him.
The Rat sprang to his feet. I tensed, preparing for a fight, but he ran right past me toward the vanity in the corner of Agera’s room.
“If I fix it, it’ll be fine. I just need to make myself look more like her. I need to check my face. My face…” he muttered frantically, staring into the mirror.
A sharp shatter echoed through the room. Shards of glass embedded themselves in Rico’s fist.
The mirror was now spiderwebbed with cracks, its fractured surface reflecting dozens of distorted images of Rico. The Rat clawed at his own face, smearing blood across his skin with every frantic movement.
“This… this isn’t Amaranth’s face.”
His voice was a raw rasp. He seemed furious that Rico’s face was staring back at him, apparently not even realizing his disguise had melted away in his hysterical state.
It was ridiculous for him to feel wronged when he was the one who had stolen Rico’s body.
The one who truly had a right to be angry was Rico. Even knowing the circumstances, seeing that familiar face in such a state was deeply unpleasant.
Was this how Daisy felt when she realized I had possessed her body? I felt like I finally understood why she could never accept me, why she found my very existence so offensive.
“What did you do to me?!” the Rat roared.
I didn’t do anything, you idiot. You had a mental breakdown and your disguise melted on its own.
“I see. It’s the doing of that cat bastard who always clings to you.”
He wasn’t entirely wrong. If the Rat hadn’t self-destructed, Pudding had been planning to step in. Pudding had loathed the idea of the Rat running around with my face and had promised to use a countermeasure to prevent him from ever copying my appearance again.
Granted, Pudding had described it as a crude method of layering one hallucination over another. Still, it was unfair to blame him when the Rat had imploded from shock before Pudding could even lift a finger.
“Shh. I told you not to make a scene in front of Lady Agera.”
I pressed a finger to my lips, warning him with a smile. The Rat’s gaze flickered to Agera, and he clamped his mouth shut. He fell silent, but bringing her up had clearly pushed him over the edge. His murderous intent flared with terrifying intensity. He looked ready to spring at me at any second, so I summoned my bodyguard.
“Pudding.”
“Yes, Lady Evangeline.”
The moment his gentle reply reached my ears, the world around us shifted violently.
The walls erupted in bumpy, uneven protrusions. Raw, skinless muscle pulsed beneath the surface, boiling like lava. In a world suddenly dyed crimson, countless eyelids snapped open all at once. Those eyes—uniquely warm only when they looked at me—now glared fiercely at the Rat. Whether due to some spiritual incompatibility or sheer terror at the sight of hundreds of eyes locked onto him, the Rat faltered.
“Subdue him.”
Seizing the opening, Pudding brandished a long, scythe-like weapon, pressing its blade to the Rat’s throat. His movements completely sealed, the Rat bit his lip raw, glaring at me with venomous hatred. Under his furious gaze, I deliberately stepped past him and walked toward Agera.