Chapter 7: The Empress’s Gift

Two figures stood before the grand doors.

Just hours earlier, they had read their marriage vows aloud and sworn eternal love.

But now that the performance was over, the couple’s gazes never met.

‘Are you all right? Does it hurt? Are you breathing? Why aren’t you struggling, why are you just lying there, why!’

‘It’s my fault. I was too slow, that’s all.’

‘Hang on. There should be some medicine nearby, let me at least take care of this quickly—!’

‘I’m really fine, my lady. Don’t waste your time on me. Please, just go.’

After the commotion, Carlisle had left first, and Timo composed herself with admirable grace.

Yet, that very composure only made Leilia more upset.

“Don’t project. She’s not me.”

Leilia muttered to herself, trying to reorganize her swirling thoughts.

After four lifetimes of returning, she’d learned to live each day washed out and colorless.

She’d cut all attachments, tidied away her regrets, and deliberately kept people at arm’s length.

Maybe that’s why.

Even the smallest changes in her emotions now made her uncomfortable, annoyed.

And the man standing so brazenly beside her was no exception.

Annoyed. Uncomfortable.

“The guests are enjoying the wine served after dinner, and the mood is good. The party’s in full swing, so you’ll be expected to enter soon.”

One of the servants, noticing Carlisle, quietly reported this in a calm voice.

He then bowed his head politely to Leilia, who stood beside his master.

Ethan Schubert.

He was one of those faces she’d grown sick of seeing at the duchy over her four lives.

Carlisle’s long-serving aide, he was as meticulous and cold as his lord, and his looks were just as distinguished.

But just because someone looks put together on the outside doesn’t mean they are inside.

Even after all these lifetimes, Leilia had exchanged fewer than ten words with Schubert, and those few times had been little more than polite obligation.

She’d never once felt any true respect from him.

Looking back now, Leilia couldn’t help but wonder if Ethan Schubert had known all along—

that Leilia Charlotte could never truly become the mistress of Liston.

As these unwanted memories suddenly rose to the surface, she knit her brows in frustration.

All she wanted was for this meaningless charade to end so she could finally rest, but the past kept intruding at the worst possible moments.

“When will our illustrious couple finally make their entrance? Even if it’s the Liston family, isn’t it rude to keep the guests waiting like this?”

“Maybe they’re already rolling around somewhere. Can’t even wait for the wedding night, can they?”

“Come to think of it, Charlotte’s a piece of work. Looks like everything’s about to fall apart, and yet she always survives to the end. Impressive, in a way.”

The unknown voices and shrill laughter echoing from inside only added to Leilia’s fatigue.

The pounding headache made her lower her gaze and pinch her brow.

Then, with a huff of air, Carlisle’s voice split the silence.

“Nervous? You were chatting away like a lunatic just a little while ago.”

How could every word from him be so grating?

In times like this, she almost wished he’d just keep his mouth shut.

The fact that she’d ever loved that filthy mouth was astonishing.

“Let’s just say I’m tired.”

“There’s nothing difficult about it. All you have to do is act like you’re madly in love in front of those drunks. I care about appearances more than anyone.”

“Why not just hire an actress? It’d be a lot easier for both of us.”

“They’re usually of common birth. A well-bred pureblood is more pleasing to the eye, and to hold.”

Carlisle cocked his head, then slowly bent down to meet her eyes, his gaze as cold and unyielding as if she were just another possession.

“This is your first test. Prove your worth.”

He spoke in a low murmur as his rough hand brushed against her pale cheek, his fingers lingering with disturbing familiarity on her lips.

His sharp gaze twisted with amusement, as if he’d found an entertaining new toy.

“If you want something, you’d better learn to act for it.”

***

“The Duke of Liston seems absolutely smitten with his wife. He hasn’t taken his eyes off her all evening.”

At someone’s comment, Carlisle flashed a congenial smile, and then—almost theatrically—wrapped his arm around Leilia’s waist, pulling her close.

“My wife has so little experience with society, I can’t help but watch over her. If I’d known, I would have thrown a small party before the ball… She’s like a child tossed into the water, and, honestly, she’s just too pretty.”

“Oh my, is it true your marriage wasn’t arranged but a love match after all?”

“Quite unusual in noble circles, isn’t it?”

With those words, a blush quickly spread across the gathered ladies’ cheeks.

Leilia nearly let out a hollow laugh. How could he lie so convincingly without even blinking?

“Oh, the two of you are so romantic! I never imagined the duke had such a side…”

With that, Leilia let out a small sigh and closed her eyes tight.

All she could think about was escaping this noisy, exhausting place—she had no room left for any other thought.

“Tired, are you?”

A gentle voice slipped through her closed eyelids.

Just listening to it, she thought he might be the real actor here.

Almost as if rewarding his audience, Carlisle softly stroked her forehead and slowly smoothed her silver hair.

The feeling of his touch crawling over her skin made her want to recoil, but Leilia endured.

Judging by Carlisle’s behavior so far, the odds of him handing over ‘Gridana’ were almost zero.

There was no sense in provoking him any further in this situation.

Maybe just this once, she’d let him win.

With that in mind, she kept her eyes closed and leaned back against him, nuzzling into his broad chest like a child seeking comfort.

Because of the stark difference in their sizes, she ended up almost buried in him—but it didn’t matter.

Her heart was no longer so alive that she’d react to mere skin contact.

“Ten minutes. The actress takes her leave in exactly ten minutes. It’s been so long since I was last on stage, I’m tired.”

“That’s a pity. With you clinging like that, I almost thought you’d fallen in love for real.”

“You’re really delusional.”

“It’s not a delusion. Let’s call it a prediction.”

“Seems your fortune’s off this time.”

Just as Leilia continued exchanging pointed whispers with Carlisle, the doors to the ballroom swung open, and a procession of men in imperial dress uniforms marched in one after another.

The sight startled the crowd, but only one person, Leilia, stared at them with a cold, hardened expression.

“Duchess of Liston?”

The man at the head of the group called her name.

When golden eyes met his, he glanced over his shoulder.

In moments, a wooden box, about the length of two palms, was brought forward and placed in his hands.

It was trimmed in gold—clearly not an ordinary gift.

No fool could fail to recognize those uniforms as the formal attire of the Imperial Household.

“Some things really never change.”

Leilia muttered, eyes fixed on the box.

You’d think after five repetitions, something would finally be different, but here she was, trapped in the same mold, the same reality.

“We bring the peace of the Empire. Empress Claudia herself sends a personal gift to bless House Liston. Duchess of Liston, may you treasure the Empress’s grace.”

***

“My lady! This is just amazing. The Empress herself sending a wedding gift—it has to be a dream, right?”

Timo’s voice echoed down the hallway, brimming with excitement.

They’d slipped out of the ballroom amid the commotion, but the mood was far from pleasant.

The exhausting pace had left Leilia worn out, and that ornate box clutched in Timo’s arms was more irritating than anything.

“Did you see everyone’s faces? They were so jealous, I almost couldn’t keep my head up. If a mere noblewoman can move the Imperial Family, just imagine how great the Duke must be! Honestly, I respect—Ow!”

As Timo’s chatter went on, Leilia suddenly stopped, turning back.

The reddish marks all over Timo’s skin still bore witness to Carlisle’s roughness from earlier.

“Do you have no pride?”

“Huh? What do you mean by that all of a sudden?”

“You seem positively cheerful for someone who was just treated like that.”

“Oh, that? It’s already over.”

“Timo, being kind isn’t the same as being stupid. Your neck is covered in scratches, and yet you’re singing the praises of the dog who did it. Doesn’t that strike you as a bit of a joke?”

“I’m just a maid. I get paid, so there’s no need for him to be nice to me. As long as he’s good to you, that’s all that matters.”

“That’s what you call being good to someone?”

“Well, at least he doesn’t hit me. He only threatened me—didn’t seem like he wanted to actually kill me.”

“You really—!”

Leilia pounded her chest, swallowing her anger.

Just then, a familiar voice called out from down the hall.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

Marie, who’d just entered her middle years, had been the head housekeeper at Liston for as long as the family had existed.

Familiar as her face was, Leilia felt more weary than relieved—perhaps because there were so few memories worth remembering.

“I’ll show you to your quarters.”

Following Marie, they were soon led into the splendor of the Liston estate’s lavish interior.

Glittering chandeliers hung from high ceilings, ornate walls, expensive furnishings, and exotic plants from around the world filled the three-story mansion to bursting.

Unlike the indifferent Leilia, Timo couldn’t stop exclaiming—“Wow,” “It’s so pretty,” and other delighted noises.

It was a bit like watching her own younger self, so Leilia didn’t bother correcting her.

“You’ll be staying here for a while. Rest now; I’ll have a bath prepared.”

Marie said, bowing before slipping from the room.

As she left, Timo—now beaming—opened the box.

Atop the table stood a finely carved bird figurine, gleaming with a polished finish.

‘Don’t think you’re safe just because you survived for now.’

The sight of that old keepsake brought back the ghost of a voice she thought she’d forgotten.

She used to wonder how she’d feel if they ever met again.

Now, as she stared at it, all she felt was disgust.

“Young lady, where do you think we should put the statue? Since it’s a special gift from the Empress, we should probably display it somewhere everyone can see, right?”

At the innocent question, Leilia curled up both corners of her lips and approached the statue.

Like she was admiring a work of art, her long lashes fluttered downward.

After a brief silence, she reached out with her pale, slender fingers and traced a curve over the statue.

In her mind, the image of that woman’s cruel smile replayed again and again, like a stuck record.

“I wonder. Where should we put it? Since someone so important sent it, I suppose it deserves special treatment, don’t you think?”

Leilia murmured quietly, her expression shifting in an instant.

Then—crash! With a sharp, splintering sound, the flawless bird statue shattered into pieces.