Chapter 2
“A-ha-ha!”
Peals of clear, bell-like laughter rang through the palace corridors. It came from the nobles attending the victory banquet held in honor of the Crown Prince, returning triumphant from the battles at the border.
“To think he achieved such a splendid victory.”
“I heard the Duke of Haswell lent his strength as well?”
“You mean Dominique Roman Haswell? The First Duke?”
“They say he too was summoned to the capital by His Majesty…”
The palace buzzed with voices, rumors carrying swiftly from mouth to mouth.
In the midst of this lively chatter, however, there was one corner that remained conspicuously still.
A long shadow stretched across the marble floor of a bright palace corridor.
The sound of water drops falling steadily into a fountain nearby echoed like the ticking of clock hands, marking the passage of time.
Plop, plop.
Amidst the gentle fall of droplets, a lone figure stood at the far end of the corridor that led to the Crown Prince’s palace.
Her silvery hair, as though spun from the purest threads of silver, was secured with an ornate hairpin and cascaded elegantly over her shoulders.
Sunlight poured over her features, a face serene and composed, a delicate neck, and a figure gracefully embraced by an immaculate dress.
The woman herself was a picture worthy of any masterpiece, standing perfectly still like a model from a portrait. So flawless was her bearing that none could find fault.
Plop…
Another droplet fell.
Two hours.
Kyrie Ehrenberg counted the passage of time by the falling drops from the fountain. It had been two hours now since she took her place in this corridor.
“She really doesn’t tire, does she?”
“Such an obstinate creature…”
The muttering of nobles invited to the court carried faintly from nearby.
“Mad dog, that one.”
Kyrie heard their words and allowed the corner of her lips to curl in a faint smile. The color drained from the faces of those who had been so bold as to speak ill of her aloud.
How tiresome.
Such stale slander wasn’t enough to wound her now.
It was at that moment that a man, his steps heavy with displeasure, approached. Every stride radiated his obvious irritation.
“How much longer do you intend to disgrace the family’s name with this foolish defiance?”
“Mind your own business, Johansson.”
“That’s no way to speak to your elder brother.”
Her second brother, Johanssen, frowned. The only thing the two of them shared was the fine line of their features, nothing more.
Brother? What a laughable pretense.
A familiar hint of citrus clung to him. It wasn’t his own scent, but one transferred from someone else.
“How much more humiliation must our family endure before you’re satisfied?”
“Humiliation? All I’ve done is stand here, Johansson.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You, just by existing….”
“Why not go find Elise instead?”
Just as he began to repeat one of his tiresome complaints, Kyrie cut him off with a sudden jab.
“…Don’t bring her up.”
“Oh? Did Baron Veron snatch her away from you, then?”
At her remark, Johanssen’s expression stiffened. It seemed her words struck a nerve. Kyrie sang softly, her voice almost melodic.
“I see now. Elise must have insisted on being accompanied by the elder brother, since the second one couldn’t be trusted.”
Her gaze flicked toward a figure standing not far away, Veron. He was watching them with a brooding expression. But the one who ought to have been by his side was nowhere to be seen.
“For all that, she doesn’t seem to be with Veron either.”
“……”
“Ah, our precious Elise Ehrenberg must be in high demand today.”
“I told you, leave Elise out of this, Kyrie.”
“Why? What harm have I ever done to her?”
“You…”
“Ah. Could it be because of that?”
Kyrie’s tone softened, almost gentle.
“Because I poisoned her mother?”
“Kyrie!”
“Or perhaps, because I left a dead rat in her bed?”
Her words, spoken with an untroubled smile, drained the color from Johanssen’s face. He bared his teeth, spitting out his words as though they were venom.
“You’re completely insane.”
How unoriginal.
Kyrie smiled brightly, as though outshining the roses blooming along the corridor.
“I was born wrong from the very start, remember?”
She was the third child of Duke Ehrenberg, the youngest of two sons and a daughter.
Born at the cost of her mother’s life, Kyrie had inherited the silver hair of her maternal grandfather.
That man had been the fiercest opponent of the Duke and Duchess’s union. He was the Duke’s most loathed enemy.
And so it was that the Duke’s cherished wife died giving birth to a daughter who bore the hated man’s likeness.
For a man like Duke Ehrenberg, who had once feared nothing in this world, the disgrace was unbearable.
From the moment she was born, Kyrie was shut away, a wretched girl exiled to the shadows of the house.
Poor girl.
At least her nanny had loved her. The nanny always held Kyrie close and protected her.
But even that did not last.
‘Hello, Lady Kyrie.’
‘Who are you?’
‘I will soon be your new mother.’
‘New mother? Mama?’
Five years after his wife’s death, Duke Ehrenberg scandalized high society by bringing home an actress, a woman the very image of his deceased wife.
Some whispered it was a love that defied station, others insisted the Duke was obsessed, unable to let his dead wife go.
What made it worse was that the actress came with a daughter Kyrie’s age.
The young Kyrie had understood nothing. All she knew was the one unshakeable truth she held dear.
‘My mama is my nanny. I don’t need any other.’
There had been no malice in it. It was the simple, honest belief of a child who knew kindness only from her nanny. The only one who had ever shown her warmth.
But her innocent words spread among the servants, growing exaggerated and twisted, until it was said that the legitimate daughter had viciously scorned her father’s new wife.
That night, the nanny was beaten and discarded like a worthless thing. Kyrie had flown into a desperate, screaming rage, overturning the ducal manor.
‘Bring back my nanny!’
The Duke said nothing. He simply had her thrown into the punishment chamber. The maids exchanged glances, disgusted.
‘She’s no cute little thing, is she?’
‘The new lady Elise is nothing like that. No wonder she’s hated.’
Let them hate me.
So long as she could have back the one person who loved her.
But the nanny never returned.
And from that day, the rumors began.
‘Did you hear? Kyrie Ehrenberg put a dead rat in her new sister’s bed!’
‘She smashed up the Duke’s office with a hatchet, they say.’
‘She even slapped the daughter of a visiting countess!’
Every month seemed to bring a new story of her madness. It was soon whispered across the land, the youngest daughter of the Ehrenberg family was not in her right mind.
The rumors reached a crescendo ten years later, at her stepmother’s funeral.
‘Mother…’
‘Do not cry, Elise.’
The actress who had become Duchess after Kyrie’s mother died, herself succumbed to illness. Even then, Kyrie’s name did not leave people’s lips.
‘They say Lady Kyrie poisoned her.’
‘Is it true?’
‘They say she secretly laced her tea with poison…’
Even as people openly murmured about her, Kyrie sat upright and unshaken, her gaze fixed upon the coffin.
When she finally rose, she snatched the pendant necklace from the corpse’s neck.
‘Somebody stop her!’
‘What kind of monstrous creature was born into such a noble house?’
‘She’s not a girl. She’s a mad dog!’
Even as people grabbed at her, Kyrie would not let go of that necklace.
Not when the knights bent her arms, not when her fingernails cracked and her hands bled.
It was only when Veron and Johanssen struck her down that the madness abated.
And Kyrie, pendant in hand, was thrown into confinement.
The pendant still hung at her throat now, catching the palace lights.
At the sight of it, Johanssen’s expression twisted with loathing.
“How did something like you get born into our family?”
“You should’ve begged Father not to let me be born.”
His hand clenched, knuckles white. Kyrie, watching that fist, remembered how those very hands had struck her down at the funeral.
“You disgraceful thing!”
“Why don’t you just die!”
And behind them all, Elise, dabbing at fake tears while secretly smiling.
The pendant had once been a keepsake from her mother, left with Kyrie by the nanny.
After the nanny vanished, it had disappeared too, only to surface again, ten years later, around her stepmother’s cold neck.
But Kyrie said nothing of it.
The following year, she made her debut and began following the Crown Prince wherever he went.
Even as people called her a mad dog and a leech, she cared nothing for their opinions.
Johansson recoiled, as though he could no longer bear to look at her.
“Do you really think His Highness would even spare a glance for you?”
“Who knows?”
Just then, as Kyrie glanced toward the Crown Prince’s palace…
“…?”
Something glittered behind the drawing room curtains. A flash of silver, like her own hair.