Chapter 1: Consummation on the Night of the New Moon (13)

“Hmm…”

Just then, a man’s voice echoed from the balcony—where no one should have been.

So startled, Larie couldn’t even scream. She flinched and turned around. To her shock, the intruder on the balcony was her brother, Gafel.

“…B-brother…?”

He seemed to have jumped over from the neighboring balcony, climbing the railing—something that should never be done in the imperial palace. But his expression was utterly unbothered.

“Well? Did that Avnir bastard lose his temper?”

Taking a step closer, he asked something disturbingly strange. His question—whether Terian had gotten angry—sent a chill through her.

“What are you—”

“Not your concern.”

Something was wrong. Every instinct screamed she shouldn’t be here. Larie began to retreat, edging toward the curtains.

“Don’t start acting stupid now.”

Gafel’s voice remained low, like he was doing something that had to be kept secret.

Then—smack. The sharp sound of skin against skin cracked through the air.

“…Ah…”

Suddenly, he struck her. The force sent her collapsing to the floor. Her head spun so badly from the blow, she couldn’t see straight.

“Keep that mouth of yours shut. Got it?”

He loomed over her, growling the words before disappearing—vanishing again over the balcony ledge. His retreating figure blurred in her vision, spinning with dizziness.

What… just happened?

It had been a long time since her brother had last hit her, but her body remembered the fear. She froze, rigid with panic. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, like her lungs might burst.

And then her instincts screamed even louder. He struck her where it would show. She couldn’t stay here.

“Larie?”

But fate wasn’t on her side. Just as she tried to gather herself, she heard the balcony curtain swing open—far too wide.

“Oh, my goodness!”

It was her mother. And moments later, her mother’s piercing scream rang through the ballroom.

Three days had passed since the incident at the banquet.

Before Larie even had the chance to cover her face, the sting of countless eyes pierced the interior of the balcony.

“Your Grace! What on earth have you done? Look at her cheek!”

Her mother shouted, without hesitation, across the hall toward Terian.

It felt like being shoved onto the stage of an opera—humiliated, with not a single thread of her will respected. Everything was spiraling, far beyond her control.

Through the gradually clearing haze in her vision, she saw the dark silhouette of his hair.

“So now it’s come to staging scenes, has it, Baroness Tromperie?”

“Staging? You beat our Larie, and now you’re denying it?”

No… no, that’s not it.

Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes. She shook her head weakly, instinctively trying to deny it, but her mother rushed to her side.

“Oh my, the poor thing must be in shock.”

After all her shouting, her mother finally pulled Larie into a cold embrace.

She couldn’t even speak. Her mouth was metaphorically sewn shut.

“Larie, my poor girl.”

No. It’s not like that. I didn’t want this.

She could feel her mother’s frosty eyes on her—eyes angled just so that only Larie could see them, hidden from the others.

Her vision slowly returned to normal. As soon as she could make out shapes again, she turned urgently toward Terian.

“…Ah.”

His gaze cut through her with boundless contempt.

“I will formally bring this to the noble council! On such a day of celebration—what a barbaric act!”

“…….”

The sound that vibrated through her wasn’t heard, but felt—like her soul cracking apart.

The strength drained from her lips, clenched shut until now.

The will she had barely been holding onto melted away into the thick summer air, leaving behind nothing but a sticky, wretched residue.

This was all her fault.

Because she was a filthy Tromperie.

Because she was too powerless to stop any of it.

❖ ❖ ❖

Three days had passed since the incident at the banquet.

After spending an entire day in a daze, Larie had gone—for the first time since arriving at the Grand Duke’s estate—to seek out Terian in his office. Even if it meant being dragged back to her family’s villa, she had wanted to explain herself.

But Terian had refused to see her.

The resolve she had barely gathered crumbled again like a sandcastle washed away by a wave.

Since then, she had shut herself away in her room. Days passed with her nothing more than a fallen leaf, drained of life, merely existing.

Until today—when the Grand Duchess summoned her.

“You’ve come. Sit there.”

Susan had come to tell her that the Grand Duchess wished to see her. Larie felt deeply ashamed when Susan’s eyes fell on her still-swollen face.

She made her way to the study in the main residence, not the annex. Upon arrival, she found the Grand Duchess and her brother, the Marquis of Fridas, waiting.

She had foolishly, perhaps even involuntarily, wondered if Terian might be there.

“……Good afternoon.”

“There is nothing good about it.”

“Ahem……”

She had expected a curt reply, but what she received was downright frigid. It was the first time she had seen the Grand Duchess’s face since the poisoning incident—and her expression was glacial.

The Marquis of Fridas said nothing at all.

“I believe you already know why you were summoned.”

“……”

Larie couldn’t bring herself to answer. She simply stared blankly at the table in front of her.

“What were you thinking? Baron Tromperie has not even responded to the official letters.”

The Marquis finally spoke, his voice low and tightly restrained.

Though Terian had properly inherited the position of Grand Duke, the marquis’s support had not vanished. The situation remained complicated. Even if he hadn’t made any formal declarations like the Tromperies had, the Marquis and several other nobles were vocal supporters of Terian’s claim to the throne.

With no word from her family, it was clear they had called Larie out of sheer frustration.

She too must have looked like a direct player in this mess.

“They’re clearly doing it on purpose—manufacturing one scandal after another to chip away at Terian.”

If only someone had asked what really happened that day, she could’ve answered. She could’ve said she hadn’t expected any of it either.

But the Grand Duchess, clearly furious, continued to press Larie hard. It was the angriest she had ever seen her since the marriage—so much so that Larie didn’t dare open her mouth.

“The noble council? It’s an outrageous accusation. But even just being referred to the council will leave a stain on Terian. It could jeopardize his succession. Isn’t that right?”

Only then did Larie begin to understand the full extent of her family’s scheme. It wasn’t just about this one incident.

The plan must have been to create repeated doubts about Terian—to slowly change the perception of the people.

And in the process, she would be torn apart like a discarded draft of a battle plan.

“Whether you bear a child, or the Emperor’s cousin inherits instead, the Tromperies plan to devour the next regime either way.”

“It’s even filthier than that. Their goal is to shake the very legitimacy of the throne, regardless of who takes it—so their faction of nobles can hold all the power.”

If Terian were somehow stripped of his claim, any child of his would also have their legitimacy cast into doubt. Just like the Emperor’s distant cousin, the child’s claim would be diminished.

Cold sweat ran down her back. While she had been foolishly breathing in ignorance, her family had been plotting something truly terrifying.

The weight of it all threatened to crush her.

‘Someone, please… help me…

Her soul, weakened to its core, instinctively reached for something—anything—to lean on.

Larie’s gaze drifted toward the Grand Duchess.

Despite the ice in her eyes now, she had once been the warmest person in the estate to Larie.

It might not be too late—even now. If she could just tell the truth…

“Ac-actually, the m-medicine I took… it wasn’t poison.”

“It wasn’t poison?”

Larie was desperate. She felt she had to explain the incident that had first caused the Grand Duchess to truly lose trust in her.

“Yes. It was… it was a medicine to prevent pregnancy… and, that day… my brother… he climbed over the balcony and…”

She also wanted to reveal that the Tromperie family had no intention of allowing an heir to be born into the ducal house. Even if her battered mind couldn’t fully grasp their motives, she knew it mattered.

But the reply that crossed the study was even colder than before.

“You think we’ll believe such a clumsy excuse now?”

“I… I…”

Startled, Larie looked up. The faces of the two nobles were more furious than ever.

“Whether it was the baron’s son or yourself who assaulted the Duchess that day, how does it change anything?”

“I… I didn’t…”

“So Tromperie staged a spectacle. What are you trying to accomplish by bringing it up now?”

“…”

Only then did Larie realize how short-sighted she had been, backed into a corner and barely thinking clearly.

To bring this up now—of course it would look like just another ploy.

Slam.

“…It seems you’ve no real intention of talking. You may go.”

Perhaps… she was already too late.

Bowing low, Larie stood and trudged from the study, her steps unsteady. Just before exiting, her eyes met the twisted grimace of Marquis Fridas.

“Father said… he wanted to steal the blueprints…”

“…What are you talking about—”

“I’m sorry.”

She bowed again, not even knowing what she was saying anymore. As long as she carried the name Tromperie, she would always be the guilty one.

There was no one along the hall on her way back. It was as if no one in the entire manor wished to cross paths with her.

She felt like a withered, lifeless tree—so dry that even rainwater could no longer revive it.

❖ ❖ ❖

The next day came.

Larie had barely slept through the night. With dark, sunken eyes, she stared out the window.

No matter how dark the night, the sun still rose. No matter how shadowy the forest, sunlight still managed to pierce through the leaves.

But Larie couldn’t feel the truth of that natural rhythm. The sun that rose day after day never seemed to shine into her room.

“…I feel like I forgot something…”

From the morning on, unease and discomfort clung to her. Maybe it was because her family was supposed to visit again today.

Larie tried to calm the nausea swirling in her stomach. Surely they wouldn’t come see her again as if nothing had happened.

Still, she had been left behind in what felt like enemy territory. And strangely enough, that brought a sense of peace.

She picked at the food the maid brought and barely touched it, then went through the motions of basic grooming. As she brushed her hair like a broken doll, her gaze fell on the small calendar beside the mirror.

She began counting the days without thinking—until her heart dropped with a heavy thud.

“….”

She should’ve gotten her period already. But it hadn’t come.

It was only a few days late, but she hadn’t noticed sooner. Without a personal maid, there had been no one nearby to keep track of such things. And after everything that had happened at the banquet, her mind had been completely elsewhere.

No way. It must just be a little delayed.