“Again.”

The command fell the moment she lifted the teacup.

Daphne silently repeated the same motion.

“Do it again.”

Greta didn’t even blink as she repeated the exact same words. Daphne had raised that teacup dozens of times already, doing the same gesture over and over, just to satisfy her.

“That will be all for tea etiquette. You may rest for ten minutes.”

Despite her mechanical tone, Greta left the tearoom, bowing with proper courtesy.

The moment the room fell silent, Daphne let out a small, weary sigh.

Several days had passed since her arrival.

Becoming an Allen Howard required training almost as rigorous as military discipline.

Every tiny habit had to be perfect, without exception.

She was fighting for survival with everything she had, but that didn’t make the process any easier.

And yet, she was performing remarkably well, as if she had been preparing for this moment her whole life.

At this rate, she might actually be able to impersonate Allen convincingly in time for the Prime Minister’s visit.

Click—

The door opened.

Had ten minutes already passed?

Daphne felt her shoulders sag slightly.

“You must always maintain proper posture, my lady.”

Of course — Greta spotted it immediately and issued her usual warning.

She entered, carrying several thick books stacked in her arms.

After the etiquette lessons came the theory.

Daphne was required to study every piece of information that Allen Howard would be expected to know, as well as the genealogies and political standings of Phozmeri’s cabinet.

Straightening her posture, Daphne opened the album that Greta had placed on the table.

The large book displayed four prominent figures per page, each accompanied by a photograph, name, and short description.

As she flipped through the pages, her hand suddenly stopped moving.

She recognized someone.

‘That man…’

It was a photograph of the soldier wearing a stiff expression beneath a pressed military cap. The picture was in black and white, and his hair was hidden inside the cap, but she knew that face.

She knew it instantly.

[Oswald Lawrence]

The name written beneath the photograph. Daphne stared blankly at the letters for a long moment before hurriedly reading through the description.

[Phozmeri’s war hero: Oswald Lawrence. When the formerly colonized nation of Astasha began its sudden counterattack, he played a key role in securing a peaceful armistice thanks to his exceptional tactics and outstanding judgement. He is currently a major in the Phozmeri Imperial Army.]

The commander had escorted her from the front lines through the forest to this place.

She had only just learned his name: Oswald Lawrence.

Daphne stared at the photograph for a moment longer before turning the page.

He was no longer relevant to her.

She could not afford to sink into strange, inexplicable emotions.

Survival mattered far more.

“Ah, and there is one more thing I must give you.”

Pulling her out of her thoughts, Greta placed something next to Daphne’s hand.

A small glass bottle.

Inside, tiny white pills filled half the container.

“These are the pills you used to take, my lady.”

“……”

“One tablet whenever you could not sleep. They are sedatives.”

Greta always delivered information like this as though Daphne were actually Allen Howard.

Daphne accepted the bottle and nodded, giving the practiced smile that Allen was known for.

Everything around her felt like thin ice beneath her feet.

＊ ＊ ＊

Time slipped by quickly.

By the time Daphne had mastered the mannerisms of Allen Howard — her gestures, tone of voice, and even the subtle way she held her breath — the Prime Minister arrived at the estate.

The mansion, which was built like a fortress on the outskirts of the capital, was filled with the sound of approaching vehicles for the first time in a long while.

Daphne’s nerves tightened painfully.

What if he realized that she wasn’t his real daughter?

If he found out, today would be the last day of her life.

The thought made sweat gather beneath her palms. Her mouth felt unbearably dry.

She stared at the mirror on the dining room wall.

The woman reflected there looked every inch the noble lady.

Her pale face felt unfamiliar.

Yet it was also strangely familiar, as though she had worn that expression long ago.

She curled her trembling hands into fists.

This is where it truly begins.

She must not be discovered.

If she was, there would only be death.

As she waited for the Prime Minister in the quiet dining hall, Daphne repeated this truth to herself over and over again.

“Greta, it has been a while.”

“Your Excellency, have you been well?”

Soon, she heard the voices of a middle-aged man and the nanny greeting each other outside. Sitting alone, Daphne gripped her skirt so tightly the fabric wrinkled.

“Is Allen waiting?”

“She is waiting for you in the dining hall, Your Excellency.”

After a brief exchange of voices, Prime Minister Howard entered.

A middle-aged man with brown hair streaked with gray—similar in shade to Daphne’s—stood tall and broad-shouldered.

His uniform resembled the one Oswald wore.

“Oh, Allen. It has been too long.”

“Father.”

Daphne forced a composed smile as she greeted him.

Howard seemed to notice nothing amiss.

He drew her into a light embrace.

Dinner began soon afterwards.

Although there was no particularly memorable conversation, Daphne couldn’t ignore the stark difference between what Oswald had told her and what she was observing in the Prime Minister now.

She had expected someone unstable, someone who loved his daughter with frantic, suffocating devotion.

Instead, however, he appeared far more controlled and far colder than she had imagined.

“Nothing out of the ordinary happened while I was away?”

“No, Father.”

Just as the soldier had said, Howard treated her as Allen Howard, without a shred of doubt. It was unsettling — almost disturbingly so.

The meal continued uneventfully.

“I have something to tell you.”

Howard toyed with his water glass for a moment before continuing.

“I’ve started to feel I no longer know when I might die. Times are changing, and you too have grown older.”

Daphne sensed that something ominous was forming on Howard’s tongue.

When she looked up at him, he smiled, revealing his teeth.

The deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes made his expression grotesque.

“After nearly losing the war, I can imagine how crushed the people’s pride must be. A public event is needed to show them that misfortune is behind us.”

“……”

“Allen. I believe it’s finally time for you to marry.”

The words hit Daphne like a physical blow.

Marriage — what? To whom?

She was a prisoner from an enemy nation.

How could she possibly be expected to marry someone from Phozmeri?

No matter how hard she tried to piece together her fragmented memories, she could not recall anything like this happening.

Playing the role of Allen Howard was hard enough.

But marriage?

Her already dry lips pressed tightly together.

The heavy, cloying scent of cosmetics clung to her skin, stirring nausea in the pit of her stomach.

Still, she forced herself to smile.

The harder she tried, though, the more rigid and unnatural her expression became.

Whether or not Howard noticed his daughter’s stiffening face, he regarded her with an unreadable expression before continuing.

“I have someone in mind. Oswald Lawrence.”

At the mention of that name, Daphne looked up sharply.

Oswald.

If the Prime Minister was saying that name, he could only be referring to one man, the soldier she had seen in the album.

The man who had brought her here from the battlefield.

“But do as you please. It’s fine even if you choose not to marry, Allen.”

Howard’s voice was deep and gentle.

But the moment she heard his words, she felt a chill run through her, telling her instinctively that if she refused him, it would mean certain death.

“But do as you please. It’s fine even if you choose not to marry, Allen.”

“…Please—please spare me!”

Bang!

A flash—an echo—
A gunshot she couldn’t place, unsure whether it had already pierced her skull or was moments away from doing so.

Cold shivers rippled down her neck.

‘If I refuse, I’ll die.’

She knew it.

She knew it with absolute certainty.

Struggling to hide the tremor in her hands, she quietly set her water glass down. The soft click of glass against wood sounded far too loud in her ears.

Daphne forced her lips to curve into a smile. Then she lifted her gaze to meet the eyes of Allen Howard’s father—and gave a slow, deliberate nod.

“I… I’m fine with it.”

Howard looked satisfied.

“Well decided.”

The only sound in the room was the faint clatter of cutlery.

Daphne kept her head lowered, staring at the food in front of her.

It was the finest cuts of meat and the freshest fruit and vegetables — the sort of luxurious dishes she could never have imagined having in her former life — yet they all tasted awful in her mouth.

‘Oswald. That soldier would certainly refuse this arrangement.’

And when he did…

What then?

She no longer had any idea where her life was heading.

“Let us arrange a dinner with Major Oswald Lawrence soon.”

Howard’s voice echoed through the room like a warning.