Chapter 46
“What? Is that really what you’re worried about right now? Someone’s collapsed!”
Hermia tried pulling her sleeve free from Mel’s tight grip, but there wasn’t even the slightest movement. Clenching her teeth, Hermia yanked her arm with all her strength.
Rip! The shoulder area tore along the seam.
“…?”
In an instant, the left arm was exposed. The torn fabric remained clutched in Mel’s hand, which stood like a stone pillar.
Was the fabric this worn out? It was new, made at the duchess’s estate.
This wasn’t the time for that. Hermia turned around and ran again.
“Is Canty here? Ross! The Duke has collapsed!”
As she shouted outside, a vagrant and a painter appeared from somewhere. While the vagrant examined the unconscious Walter, the painter pulled out a long gun from his art supplies.
“Is this an attack?”
Bob Ross, who had closed the curtains and loaded his musket, asked sternly.
“What?”
“What happened to the commander?”
“Well, it’s just that…”.
If she said Mel rushed over, causing a shock, and then crashed into the wall for a second impact, would these people believe her?
“He fell alone.”
Hermia stuttered when Mel chimed in innocently.
The vagrant, who had checked Walter’s body and found no gunshot wounds, slowly stood up.
He eyed Mel suspiciously.
A tense atmosphere hung between the two beggars facing each other.
“Did the commander fall alone?”
“Yes. Walter fell alone.”
A sound like a desert wind filled the enclosed room, which shouldn’t have been possible. The painter, who had been on alert, put his finger to his lips and whistled sharply.
The waiting members of the Chameleon unit rushed into the dining room, surrounding Hermia and Mel with guns at the ready.
“We’ll take care of the commander. You two need to stay here at the estate for now.”
Tom Canty spoke with a stern face and gestured. The members lifted Walter, wrapping his head and upper body in a tablecloth.
Hermia looked at the suflé dishes scattered on the floor before raising her head. Along with a foul smell, Tom Canty stood imposingly in front of her.
“Please stay quietly at the estate. If you leave without permission, you might be arrested for suspicion of fleeing.”
“Suspicion of fleeing?”
“If you’re lured by the Eastern Empire, even a citizen of the kingdom can become a spy.”
“Are you saying I’m a spy now?”
At her incredulous question, he replied calmly.
“It means we can’t be sure unless the commander wakes up.”
After finishing his warning, he shot Mel a similar warning glance before leaving the dining room.
Only Hermia and Mel were left standing amidst the chaos on the floor.
She couldn’t understand what was happening. People who had been eating peacefully were suddenly treating her like a terrorist…
As she snapped back to reality, she turned sharply to Mel. The unit members had left, and Mel collapsed weakly.
“I-I was scared, miss.”
Right now, you’re the scariest. Hermia suppressed her inner voice and sat down beside Mel.
“How did this happen? Where have you been? Why did you run away from the Duke’s castle?”
She tried to grab Mel’s shoulder but pulled back slightly at the sight of the dark clothes. Mel’s large eyes welled up with tears, and she began to sob.
* * *
Mel munched on a hard, stale scone from the sofa table.
Her teeth are really strong… Hermia thought as she carefully sat across from Mel, offering warm milk.
After being brought to her room and served the milk, Mel had somewhat calmed down and let out a long sigh.
“Thank you, miss. It’s been two days since I had proper bread.”
“What did you eat until now?”
“I rummaged through trash cans… and sometimes ate rotten fruit from fruit shops…”
“Why did you do that?”
Mel, who had been living well at the Duke’s castle, was now leading such a life.
Mel downed the milk in one gulp, her cheeks sunken.
“I couldn’t stay at Walter’s house anymore. The Duke’s family is dangerous, miss.”
The bronze goblet Mel held crumpled like clay.
Was it made of a material that could be crushed by hand? Hermia blinked in surprise as Mel hastily put down the goblet.
“Ah, sorry. I suddenly got a bit stronger…”
A bit…?
Mel tried to restore the goblet to its original shape but ended up deforming it further.
Finally, she placed the lumpy, misshapen object down and laughed.
“I don’t know. I just suddenly got this way.”
Hermia wasn’t too surprised. After encountering ghosts and perverts, this wasn’t shocking anymore.
Maybe she’d be surprised if the countess suddenly donated all her wealth. Hermia spoke calmly.
“Maybe it’s your curse.”
“What curse?”
Mel knew nothing about the note left by the author. Hermia explained what had happened since Mel disappeared.
Hermia had to go back and explain things multiple times since Mel didn’t understand everything right away, but thanks to that, Hermia had time to calm down.
However, Hermia’s calm voice faltered when she mentioned Walter’s curse for the last time.
“…So, the Duke was undressed, and that’s when you appeared.”
“That’s impossible!”
Mel, who had been listening quietly, suddenly slammed her fist on the table. The wooden table cracked with a loud thud and collapsed in half.
“Ah, I-I’m sorry. But that’s not true!”
“Uh… Could you explain without getting mad…”
Frightened, Hermia pulled her legs up onto the sofa. Mel trembled and spoke firmly.
“That book, ‘The Stolen Lady,’ might have been written by Walter!”
“What are you talking about? Why would the Duke write anything?”
“‘The Stolen Lady’ isn’t true. The one who killed my parents wasn’t Lord Anold, the Count of Vansen… it was our master!”
Mel muttered incoherently.
“My memories… they’re coming back. I remember the day my parents died… everything!”
Shivering like a leaf, Mel began to sob again. In front of the broken table, she started telling her story in a frightened tone.
* * *
Mel, or Melissa, was living a leisurely life at the Duke’s castle.
After Walter recognized her and brought her home, she believed everything would return to normal.
The days of being scolded by Lady Laura and receiving a meager salary, which was often deducted, were now over. The headaches that came with fragmented memories in the fog disappeared after she started taking the medicine Isaac gave her.
She wore dresses made from smooth fabrics and enjoyed meals prepared by a renowned chef from a top hotel.
As a maid, she found it uncomfortable at first when other maids curtsied and fawned over her, but soon she thought it was natural.
I am Melissa Vansen. I’m the noble lady who will soon become the Duchess.
Her bright future, filled with smiles, shattered the moment Hermia arrived.
Was it when Walter cradled a drunken Hermia in his arms and announced he would marry her? Or was it the next day, when Hermia asked to break off the engagement?
“I don’t want to fight with Melissa over a marriage partner, even if we’re not biological sisters. We’re cousins, after all.”
Mel couldn’t shake off those words.
It wasn’t Walter’s declaration of wanting to marry an illegitimate child instead of her that bothered her. It was the word “cousin.”
She thought she was a complete orphan, but it turned out she had a family.
Melissa Vansen had a relative named Hermia Vansen. Although it was awkward to call her family, Hermia was someone with the same surname.
In her mind, Hermia felt more familiar than the distant relative, Count Anold Vansen.
I have a family. I have a cousin. I’m not an orphan.
Thinking this made her excited, waking her up several times at night.
Mel found it more delightful that the beautiful lady she admired was her cousin.
It was a casual comment Hermia had made with a smile the morning after returning to the Count’s estate.
The day after Hermia returned to the count’s estate, Mel hummed a tune as she strolled down the hallway.
She had already resigned herself to the idea that her marriage to Walter wouldn’t happen, yet strangely, she didn’t feel despair.
“Now that I think about it, Walter was always the type to set clear boundaries. Even when we played house, Gerald was always the ‘husband.’”
Walter had always been the son of Gerald-the-father and Melissa-the-mother when they played house. A slightly awkward son who only pretended to eat the sand food they made. Sometimes he was the daughter, occasionally the dog.
As her memories became clearer, Mel chuckled and stopped walking, realizing she had reached the end of an unfamiliar corridor.
A door she had never seen before caught her eye.
“There’s a room here? I’ve never seen it before.”
“This is where the portraits are kept.”
A maid following behind replied politely.
“After the previous Duke passed away, the master moved all the portraits here. That was when the main hall was converted into a military office.”
The previous Duke referred to Walter’s grandfather, Leonald. Mel rummaged through her hazy memories and recalled that he was a frightening grandfather.
“Does Walter resemble uncle Harry more or his grandfather?”
When she turned to ask, the maid smiled and nodded.
“When you see the young portrait of Leonald, it looks just like the master now. But the master didn’t seem to like that.”
Does he dislike resembling his grandfather? Mel wondered, grasping the doorknob.
“Can I just take a look and come right back out?”
“Ah, but you need the master’s permission…”
“I just want to see how much he resembles him. I’ll be quick!”
Mel stepped inside before the maid could stop her. The room revealed rows of portraits covered with cloth to protect them from fading.
Why doesn’t he want to see his ancestors’ faces? They’re family, after all. Thinking this, she walked slowly.
“Miss Melissa! Please just take a quick look and leave before someone sees you…”
