Your Name
Dot hurried to find the Duchess.
“What is it, Dorothea?”
“Well, Your Grace… I came because something urgent occurred to me. Since the Harvest Festival incident in the fall, both the Orleans ducal house and the Hwiant marquisate have suffered greatly. Especially the two ladies—they were so shocked that they’ve stopped appearing in society altogether.”
“And?”
The corners of the Klein Duchess’s lips curved upward.
Now that Cassel, her own flesh and blood, had fully settled into the capital, she was all the more pleased that Dot was saying the right things. There was some exaggeration in the interpretation, but Dot’s words were essentially correct.
Both houses continued to insist that the other was responsible for what had happened, though the duel had barely been averted—thanks in part to Cassel’s efforts. Still, their mutual hostility showed no sign of fading, and neither the Duchess nor the Marchioness had made any public appearances.
They only hosted small gatherings and banquets at their own residences, inviting select guests. It was clear they were trying to draw clear lines and gather allies.
Dot launched into an impassioned speech.
“If Your Grace were to show them a little care at a time like this, wouldn’t it strengthen our ties with them?”
“Care for them?”
“Yes. You wouldn’t even need to take sides. Simply offering comfort for their shock would be enough. The imperial family might even look favorably on it, since it could help ease the ongoing conflict between the two houses.”
“Did you come up with that yourself? It’s been quite some time since Scholar Pochette stopped visiting the ducal residence.”
The Klein Duchess regarded her with a distinctly approving expression. Encouraged, Dot answered even more respectfully.
“I only thought… the atmosphere in society feels unsettled now that two ladies who were always so confident and beautiful have suddenly vanished from view.”
“You’re right. Even if they were close to the incident, the Emperor and the Crown Prince were both present. They work tirelessly to soothe public sentiment—how could nobles stir up baseless discord? Very well. I’ll make preparations to visit them soon.”
“…Yes.”
Dot’s heart leapt with joy at having her suggestion accepted, but she kept her expression carefully neutral. Showing impatience would ruin everything.
And her expectations did not betray her.
“Using the excuse that you wish to show your face would be even better. Go prepare a new dress and get ready to visit both houses in turn. No matter what happens, do not say anything that might provoke them.”
This is it!
“Understood. I’ll take care of it.”
Dot cheered inwardly.
Both noblewomen had once been on good terms with Dot—unlike Morgana, whom they had despised. Now that they were openly hostile to each other, soothing their wounded pride with a few well-chosen words would be easy.
‘Hmm. The ducal house is still better than the marquisate, after all. There are only two ducal houses in the entire empire.’
As Dot had predicted, the Klein Duchess chose the Orleans ducal residence as her first destination.
True to its long history, the ducal mansion exuded an air of antiquity from the very entrance. Even the traces of repairs on doors built in an older style felt like living history.
Raphael, the sole heir and only son of the house, was also rumored to be exceptionally handsome.
Though he was of no interest to Dot, who had her sights set on becoming Crown Princess, it would be wise to stay on good terms with him for the future.
“Welcome, Your Grace, Duchess of Klein.”
“Good to see you. Is the lady of the house in?”
“Ugh…”
The moment the Klein Duchess spoke, a long groan echoed from behind the ornate doors. The butler, however, showed no exaggerated concern and answered politely.
“Yes. I will inform her at once.”
Inside, the scene was even more theatrical.
Everyone except the knights from both houses who had been scheduled to duel had kept a safe distance from the explosion site. Yet the Duchess of Orleans—completely unharmed—lay in bed wearing a sleeping cap and silk nightclothes, moaning dramatically.
It was obvious she had staged this performance the moment she heard the Klein Duchess was coming.
She had persistently invited the Klein Duchess to banquets held at the Orleans residence, only to be refused every time. Now she was suddenly feigning illness while still hosting lively banquets? It was absurd.
“Oh… Duchess of Klein. Sob… Thank you for coming to visit me in my illness…”
“I’m sorry for coming so late. While the investigation was ongoing, the Duke gave strict orders not to show favor to either house.”
The Klein Duchess replied calmly.
“Oh! That’s no problem at all. I’m simply so happy that our friendship continues that I can’t stop my tears…”
“Madam.”
“Sob… Sophia, while I hovered between life and death, I kept thinking of your face when you were young. We were the closest of friends!”
The Duchess of Orleans even used the Klein Duchess’s given name, trying to flaunt their old connection.
‘She’s laying it on thicker than I expected. Is she the culprit after all?’
Instead of being flustered, the Klein Duchess took out a handkerchief she had prepared and held it out.
“Here. Wipe your tears.”
The face of the Duchess of Orleans, who was pretending to cry, was perfectly dry. Her eyes weren’t even red—on the contrary, she looked radiant, as if she had been eating and resting well.
Both women knew exactly what the other was thinking, yet they performed their roles with flawless acting.
“Oh… thank you…”
But at the edge of the white handkerchief the Klein Duchess offered was a delicate lemon-yellow embroidery—an elegantly stitched “W.” It was unmistakably a gift from the Hwiant marquisate.
The Klein Duchess was not the sort of person to let others get away with things she knew were false. If she had been, she would never have been able to hold her head high in society despite her position.
Unable to throw the handkerchief away, the Duchess of Orleans awkwardly dabbed at her cheeks and handed it back.
“I… I’m all right now.”
“Have you calmed down a little?”
“Y-yes.”
It was as if she had suddenly swallowed a stimulant—her mind cleared instantly.
Was the Klein Duchess on her way back from the Hwiant marquisate? Or did she intend to visit there after leaving this place?
Just as the Duchess of Orleans suspected, the Klein Duchess continued without the slightest change in her composed posture.
“A winter ball will be held at the imperial palace soon. I hope you recover enough to attend.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“The only one who can calm the unsettled atmosphere since the Harvest Festival is you—the right heart of the empire, Duchess of Orleans. I’ll be counting on you. Now, take good care of yourself. I should leave before I risk worsening your condition.”
“I pray for the Duchess of Orleans’s peace and swift recovery.”
Dot quickly added her own farewell.
When the Klein Duchess merely pretended to take a sip of tea before departing, the Duchess of Orleans grew visibly anxious.
She had even stopped attending the imperial palace just to win the power struggle against the Hwiant marquisate. If the left heart of the empire stepped in like this…
This won’t do.
“Butler! Is anyone out there? Call everyone in at once!”
“Yes, my lady.”
She summoned a trusted maid and hurried toward the main temple.
Nearly thirty years ago, a distant female relative of the Orleans ducal house had been chosen as Saintess. At the time, the family had granted her the Orleans surname as a sign of support and had looked after her for quite some time afterward.
However, the Saintess Capia had a habit of delivering vague prophecies or oracles that turned out completely wrong.
Whether because of that or not, the number of worshippers visiting the main temple gradually declined, while the value of mages rose significantly above that of priests.
The relationship between the ducal house and the Saintess naturally grew distant. The one who had changed the policy to reconnect and provide steady support was the current Duchess of Orleans.
She had given so much grace—surely the Saintess’s side would offer some help in return.
The Duchess of Orleans was now on her way to reap the harvest of the seeds she had sown. After stirring up this much trouble, she had to obtain something in return.
Even if it was the fruit of lies, it didn’t matter.
If a patient could only be cured by eating a red fruit, what did it matter whether it was a tomato, a cherry, or even a grape that could never be red?
All she needed to do was show something red to the patient’s eyes and make them swallow it quickly.
That was the brutal yet elegant way of surviving in noble society.
After visiting both the Orleans ducal house and the Hwiant marquisate in succession, Dot had been having restless nights.
“Ugh…”
The Klein Duchess.
The person she had thought would be the easiest to handle was far more skilled in social matters than expected. Even while facing the heads of two feuding houses one after another, she had shown no sign of backing down.
Because of that, even while flattering her as usual, Dot couldn’t shake the doubt: Was this really the right thing? Was everything going well? Her confidence wavered.
A world without Morgana as a cushion… It was driving her mad.
“Your eyes are so dark underneath.”
She couldn’t afford to look haggard on top of everything else. Her greatest weapons were her gentle, comforting smile and her noble, refined beauty. She had to maintain those at all costs.
Dot had just finished washing her face and was returning when she was summoned to the Klein Duchess’s private chambers.
“What is it?”
“Her Grace has summoned you. Please come at once.”
Though they urged her to hurry, they didn’t grab her arm or speak informally. Their attitude was subtly different from before—as if they were drawing a line.
There hadn’t been any strange omens recently…
Why was this happening again? Had something been reported from those two houses?
Already uneasy from her dreams, Dot forced herself to keep a brazen expression as she headed there.
“Sit.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The Klein Duchess was wearing a black veil-covered hat even indoors. The curtains on the windows were also drawn shut.
Dot’s head instinctively leaned forward, a sense of foreboding rising within her.
That hat—wasn’t it something one wore when in mourning? The Duchess’s voice also sounded heavier and more subdued than usual. Had she been crying?
Dot carefully tried to flatter her.
“Has there been a funeral?”
“……”
The answer did not come quickly.
The air between them felt heavy and suffocating, as if she might choke at any moment. Dot, unable to bear the silence, called out to the Duchess again, feeling as though her throat were being strangled.
What was going on? Someone say something!
“Your Grace?”
“Dorothea.”
“Yes.”
“When did you become Dorothea?”
Thud.
At the words that reminded her of Grace Monastery, Dot’s previously calm pupils trembled violently.
She could no longer hold back. She wanted to push Lument off the cliff with all her strength—It’s because of you…! Yes, it’s all your fault.
If you hadn’t been born and only Doppel and I had existed, our family’s situation, our fortune, would never have declined like this.
Because of your medicine expenses, I never even had a chance to escape that wretched countryside! I, who deserved to be respected and cherished!
If you had never been born, I wouldn’t have had to suffer through all of this from the very beginning.