Chapter 9

“There was a small estate in the South owned by a gambler couple,” he began as though recounting a playful story. His gloved hands sifted through the baby’s breath, the motion deliberate and mesmerizing.

“They had a stunningly beautiful daughter. They kept her locked up at home, saying they’d wager her as collateral once she grew older. The family was drowning in debt, constantly borrowing money and fleeing from creditors. Then, during one of their escapes, the daughter fell ill.”

Snap. A delicate flowerhead broke off.

“They had no money for medicine, and she seemed on the verge of death. They decided to leave her behind and run. A midwife who was owed money by the couple found the child. She said the girl’s hair was as white as an old man’s.”

More flowers fell, scattering. Some landed on the floor beneath the table, others in the spilled tea, and others were crushed, leaving marks on his black gloves.

The largest flower remained frozen in place.

“That happened ten years ago, oddly enough. At that time, Lady Heaven was still alive and well.”

He stopped crushing the baby’s breath and straightened. He gazed down at her from his new vantage point, towering over Mel.

“Shall we hear your explanation now?”

“…That’s not me. You’re wrong.”

“Then, who were you originally? Tell me where and what you did before returning as Heaven’s daughter.”

“I… I can’t. But it’s not because I’m lying! My brother told me not to speak of the past. I had no choice but to obey!”

Mel had no idea what she was saying. Her words spilled out unfiltered, a desperate stream of denials.

‘Don’t admit it. Pretend you don’t know. Damian said so.’

“‘I erased your roots,’ Damian told me. ‘As long as you keep your mouth shut, no one can be certain of your true identity.’”

‘So, I… Damian…’

“Should I ask the young duke directly?”

‘Will Damian abandon me now? After things have come this far? After I’ve been exposed?’

Mel blinked vacantly, her mind blank. Her head, shoulders, knees—her entire body—felt weighed down as if shadows were tugging her into despair.

‘I don’t want to die yet.’

Forcing her sinking gaze upward, she clung to Gopher’s shoulder, her grip crumpling his clothing. Summoning all her strength, she managed to meet his eyes. Her reflection stared back at her in his green, amber-flecked irises.

“I’m…”

In that vivid, swamp-like gaze, the image of Bleria Heaven was trapped.

No, not Bleria. He saw a wretched fraud flailing helplessly, exposed for the liar she was.

‘I am not Bleria…’

What stared back at her was Mel Slopey.

“…not her.”

Her strength gave out, and Mel crumpled onto the sofa, unable to move a finger. The rhythmic ticking of a clock swelled, stretching unbearably, threatening to engulf her.

Her breaths grew loud, soft, and loud again, like a clock running out of power. Mel sat frozen, motionless, as if time had stopped entirely.

It was impossible to guess how long she sat there before the footsteps broke the silence. They grew distant, quieter with each step.

When the sound of the doorknob turning reached her ears, she finally asked:

“What will you do with me?”

The reply came coldly, with a hint of a smile.

“I’m still deciding.”

Thud. The closing door shattered any lingering hope.

It was over. Everything.

Mel couldn’t remember how she ended up back in her room. After Gopher left, she tried to act as though everything was expected, but she had no memory of what she said or did.

It wasn’t until bedtime that the reality hit her.

‘What should I do now?’

Her gaze shifted to the bedside table. The bouquet Gopher had brought lay half-ruined in a vase. Impulsively, she grabbed a single flower.

Before entering the manor, she hadn’t thought flowers were beautiful. Only when her heart grew warm did she come to appreciate their beauty.

Among them, she’d liked baby’s breath best. It was charming how such insignificant blooms could come together to create a gift.

But as of today, they were the most horrifying flowers she had ever seen.

“This…!”

Snap. The stem broke in her hand. She gripped the vase, ready to throw it. She wanted to hurl it to the floor—or better yet, out the window, into unfathomable depths where it could never be seen again.

If only doing so could solve everything.

But it wouldn’t.

Mel stared at the floor, then set the vase back down. She rang the bell with a weak hand, and the maid standing guard at the door entered promptly.

“You called for me, my lady?”

“This.”

“Oh, the bouquet Master Gopher brought earlier? I put it in a vase. Did you spill something? Half of them were ruined because they got wet—”

“Take it away.”

The maid blinked, her eyes round with surprise.

“I hate baby’s breath. It’s for the dead. It’s revolting.”

“Oh… It seems Master Gopher must have made a mistake.”

Lucy seemed confused even as she agreed with Mel’s words. Well, that made sense.

She had always been by Mel’s side, like a shadow. She must have known Mel liked baby’s breath even before Mel herself did.

“My apologies, My Lady. I’ll get rid of them right away.”

Lucy obediently left the bedroom. Mel let out a self-deprecating laugh and instinctively covered her mouth. Not that it mattered anymore.

Frowning defiantly, she pulled the blanket over her head, burying herself in the soft, cloud-like bedding.

‘I never should’ve said something as reckless as that.’

Nothing would have happened if she had remained as compliant as always. Gopher wouldn’t have looked into her past if the engagement had proceeded smoothly.

If she’d been lucky, she could have gone unnoticed. And if she’d been even more fortunate, she could have lived her entire life as Bleria Heaven.

But all those possibilities were gone now.

‘I ruined everything.’

There was no way Gopher would proceed with the engagement, knowing she was a fraud.

He would confront the Heavens and expose her true identity, and this greedy fool’s head would ultimately roll.

“Hic, sob…”

Mel buried her tear-streaked face in the blanket.

What should she do now? Should she confess to Damian that her identity had been discovered? Should she beg Gopher for mercy? Should she kick off the covers and flee right this moment?

Or perhaps… or maybe…

Her powerless thoughts spiraled endlessly within the confines of the room. At some point, exhaustion overtook her, and she fell asleep.

She only realized she had been asleep when she woke from a nightmare.

“My Lady! My Lady!”

Lucy’s voice rang sharply. The urgency jolted Mel awake, and she shot upright.

Gripping the blanket so tightly her knuckles turned white, she stared at Lucy as the maid burst into the room.

“Master Gopher sent you a gift! It seems he felt bad about giving you flowers you disliked yesterday!”

Too excited to notice Mel’s rigid expression, Lucy handed her a box.

At this point, it was impossible to believe Gopher had sent a gift out of kindness. She didn’t want to open it, but Lucy’s insistent urging left her no choice.

With trembling hands, she tugged at the ribbon binding the box. Inside was a black mask and an invitation.

“It looks like he wants to attend the masquerade ball with you. Oh, there’s also a card!”

Mel cautiously brought the card close to her eyes, ensuring its contents remained private as she opened it.

“Will you run?”

Ah.

She clenched her eyes shut.

***

With the wick of her heart burning, the days passed until the fateful evening finally arrived.

Mel entered the masquerade hall. Though she felt the weight of gazes lingering on her silver hair, she walked forward like a horse with blinders, focusing only on her destination.

Nothing else mattered. Only Gopher.

“The third balcony from the back.”

The curtains of the indicated balcony were drawn. Mel instinctively tried to steady her breathing but impulsively flung the curtains open.

A man wearing a white mask turned around. Yet, even with his face covered, there was little point in hiding.

His towering height, the graceful curve of his neck, and the broad chest that strained against his shirt buttons—all were featured as telling as a name tag.

Only the two remained in the confined space once the door was locked and the soundproof curtains were drawn.

Gopher removed his mask, and Mel followed suit. The cold air clung to her face like frost.

“I thought you’d run.”

“I knew I couldn’t.”

His lips curled into a smile, but it wasn’t the kind Mel was used to seeing.

“Most people run even when they know they can’t escape. You must be confident you won’t die. So, what bargaining chip did you bring?”

“…If you pretend you don’t know, I’ll proceed with the engagement.”

Mel spoke with difficulty, the conclusion she’d reached through agonizing deliberation. Her voice lacked strength.

She knew the engagement was unlikely to go through in these circumstances, but this was the only offer she could think of.

“I’ll do whatever you ask. You wouldn’t want your name tarnished by scandal, either. Reputation is everything for nobles, and—”

“You speak as if you know a lot about nobles.”

Mel’s cheeks turned cold. A gust of wind made her stagger, forcing her to brace herself against the door. Out of the corner of her eye, her silver hair caught the light.

Her hair looked especially coarse today. She tried to smooth it with trembling hands, but Gopher’s following words cut through her.

“Mel Slopey of Baron Kether’s estate in Greenboard.”