Chapter 29
The delicate, trembling eyelashes of a light hazel hue gradually ceased their quivering, and at last, her eyelids lifted.
Above her was the same ceiling she had grown weary of seeing over the past year.
“My lady, you have awakened!”
“My daughter, are you alright?”
The countess’s voice soon followed, trembling with emotion.
Upon confirming Diana’s awakening, the countess let out a long breath of relief.
Unlike the count, she was not adept at feigning emotions. The sorrow in her voice and expression, which did not suit her well, only made her appear more wretched.
“Lily… How did this happen…?”
Behind her, the count silently rubbed his face in a show of distress, playing the part of a grieving father mourning his daughter’s misfortune.
Unlike the countess, there was nothing unnatural about his act. His hypocrisy made Diana’s blood run cold.
Had she the strength, she would have risked all the dangers in the world just to spit in their faces.
“It must be difficult for you to speak. How… so suddenly, you fell down the stairs… Had I not found you in time, who knows what might have happened?”
“My dear, let’s give her time to recover. She has only just awakened.”
“You’re right. I was too hasty. My daughter, if you need anything, just ring the bell. I’ll have a few attendants stationed outside the door.”
They continued the conversation on her behalf, as if performing a rehearsed play, spinning explanations for the servants standing nearby.
It was clear they intended to remain in the room until she acknowledged their performance.
Desperate for them to leave, Diana forced herself to nod.
At last, the count and countess took their leave.
Just as she was beginning to savor the quiet and embrace the fatigue washing over her, the door creaked open once more.
“My daughter.”
It was the count’s voice.
Startled, Diana’s eyes flew open.
She struggled to lift her head and, with some effort, managed to see the count, his posture oddly subdued, approaching her bedside.
“T-That…”
Her lips, parched and heavy, refused to form words.
She clenched her eyes shut, instinctively bracing herself for the scolding that always followed whenever she stammered like a fool.
But contrary to her expectations, what met her was a gentle touch.
“My child, I am sorry. I have been too harsh.”
The count knelt beside her, his posture deliberately conveying sincerity.
“I only acted that way because I was worried. Not just for our house, but for you as well. You understand what will happen should your identity ever be discovered.”
“…”
“I cannot bear to lose you as I lost Lillian. And so, even though I knew it was wrong, I did what I did, hoping you would realize the danger you are in.”
He spoke in a measured, deliberate manner, as if reading from a script, each word carefully enunciated.
His voice, at once laden with emotion yet curiously hollow, made Diana blink in uncertainty.
Who was he speaking to?
To her sister? Or to herself?
Given the flicker of genuine sentiment, it was surely meant for Lillian. And yet, the concern was too feeble, too insubstantial to befit true grief.
“Will you forgive this wretched father of yours? I was blind. I was so focused on looking ahead that I failed to see the pain I was causing you.”
With a pained expression, the count gently traced his fingers over the scab that had formed near her lips.
Both Diana and Lillian.
He was grieving not for her, but for the face she wore.
That was all.
Diana stared at him, watching how he carefully measured his own emotions. For all his efforts, what was it that truly frightened him?
Was he afraid that I might run away?
That she would abandon the duty forced upon her? That she would leave, exposing the truth and leading the house to ruin?
Naturally, her own suffering meant nothing to him.
The overwhelming nausea that had been building within her surged violently. Though she had not eaten, her body instinctively recoiled, desperate to expel the festering resentment knotted inside her.
“…I wish to rest.”
Suppressing her emotions, Diana barely managed to force the words out.
“…Very well. Rest well.”
Without another word, the count rose to his feet. The warmth of his lingering touch slipped away.
Bang!
The door slammed shut.
The undignified manner in which it was closed made Diana chuckle dryly.
How amusing that he insisted on making his frustration so apparent. Even now, when it came to her, he remained as unkind as ever.
For a long moment, Diana simply stared at the space where he had stood before turning her head.
Beside her bed, atop a Rococo-style table, lay numerous bouquets.
They were gifts, tokens of sympathy for her illness.
Every single one was a lily. Some were pristine white, others dyed in vibrant hues through magic.
The lilies prepared by the count and countess were particularly exquisite—immaculate petals, delicate stamens, each bloom perfectly arranged.
The similarly elegant ones had been arranged by her father’s closest associates, while the more modest, less refined bouquets were the handiwork of mere servants.
They were Lillian’s favorite flowers.
“I should be happy…”
It was Diana’s heart that had festered and torn apart, yet everyone was mourning for Lillian.
At the very edge of the table, barely clinging to its surface, was a single violet-hued flower—lavender, carefully prepared by Ersivan.
With a faint groan, Diana slowly pushed herself up.
Her entire body ached as if she had truly tumbled down the stairs, but she paid no mind to the pain, stretching out her legs and stepping forward.
It took five steps before she reached the table. Her unfocused gaze finally settled on the lone flower, its distinct color standing apart from the sea of lilies.
“…Ha.”
A hollow laugh escaped through her lips.
“…This one… is for me.”
Amidst the overwhelming fragrance of lilies—a scent she could never find comforting—it was the only thing that embraced her.
A gentle aroma wafted toward her, carrying a warmth that, absurdly enough, she could feel in her very being.
Lowering her gaze, she saw the countless lilies spread before her. Lillian had adored them, but Diana could never bring herself to love them.
Perhaps it was the only proof that separated the real from the false.
Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over uncontrollably. Though she had grown into an adult, she still felt so unbearably fragile.
“A gift meant for me… Why must it be you of all people…?”
While everyone else fixated on Lillian, only he had noticed the one who had slipped through the cracks—Diana.
Even though he could be the one to kill me.
Truly,
Even though, if he knew the truth, he might find me revolting…
What a ridiculous situation.
And yet… he’s the one who saved me.
A short breath, another quiet chuckle.
Why… why must it be you?
Diana had always wanted to be acknowledged, to appear flawless in the eyes of others. But deep down, she had also longed for someone—anyone—to recognize the imperfections she had failed to completely conceal.
It was a contradiction, an impossible desire. And yet, she felt that if someone truly saw her, she might finally be able to breathe.
It could have been anyone.
Lillian’s closest attendants would have noticed something was amiss soon enough.
And indeed, they had.
But they had only ever responded with, “My lady has never been like this.” They demanded that she return to her former self, as if even with her memory erased, the beloved lady’s transformation could not be tolerated.
Why was it you who recognized me?
Diana swept her hand across the table, sending the perfectly arranged bouquets crashing to the floor.
The once-lovely flowers lay scattered, now pitifully trampled underfoot.
The only one that remained was the lavender she had held tightly in her left hand.
Why did you see me? Why did you make me want to be held?
She desperately wanted to ask.
What had made him so certain that she would love lavender?
Why had he noticed what Diana liked, not Lillian?
Why… of all people, why was he the first to peer into the depths of her heart?
Using her recovery as an excuse, Diana refused to step outside, spending her days lying in bed, letting time slip away.
At times, she could hear the murmurs of attendants beyond the door. Some worried about her, while others grumbled, wondering if she was merely seeking attention.
By now, it would have been typical for her family to visit and chastise her, but that never happened.
Her body was healing, albeit slowly.
The bruises that had marred her pale skin faded like stains being washed away. The weakened bones in her body gradually regained their strength.
And once she was fully healed, she was finally granted permission to return to Valencia.
It was the fifteenth day since she had been staying at the count’s residence.
The preparations for her return to the Valencia estate began. Seated in her room, Diana silently allowed the maids to attend to her.
Her reflection in the mirror remained elegant and beautiful. Though her complexion was pale and her features gaunt, as if she had gone without food for days, she was still presentable.
Diana instructed the maid in charge of her makeup to be more meticulous.
“Oh my, I’ll do my best. You must want to look pretty for His Highness!”
How affectionate. The maid added her own interpretation, diligently enhancing Diana’s appearance with delicate touches.
But she had no desire to look beautiful. She simply didn’t want anyone to notice how emaciated she had become.
After nearly an hour, the preparations were complete.
Diana descended to the first floor.
There, waiting to see her off, were the count and countess.
The moment they saw her, their faces lit up with joy. Their expressions were filled with delight, welcoming her departure with bright smiles.
