Chapter 2

“I’m the only one who knows about this, and it will stay that way. So, don’t say a word to anyone but me.”

The man deliberately crushed a burning cigar into the paper, even though it would have gone out on its own. A black stain formed next to the name of his dead brother.

“Just don’t get caught.”

“……”

“Your deadline is until the head of Heaven’s household wakes up and realizes you’re a fake—or until he takes his last breath. If you can hold out, I’ll reward you more than you’ve ever imagined.”

He stood up as if the conversation had ended. It was clear he expected Mel to follow him without question.

An eighteen-year-old commoner girl was hardly an obstacle to a man born into nobility. To Mel, it felt just as natural.

Yet, despite knowing this, she asked impulsively.

“What if… I do get caught?”

The man, who had been about to leave, turned back to look at her. His gaze from above made her shoulders shrink.

He bared his teeth in a grin. His unusually white teeth were chilling.

“You’ll get to see a familiar face again.”

A familiar… face?

At that moment, Mel’s eyes fell to his fingers.

She wasn’t sure if it was unconscious or something shapeless had drawn her gaze there. On his hand was the same pearl ring she’d noticed earlier.

It looked cheap at a glance, but something about it felt familiar. A dark stain marred its surface.

No.

It wasn’t a stain. It was blood. And that ring was something Mel knew all too well.

The realization twisted her lips.

“Did… did you kill Norma?”

“If you need to cry, hold it in for three minutes. I’ll be gone by then.”

“Oh.”

Mel pressed her hand under her nose.

‘Don’t cry. Don’t throw up. Don’t make a sound.’

She lowered her head, avoiding his eyes at all costs.

When his footsteps finally faded, she felt a wave of relief. She wanted him to leave quickly. But contrary to her wishes, he didn’t immediately turn the doorknob.

“Mel Slopey.”

“……”

“Mel.”

“……”

“Bleria.”

“…Yes.”

His laugh followed her strained response. The cheap ring rolled across the carpet and stopped at Mel’s feet. The doorknob turned. The door opened and shut. Thud.

Only then could Mel finally release everything she’d been holding in.

***

“Good night, My Lady.”

With the maid’s departure, Mel was finally alone.

The tears she’d been suppressing burst forth. Stifling her sobs, she sat up.

Everything felt foreign. The clothes were softer than cat fur, the room was cool despite it being midsummer, and the bed was so plush that her wrists sank into it—all of it terrified her.

But the most horrifying thing was the pearl ring on the bedside table.

Mel gazed at it with reddened eyes. Even in the darkness, its outline was unmistakable.

People had mocked it for being cheap, but it was Norma’s most valuable possession. She had never taken it off, never let her even glance at it.

And now, it was right in front of her.

‘Why did they kill Norma?’

She might have been harsh to her, but she was always respectful to the nobles. She was too timid to cross an influential aristocrat. At a single word from them, she would’ve backed off.

‘Did they not even consider that?’

Tears fell onto the worn ring.

Mel hated Norma. She had taken her in but treated her like a slave. All she felt was a bitter attachment, and she didn’t want to mourn out of sheer defiance.

Yet she couldn’t help but wonder. How had Norma died? Hit by a carriage? Fallen from a height? Or made to look like a suicide, unable to scream before she died?

When she imagined it, the face in her mind’s eye always morphed into her own.

“I don’t want to die.”

If her life had a price, it would be worth less than Norma’s cheap ring. Killing her would be far more manageable.

Mel buried her face in her knees.

It’s okay. Just follow orders. Once it’s over, you’ll earn a fortune. You’ll finally be free without Norma. Just survive…

But no matter how hard she tried to think positively, the tears wouldn’t stop. It felt like a massive boulder was weighing down her throat.

When Mel opened her eyes the following day, the maid pounced on her.

She wiped Mel’s face, tailored a large, expensive dress to fit her, and painstakingly styled her hair. Afterward, she led Mel to a room with a long dining table.

The two people from the previous day were already seated. An elderly man with graying hair and a younger man dressed in black. Mel shrank into her chair.

“Come here, child. You must have been so scared yesterday.”

The old man’s unexpected kindness put Mel at ease. She had never been treated gently before.

‘They said he mistook me for his dead daughter, right?’

“I heard Damien explain the situation to you…”

It was her first time hearing that name, but she knew exactly who it referred to. She glanced across the table before replying.

“Yes, the nobleman explained it to me.”

“Nobleman… He’s your brother.”

Did she mess up? She glanced at Damien, and their eyes met. His icy gaze froze her in place until she quickly lowered her head.

“Did Damien say anything harsh to you?”

“Oh, no! He was very kind. Truly.”

“…That’s good to hear. The family is small, isn’t it? Someone will be returning soon. A young lady named Harriet. She’s married to that sulking brother of yours. They’re separated because of his mistakes.”

“It’s not separation—it’s a retreat.”

“You’re the only one who sees it that way. Anyway, she’s a sweet girl. You’ll get along well. And your mother—”

Growl.

Her stomach rumbled loudly, cutting off the old man’s words.

Mel’s face flushed as she clutched her abdomen. The grumbling didn’t stop. Having eaten nothing since the day before, her body continued to protest. The old man chuckled awkwardly.

“I’ve talked too much. Let’s eat now.”

Finally, the conversation stopped, and the meal began.

Mel let out a sigh but couldn’t immediately start eating. She was used to drinking soup straight from the bowl and tearing bread with her hands, but the food in front of her looked far too precious for that.

She glanced sideways at the old man. His movements were slow, likely due to his age. Following his example, she placed the white napkin on her lap and picked up a fork, bringing a bite of salad to her mouth.

Mel’s eyes widened, and her hands sped up.

She only came back to her senses after finishing her portion. Embarrassed by the old man’s bright expression, she rubbed her now-warm stomach.

“Bleria.”

“Yes? Yes.”

“You don’t remember anything from your childhood, do you?”

Mel hesitated, her lips parting before she nodded. Guilt crept over her, making her shrink into herself.

“I’m not blaming you. Take your time to remember. There are many ways to help you. We’ve kept your old room intact, so you can go in and look at your childhood portraits if you’d like. Or, well…”

“……”

“Ahem, well. If it’s okay with you, would you mind if I brushed your hair later?”

Mel instinctively touched the back of her neck. Her hair was short and messy. Since a fever had turned it white, it had stayed that way. She didn’t like anyone touching her hair but couldn’t refuse.

“Yes, that’s fine.”

“You probably don’t remember, but I often brushed your hair when you were little. Do you recall anything at all—”

“If she remembered anything, she would’ve returned to Heaven estate by now.”

Damien’s cold voice interrupted the cautious question.

“Stop interrogating her. If you’ve overeaten, go see the physician. Kyle’s about to keel over.”

“Who’s overeating, you brat?”

“You, Father. The one who got excited threw aside his bland patient food and overindulged because the child joined in.”

“Damien!”

The old man raised his voice but quickly softened when he saw Mel. He cleared his throat.

“I’m not unwell, child. But I have an appointment, so I must go. Finish your meal.”

After casting a sharp glare at Damien, the old man left. Watching him go, Mel suddenly realized they were now alone. She sprang to her feet.

“Then, I-I’ll take my leave as well!”

“Sit down.”

Without a word, she sat back down. It was a ridiculous sight even to herself, but she had no choice.

Mel was afraid of Damien. The image of his chilling smile haunted her, keeping her awake at night. It was easier to endure when the old man was present, but now it was just the two.

Her head drooped like a poorly hammered nail, and it was as if she could feel hundreds of mice gnawing at her skin.

“Look up.”

Again, Mel obeyed. Her gaze flitted between Damien’s cheek and the shadows under his eyes. The mocking laughter that followed stung her ears.

“Even someone like her had someone to cry for her.”

“I-I wasn’t crying because of Norma.”

“Then, because you’re afraid you’ll die?”

Mel instinctively searched his expression, locking eyes with him.

His pale cheeks and dark circles framed his eyes, which were as emotionless as glass beads, making him look like a grim reaper.

Ah!

Mel nearly fell off her chair and dropped to her knees.

“P-Please spare me, noble sir! I swear I won’t get caught. I’ll do whatever you say. Please, I beg you!”

“Get up.”

“But—!”

“The servants are watching, but if you make a scene, they’ll hear.”

Damien pulled out a cigar. The chilling tone in his voice felt like a blade slicing through her as he lit the cigar, the flame licking at the tip.

“Are you trying to get caught early and make it easy for yourself?”

He exhaled a cloud of smoke, his gaze growing heavier as he looked down at her. Mel hesitantly got back to her feet and sat down again.

“You’re resentful, aren’t you?”