Chapter 12.2

* * *

As soon as Yvonne heard the news of Count Alexander Schmidt’s return, she set off for the castle with Lucas. Seated in the carriage, her face was etched with worry. The thought of returning to that gloomy fortress terrified her–but the prospect of living in an unfamiliar capital was even more daunting.  

A prince? So… I’m to become a princess? She hadn’t even mastered basic etiquette. How could she possibly manage that? And what was she supposed to say about her worsening mental state, which showed no signs of improving?  

Lost in the sudden weight of reality, she flinched when a warm hand closed over hers. Startled, she turned to the man beside her.  

“Everything will be fine.”  

Lucas had insisted that their meeting was fate. Two unproblematic nobles, well past marriageable age yet never betrothed, only to meet by chance at an inn and fall in love at first sight–it was like something out of a fairy tale.  

What struck Yvonne most about his dreamy words was how casually he referred to her as unproblematic. Lucas seemed to genuinely believe she hid her white hair simply because she disliked standing out. It was a reaction she had never even imagined.  

Do all people in the capital think like him? For the first time, a flicker of hope warmed her chest.  

Seeing Yvonne’s slight relief, Lucas smiled softly and spoke.  

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”  

Neither had she. It was like looking into a mirror. Though her heart didn’t race like in the romance novels she’d read, this pull was undeniably new.  

So this is what love at first sight feels like. Reassured, Yvonne smiled back. Lucas gazed at her as if enchanted before slowly leaning in to kiss her.  

As the carriage neared Schmidt Castle, her heart pounded violently. She decided to call it anticipation rather than dread.  

* * *

Under normal circumstances, arriving with an unfamiliar man might have drawn stares–but the seasoned servants betrayed nothing. Perhaps Karin or Martina had warned them. Though unsettling, it was far better than enduring scornful glares. Yvonne headed straight for the study.  

Somehow, even though not much time had passed, the study felt foreign. So did Alexander.  

His towering height and broad shoulders remained, but his face looked gaunter. His already cold demeanor seemed even sharper today. For some reason, Yvonne’s chest ached, and she avoided his gaze.  

“Prince Lucas Knüpfe,” the oblivious man introduced himself shortly–not Joseph Kippel. The name change was to secure permission to marry Yvonne once his mission ended.  

“Count Alexander Schmidt.”  

Even faced with a prince traveling incognito, Alexander showed no surprise. Yvonne wondered if anything could ever startle him. She had never seen him flustered.  

No… wait. Maybe once. In that bedroom. The memory of white sheets stained red flashed in her mind, and she clenched her interlaced fingers tightly. A cold sweat trickled down her back. Her body trembled as if frozen in an instant.  

Thankfully, Lucas swiftly cut to the chase.  

“I believe the late Count Schmidt left you a letter.”  

“Yes. I’ve kept it.”  

Alexander retrieved a crumpled letter from the shelf the moment the words left Lucas’ mouth. The Knüpfe royal seal was stamped on it. No one commented on the rough handling. Lucas looked pleased; Alexander, slightly wary. Yvonne simply watched, dazed.  

Alexander suggested opening it there.  

“There must be a reason he entrusted this to Schmidt.”  

“This has nothing to do with politics between our houses.”  

“Then there’s even less reason to hide it.”  

Seeing Lucas hesitate, Alexander pressed further.  

“If your presence here is discovered, both of us will have to explain. What if our stories don’t align?”  

The implied threat made Lucas relent. There was no need to antagonize this man when he needed his permission to marry Yvonne. And who knew–he might require Alexander’s cooperation later.  

“I came here to find my sibling.”  

What? Alexander frowned at the abrupt claim, prompting Lucas to elaborate.  

“My father told me Count Schmidt took my sibling in as a personal favor to my mother.”  

Lucas was the crown prince–the royal couple’s only child, born when they were well past forty. And yet, they’d had a second child… only to entrust it to Eric? Alexander’s skepticism was palpable. With no choice, Lucas broke the seal.  

Inside was a single, short sentence. The moment they read it, both Alexander and Lucas turned to Yvonne.  

A foreboding chill crept up her spine. She shrank under their gaze.

* * *

Eric, the sole heir of the Count, had been groomed from childhood to inherit the title–but the thought of becoming the ruler of this stifling territory repulsed him.  

Perhaps it was youthful rebellion, genuine disinterest, or the crippling depression that had plagued him since adolescence. Whatever the reason, after years of conflict with his father, Eric finally struck a compromise: he would pursue whatever studies he wished in the capital, but upon earning his degree, he would return immediately to succeed the title.  

The moment the decision was made, Eric packed his bags and left for the capital. Defiantly, he enrolled in a music conservatory–a profession respectable enough among the nobility, but rarely chosen by those of high standing. His father could only grit his teeth at his son’s choice.  

Despite his father’s disapproval, Eric had genuine talent. Soon, he was performing at royal events. This, in itself, wasn’t unusual. While the Schmidt family and a few others had complicated, often strained ties to the Knüpfe royal family–who had risen to power through revolution just a generation prior–such connections were hardly rare among the aristocracy. In the capital, Eric’s pursuits barely registered as gossip.  

What did capture attention was the scandal between the handsome young nobleman, Eric Schmidt, and Queen Francisca Knüpfe, a woman twenty years his senior. And when Francisca–long believed to be barren–announced her pregnancy, the rumors exploded.  

* * *

“His Majesty seemed… uneasy.”  

“Well, if the child were born with black hair…”

As her due date approached, Francisca fled to the southern palace, where she only resided in winter, and gave birth to twins in early winter.  

The firstborn was a boy, the spitting image of Francisca. She smiled in relief as she cradled the future king in her arms. But when she saw the second child, her face turned deathly pale.  

“This–!”

Francisca had once witnessed the execution of Etwar Schmidt. As a child, the appearance of the so-called “white-haired witch” had left a deep impression on her–so much so that she had nightmares for years.  

White hair and crimson eyes were not unheard of, but they were exceedingly rare. Francisca had only ever seen one person with those traits–and that person happened to be Eric’s grandmother.  

Francisca had never been unfaithful to her husband. The king and queen had always been devoted to each other. But lately, she had noticed her husband distancing himself–undoubtedly because of the vile rumors linking her to this handsome young man.  

Though innocent, the situation was ripe for suspicion. After only a moment’s hesitation, Francisca made her decision. Fortunately, only the midwife and two loyal maids were present. First, she ensured the midwife’s silence–permanently.  

Then there was the fragile newborn girl. Even Francisca couldn’t bring herself to kill her own daughter. Instead, she entrusted the child to a trusted friend, along with a letter.  

That same day, Eric Schmidt vanished from the capital. Fortunately, with the kingdom’s attention fixed on the legitimate heir, no one paid his disappearance any mind. As Francisca’s position solidified, people avoided mentioning Eric and the Schmidts altogether. For her part, Francisca made every effort to ignore news from that remote earldom.  

So thorough was her avoidance that she didn’t even know when Eric’s father–the then-Count Schmidt–had died. She only learned of Eric’s own ascension and subsequent death years later, upon receiving a letter from Nina Schmidt.  

The letter’s stated purpose was to invite Francisca to participate in a charitable event popular among noblewomen. But what truly caught her attention was a passing mention: an illegitimate child with distinctive features, whom Eric had brought from the capital in his youth.  

Though she smiled effortlessly in public, Francisca’s body was rotting away from illness. With little time left, she found herself longing to see her daughter one last time–and to let her son meet the twin sister he never knew.

* * *

The queen couldn’t bring herself to tell her son why she had abandoned Yvonne. Guilt-ridden, she avoided even mentioning the child’s distinctive features. Not that she could have ever imagined the twins would become entangled the moment they met.  

Nina, who had orchestrated this, hadn’t foreseen it either. She had only hoped the royal couple would be shattered upon facing their ruined daughter, and that Alexander would be consumed by rage. But…  

Yvonne collapsed weakly into a chair. Lucas kept his head bowed, unable to look at her. Alexander, the only composed one in the room, lifted Yvonne from the floor and seated her on the sofa.  

“I should… take my leave,” Lucas stammered, his voice thin. After a curt farewell, he fled the study.  

Before closing the door, his eyes flickered toward Yvonne one last time. She didn’t look back. Sitting rigidly, she stared at her own hands. Then the imposing man who could command a room with a few words knelt before her. His expression remained unreadable, but his focus was entirely on her. A strange tension hung between the two who had only recently become siblings.  

Lucas shut the door hastily, like a man who had seen something he shouldn’t have.  

* * * 

Why? Why does this keep happening to me?  

“Yvonne.”  

She finally looked up at Alexander. He was so close she could feel his breath, but she felt no discomfort–only the sharp clench of her jaw.  

“B-Brother… I…”  

Why did I even come here? 

She had to say something. He’d be annoyed if she wasted his time. But words failed her.  

“Go on. I’m listening.”  

A sob escaped her. Alexander watched her silently.  

It seemed Lucas had arrived during the few days Alexander was away, consulting another physician for Yvonne. To avoid attention, Lucas hadn’t stayed at an inn but was instead hosted by Riemelt’s youngest son at a vacant villa–the very villa Yvonne had just left for her convalescence.  

“Do you want to go to the palace?”  

A man and woman who had spent days together at the villa now stood before her guardian with resolute expressions. Alexander had guessed their intentions. And he had *no* intention of allowing her to leave with another man. There were countless reasons to refuse.  

But he never expected this.  

“No…” Yvonne shook her head frantically. Alexander wiped her tears slowly. She flinched at his touch but didn’t pull away.  

He could guess what had happened between her and her blood brother. That wretched illness had caused another disaster. He knew this was devastating for her–but privately, he was relieved.  

That bastard. His mouth went dry. A bitter smile tugged at his lips.  

“Then should you return to the villa?”  

Yvonne shook her head again, tears streaming. She couldn’t bear to go back. In this state, she’d lose her mind there. The thought terrified her.  

Then the words she longed to hear came.  

“Then stay here.”  

She bit her lip hard, nodding quickly before another sob could escape.  

Her lowered eyelids fluttered. A teardrop clung to her pale lashes before rolling down her flushed cheek. Alexander watched, breathless, as it traced the curve of her lips.  

A large hand cupped her face. Yvonne lifted her gaze, still trembling. The man before her, carved like a statue, studied her silently. As always, his thoughts were inscrutable. That was why she tensed around him.  

“Push me away… if you don’t want this.”  

His face drew closer. Her eyelids squeezed shut. Did she fail to resist because of her illness–or because…?  

They had shared a bed many times, but this was their first kiss. Her pressed lips, the heat of his palm against her cheek–everything burned. Her chest ached as if bound by wire. If she relaxed even slightly, she might faint. Her fingers twisted into his sleeve.  

Is this really okay? For the first time since that night, she was terrified.  

“B-Brother…” she whispered against his lips, eyes still shut.  

“I’m not your brother.”  

His low murmur sent a shiver through her. A moan nearly slipped out, but his cold tone doused her like ice water.  

I’m not a Schmidt. Was that why her father had ignored her? Never spoken to her? Of course. I was always meant to be sent away. And now, even her brother…  

Fresh tears spilled. I have nowhere left to go. She felt carved out of the world. I wish I’d never been born.

Alexander pulled her into his arms as she sobbed into his chest.  

“Alex.”  

“Hic…”  

“Call me Alex.”  

Her ragged breaths slowed. She parted her lips slightly, meeting his gaze again.  

His dark eyes were bottomless, like she might drown in them. His face was still unreadable, but it no longer frightened her. Hesitantly, she spoke.  

“A… Al…”  

She bit her lip again, inhaling sharply. Alexander waited patiently. His gaze scorched. Yvonne sighed and squeezed her eyes shut.  

“Alex…”  

Then his lips swallowed hers whole. There was no time to think–his tongue invaded, chasing hers relentlessly. The kiss was devouring, suffocating. When she clung to his neck, he only deepened it.  

The arm around her waist, the heat of his body–none of it felt strange anymore. Yvonne surrendered to the pleasure he gave her.