“Are they lovers?”

“More likely just a vulgar barbarian, like him.”

The nobles whispered amongst themselves as they watched the woman walk alongside the leader of the Trux tribe, the man who had killed the tyrant emperor and seized control of the imperial palace.

Some observed the man and the mysterious woman with contempt and fear, muttering, “Vulgar barbarian”.

Isabel ignored their whispers as she stepped into the center of the banquet hall beside him.

“There they are.”

Like Isabel, he paid no attention to what people said about him. But at that moment, his eyes lit up, he leaned in close and whispered in her ear. The cool breath against her skin made her eyelashes flutter.

“Right?”

Swallowing dryly, Isabel turned her head in the direction he indicated. At the very front, among the crowd of nobles, she saw two familiar faces.

‘Cedric… and… Anna.’

The moment she faced them, her entire body stiffened. He gave her a light push on the back.

“Go on.”

Having only just regained her composure at his touch, Isabel looked at them and started walking towards them. The closer she got, the faster her heart beat — so quickly that it felt as though it might burst.

But this was not excitement.

The emotion welling up inside her was hatred.

“It’s been a while.”

At last, standing before them, Isabel greeted them. A strange smile curved beneath her veil, and Cedric von Francia, Duke of Francia, frowned instinctively.

“…Do I know you?”

Isabel let out a soft laugh, as though his question amused her.

“Of course. I know you very well.”

Perhaps it was only then that he recognized her voice. Cedric’s amber eyes wavered with sudden uncertainty.

As his confusion deepened, Anna, who stood beside him, spoke carefully.

“Do you… have some connection with my husband?”

“My husband…?”

Taking her gaze off Cedric, Isabel turned to Anna, her expression twisted.

Lustrous golden hair. Beautiful emerald eyes. Isabel was disgusted by her striking features, and could not bear to see her acting so shamelessly, as if she belonged in the life she had stolen.

“Do you really think so?”

“…What?”

Anna’s eyes trembled at the incomprehensible question. Without hesitating, Isabel pulled off her veil.

As the fabric slipped away, revealing her face, Anna’s eyes widened as if they might burst.

Isabel watched with satisfaction as Anna’s face turned pale, it was the woman who had stolen her life and her body.

Gasp—

“Oh, my…!”

The nobles recognized her face for the first time and were overcome with shock. The woman beneath the veil was unmistakably the infamous villainess and murderer of the Grand Duke.

Anna.

She had once been a maid in the ducal house of Francia and had later become the duke’s mistress.

They were horrified to realize that the woman standing beside the leader of the Trux tribe was Anna herself.

A condemned criminal, standing before them, alive.

“Wasn’t she the duke’s mistress?”

“The one sentenced for killing the Grand Duke!”

“I heard Kentington Prison was burned to the ground, how is she alive and standing here?!”

Ignoring the nobles who pointed at her and called her “Anna,” and leaving behind Cedric, frozen in shock, Isabel turned her gaze toward the real Anna—who was now trembling in terror.

Yes… perhaps this was only natural.

To the woman who had stolen her perfect life—and even her body—and was now living as Isabel von Francia, Duchess of Francia, she must be the greatest nightmare of all.

‘Anna, who trampled my perfect life without mercy. Anna, who stole my body. The true murderer of the Grand Duke. And… the one who threw me into that dreadful prison.’

“How dare you, do you even know where you are?!”

Cedric glared at Isabel, his eyes contorted with shock and fury. He pulled Anna hastily behind him.

His earnest sincerity in playing the role of a devoted husband, shielding his wife, was almost laughable, given that she was not his true wife.

Suppressing her growing hatred, Isabel fixed a cold, unyielding gaze on the man trying so pathetically to protect Anna, and on Anna herself, who stood trembling, her face drained of color.

Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, Anna stepped out from behind Cedric and approached Isabel.

“H-How… Lady Isabel…?”

Anna murmured blankly, as though she had seen a ghost.

Isabel smiled sweetly at her.

“You shouldn’t call me Isabel here, Anna.”

Drawing closer, Isabel let a languid smile curve her lips and whispered by her ear—

“You should be calling me Anna.”

At her words, Anna snapped back to her senses and hurriedly looked around. People were whispering, staring at them. Even Cedric was watching the two women with confusion in his eyes.

“A-Anna…!”

Biting her lip tightly, Anna suddenly wrapped her arms around Isabel—boldly, shamelessly—raising her voice for all to hear.

“I heard you died in the prison fire… but you’re alive!”

Her eyes even shimmered with tears, as if she were genuinely moved.

“You have no idea how worried I was!”

At her audacious performance, Isabel’s gaze turned even colder.

“Yes… I lived.”

She held Anna’s gaze steadily.

“I endured that hellish time… survived it… and came back.”

For you, the one who stole my perfect life.

“The life you took from me.”

Isabel’s red-painted lips parted slightly as she met Anna’s eyes.

“Isn’t it time you returned what you stole?”

❖ ❖ ❖

Isabel von Francia, Duchess of Francia.

With her lustrous golden hair, emerald eyes, and a beauty that balanced quiet arrogance with noble grace, she embodied her lineage.

Whatever she wore or consumed became a trend at the height of high society. Everyone longed for even a moment of conversation with her.

But that perfection had not come easily. It was the result of relentless effort.

Thanks to this effort, Isabel’s life had been flawless.

Until Anna stole it all.

Isabel first met Anna on a day so dry and empty that it seemed as though it might crumble into dust at any moment.

“Hello, I’m Anna.”

Unlike other children, the girl had insisted on meeting Isabel in person. She followed the head maid, Rebecca, around persistently until her wish was granted.

At last, standing before Isabel, the girl introduced herself with a bright, radiant smile.

“I really like you, my lady!”

And with bold innocence, she even confessed it outright.

“I’m always in the kitchen, so I never get to see you. If I didn’t come forward like this, I’d never have the chance to speak with you. That’s why I begged Madam Rebecca to let me meet you.”

After that revelation — which was more of an admission than a confession — Isabel started seeing Anna more often.

Most of the time, this was when Anna had got into trouble and was being told off by Rebecca.

Even then, Anna’s eyes would light up the moment she saw Isabel, just like a puppy wagging its tail at its owner.

Anna was like a flower.

She was a child who shone like bright sunlight.

Whenever she ran into the rain and danced barefoot, she reminded Isabel of her mother, who was very different from other noblewomen who clung to etiquette and restraint. Her mother had been free.

Through Anna, Isabel found herself easing that quiet, aching longing.

In gratitude, Isabel grew close enough to give Anna gifts from time to time.

“Wow! Are you really giving this to me?”

They were usually pieces of jewelry Isabel had worn—things Anna would often gaze at with envy. Whenever Isabel gave Anna a gift, her eyes would fill with tears and she would throw her arms around her.

In return, Anna would sing or dance for Isabel just to make her smile.

Thanks to Anna, who brought life to an otherwise quiet and lifeless mansion, Isabel found herself laughing more often than she realized.

Perhaps that was why she turned a blind eye to the minor inconveniences Anna caused almost daily, and why she so easily dismissed Rebecca’s warnings not to become too attached.

“…What are you saying? Anna… going in and out of my husband’s bedroom?”

The very child who had followed her so sincerely—the one she had cherished—was entering her husband’s chambers?

Isabel let out a laugh.

“Rebecca, aren’t you mistaken? There’s no way she would do something like that.”

She knew better than anyone that her relationship with her husband, Cedric, was far from ordinary.

After all, he had been her friend since childhood and had always been by her side. If he hadn’t forgotten that, there was no way he would accept someone Isabel cared about.

Anna was no different.

She had always cared for Isabel with a sincerity that surpassed that of anyone else. This was precisely why Isabel trusted her so completely and why she simply could not bring herself to believe Rebecca.

“Serena saw it herself. Late last night, she went into the master’s bedroom… and didn’t come out until dawn.”

Seeing how firmly Isabel trusted Anna, Rebecca presented evidence.

“This is the pearl earring you gave Anna, isn’t it?”

Isabel, who had been dismissing everything Rebecca said, froze the moment she saw the earring in her hand.

“If, as you say, it wasn’t Anna who went into the master’s room, then how could this pearl earring end up on his bed?”

“…You’re saying this… was really found on Cedric’s bed?”

That couldn’t be.

Even as she picked up the earring with trembling, pale fingers, Isabel refused to believe it.

That the very child who had once comforted her… had been going in and out of Cedric’s bedroom.

“I told you, didn’t I! There’s something wrong with that girl. You should have thrown her out the day she tore your dress!”

From the outset, Rebecca disliked Anna and repeatedly urged Isabel to send her away. Anna was clumsy at her duties, and there was something deeply unsettling about the darkness lurking behind her seemingly innocent eyes.

Rebecca pressed the issue most strongly a few months ago when Anna tore one of Isabel’s dresses.

It was no ordinary dress. It had been made by Isabel’s mother, Cherbil von Lewen, shortly before her death, and Isabel treasured it above all else. It was the last memento she had of her mother.

Even Isabel had almost expelled Anna that day.

“I’ll fix it for you, I promise! You’ll like it, my lady!”

If only Anna hadn’t been so insistent that she could fix it and gone so far as to embroider butterflies and flowers over the torn fabric!

And if only she hadn’t reminded Isabel of her mother, who had mended her dress in the same way long ago by stitching butterflies and flowers into it!

If only she hadn’t brought back that long-forgotten memory.

Then perhaps, as Rebecca had urged, Isabel would have sent her away.

The fury that had surged within her vanished in an instant, leaving only a deep, aching longing for her mother.

Ultimately, Isabel had no choice but to forgive Anna for awakening those buried memories, and she has kept her by her side ever since.

But now…

It seemed that had been a mistake.