Chapter 1
“It’s Helen, Helen.”
“Shh! She might hear you.”
Hermia took a sip of her lemonade, ignoring the whispering voices behind her.
If it were up to her, she would have liked to gulp down three glasses in a row, but she couldn’t do that with her stepmother glaring at her from not too far away.
As she was about to step forward to change her seat, she winced slightly.
It seemed the bandage she had stuck on her heel had come off.
The leather brushed against the wound, sending a sharp pain coursing up her ankle.
‘Where is the lounge again?’
The intensity of the pain was too much to ignore.
She couldn’t just walk around leaving bloodstains on the floor, so she needed to find an empty lounge to reapply the bandage.
Hermia turned slowly and began walking with a calm expression on her face. As she moved, the crowd parted as if treating her like someone contagious.
‘Do I smell bad?’
She raised her dress sleeve to sniff but stopped herself out of concern for appearances.
So… when did it start?
When did she begin to feel completely isolated at social gatherings?
Just last month, the young ladies who pretended to be friends with her had all vanished.
Since she only had one friend to begin with, it wasn’t too surprising, but it was the first time that people were openly whispering about her like this.
Hermia recalled the garden party at the marquis’s house, where everything had begun.
—-
The short grass crunched pleasantly underfoot as she walked.
This was already the ninth party she had been dragged to this month, but she didn’t mind. When they returned home, her mother was always too exhausted to even scold her.
Moreover, while invitations poured in like a flood, her mother seemed utterly uninterested in Hermia herself.
‘This is all thanks to the marriage talks with the Duke’s family.’
Hermia consciously pulled down the corners of her mouth that had involuntarily turned upward.
The story of how the powerful Rockford Duke family became connected with an ordinary count’s family was as follows:
It was due to the last will and testament of the late Duke Rockford.
[Marry the Count Vansen’s daughter and maintain the marriage for over a year.]
Otherwise, he threatened that he would donate all his inheritance to the country—a statement that was nothing short of coercion.
The Duke who wrote that will went off to war boasting of his prowess and ended up dying in battle. He had lost his only son on that battlefield ten years ago and met his own end there as well.
His twenty-two-year-old grandson, Walter Rockford, became head of the family at a young age—an unfortunate tale indeed.
‘But since it’s just a requirement to maintain a marriage for one year, it’s not bad for the Duke.’
Hermia had no intention of asking for a divorce first; instead, she planned to accept alimony from Walter Rockford and leave for the Duke’s castle.
With suitors from both noble families and royalty frequently presenting themselves, he had no need to maintain his marriage with her.
She would receive an inheritance and could remarry into a larger family or someone she had feelings for, while gaining her freedom in return.
A very neat and perfect conclusion.
“Hermia Vansen!”
“……!”
Hermia was startled back to reality by someone calling her full name.
“Did you get fooled again?”
It was her friend Irene, who seemed to take pleasure in startling her by imitating their mother’s tone.
Even upon realizing it was just a joke, Hermia felt a familiar stiffness creep up her spine.
“Irene, you scared me.”
Hermia replied while smoothing down her chest. Despite her heart still racing, her voice came out calm.
“That’s not what matters right now.”
Irene snapped angrily as she snatched Hermia’s glass and gulped down its contents. How dare she take someone else’s drink without permission? Hermia opened her mouth to protest but then closed it again.
“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for today?”
Her voice was filled with excitement and lacked any restraint. Hermia responded cautiously instead.
“Irene, you should lower your voice a bit. If Mother sees us…”
‘Didn’t I tell you several times not to associate with that country bumpkin Irene Schwain?’
Her stepmother must have said something along those lines.
Hermia knew well that her stepmother disapproved of Irene. She called Irene a crude girl who lacked any sense of dignity; however, Hermia understood there was more to it than that.
What truly bothered her stepmother was that Irene came from a modest family with only a small estate in the countryside yet dared come to the capital city.
Nobles born and raised in the capital often looked down upon provincial nobles who tried to advance into central society simply because they had money. They would smile in front of them but gossip behind their backs and look down on them without hesitation.
Regardless, being seen with Irene at a garden party where many eyes were watching would earn Hermia nothing but reprimands for an hour or more.
While Hermia was cautious about being noticed by others, Irene didn’t seem bothered at all and looked around freely.
“I don’t care about that stuff. By the way, where is your maid?”
‘Right. It’s not you who will get scolded; it’ll be me.’
Hermia smiled bitterly. Still, since Irene was her only friend, she had to tolerate it.
“My maid?”
“Yeah. Mel Greenwood. I need to meet her.”
Irene’s sudden interest in Mel made Hermia wonder why. She envisioned Mel as a lovely girl with bright brown hair and purple eyes.
“Mel said she wasn’t feeling well today and is resting at home. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve been really into romance novels lately. I found something interesting while looking through some new releases.”
Irene grinned mysteriously as she pulled out a thin book from under her arm that she’d been holding onto since earlier. It wasn’t a hardcover book but rather a regular paperback edition made of paper—something that seemed like an inappropriate read for commoners.
Hermia instinctively recoiled at this revelation. Even seeing Irene offering it without concern for their mother’s reaction made Hermia uneasy.
“Don’t worry. I covered it with a Bible cover.”
Looking closely again, there were indeed signs of glue smeared haphazardly over what appeared to be an original cover beneath it. From afar, it could easily be mistaken for a Bible due to its cover material being unrecognizable.
Finally feeling somewhat reassured, Hermia took the book from Irene’s hands. As she opened it up, large letters caught her eye:
[The Stolen Noble Lady Reclaims Everything.]
“Is this the title?”
“Yeah! Isn’t it unique? Maybe that’s why it’s gaining attention so quickly; it already has many fans.”
Irene whispered conspiratorially as if they were part of some secret society.
“We call it ‘The Stolen Lady’ for short.”
Since Irene referred to “we,” it seemed that she too was among its fans. After hesitating briefly, Hermia turned another page.
[Chapter 1: The Young Lady of Count Vince.]
‘Count Vince? That sounds similar to Count Vansen.’
Her coral-blue eyes sparkled with curiosity as she read on:
[Bell Vince was a girl with golden-brown hair shining like sunlit wheat fields. And what about her eyes? They were beautiful shades of purple as if adorned with amethysts.]
Having read that far, she suddenly looked up and met Irene’s gaze; Irene smacked Hermia’s arm excitedly as if waiting for this moment all along.
“This novel features your maid Mel Greenwood as its main character!”
“What?!”
While Bell’s physical description resembled Mel Greenwood somewhat, what surprised Hermia more was how coincidentally similar their names were as well.
But for Mel to be the protagonist of such a story—Hermia’s face reflected confusion when Irene dramatically pounded on her chest in exasperation.
“That means! The female lead Bell is actually Mel Greenwood! Look here!”
Irene flipped open a page where she’d previously marked and pointed at it with enthusiasm. Hermia lowered her gaze again:
[Bell was happiest when invited to court because it meant meeting her closest friends again. Although there were differences in their social standings, they were undeniably inseparable.]
Seeing the names listed below caused Hermia’s pupils to widen involuntarily:
Prince Jade Malone from Malone Kingdom.
Lord William Langford from Duke’s family.
Although their names were slightly altered, there was no mistaking them—characters based on an actual prince and duke appeared in this novel!
“No way!”
Hermia exclaimed without realizing she’d forgotten about drinking from the glass Irene had just sipped from moments before now emptying its contents herself in shock.
“It’s just fiction! Isn’t it brilliant? That Prince Gerald Muller and Duke Walter Rockford are characters here!”
By now Irene had returned with another glass in hand and crossed her arms while smirking at Hermia’s reaction.
“It seems like they’ve written this story based on real events disguised as fiction! The character Bell represents your maid Mel Greenwood! ‘Vince’ refers back directly towards ‘Vansen’—your family name!”
Then leaning closer conspiratorially again:
“In this story Bell suffers an accident when she’s young which causes amnesia before ending up at an orphanage where she becomes ‘Bell Graywood.’”
“So does this mean Mel originally wasn’t just any maid… but rather…a count’s daughter?”
That would imply she belonged within Count Vansen’s household? But Hermia couldn’t bring herself further into those thoughts; seeing how serious Hermia appeared made Irene squint playfully at her next words:
“Doesn’t this feel suspicious? Especially since Mel also happens from ‘Greenwood Orphanage.’”
“Oh my gosh! Irene…”
“Yes! Hermia! You can share anything you know! I promise I’ll keep your secrets safe!”
While Irene brimmed with eager anticipation opposite Hermia felt overwhelmed by confusion; if this novel truly reflected reality then Mel being related by blood could imply they might be sisters!
That couldn’t be true—there weren’t even any similarities between them whatsoever!
Mel’s hair shone white like spun silk while hers remained dark brown; moreover Mel possessed violet eyes unlike blue ones like hers—though undeniably sweet-natured compared against herself…
If anything could be said about herself—it leaned toward being more…
‘A sophisticated beauty?’
Often when remaining expressionless people would ask “What displeases you?” causing irritation among maids tending after them…
“It’s nothing really—Irene! This is just fiction after all; naturally its content must remain fictionalized! They probably borrowed names solely creating similar characters!”
Even as denial slipped past lips accompanied by awkward laughter brought forth an amused grin upon Irene’s face twisting one side upwards playfully:
“You won’t say such things once you finish reading through! Here take my copy home—it’ll be worth your time.”
“Uh… Thanks.”
“Oh! By tomorrow volume two will be released—I can hardly wait!”
Something about how coldly spoken those words felt left unease lingering beneath the surface; before adding one last remark Irene turned abruptly away leaving behind chaos swirling around them both…
Hermia, who had been absentmindedly staring down at the book in her hand, unknowingly bit her thumbnail. It was an old habit that surfaced unconsciously whenever she became anxious.
‘What if Mel really is my sister? Then, it might not be me but Mel who marries the Duke.’
As she continued to compare Mel and her father’s features in her mind, it happened.
“Hermia! Come here and greet the Marchioness!”
This time, it was truly the Countess’s voice.
Contrary to her gentle tone, there was fury in her graceful face. It seemed she had finally caught Hermia with Irene.
Hermia quickly tidied her clothes.
It was time to return to being the obedient, docile daughter, Hermia Vansan.
“What is this?”
In that moment, the voice of the man she least wanted to face penetrated her ears.
