Chapter 124

“My lady, is there something about that ring?”

From the way Dora—true to her Yaheon background—looked at Nerys absentmindedly stroking the ring since morning, she seemed to have realized something.

“Do you want to see?”

As Nerys’s finger brushed the ring, the lid clicked open.

Between the pearl and the band, a flat, tiny compartment had been created. Normally, something insignificant like a miniature portrait might have been kept there.

But at the very center was a deep groove, with traces of something long since dried up but which must once have been a viscous liquid.

Nerys had never possessed such an item herself. She’d always relied on other means to control people at her will. Still, she’d heard plenty about these things in high society.

Dora peered at the ring with a serious expression.

“Poison?”

“Most likely.”

It was probably something brought to poison the former Grand Duke. But as she and the Grand Duke fell in love, the plan changed, and the ring was left behind in this drawer.

It was understandable that the former Grand Duchess disliked anyone touching her drawers. An ex-shadow agent with such a ring—it would have been stranger if she’d let maids handle her belongings freely.

Yet there was significance in leaving a ring that would be troublesome if discovered.

“Was it evidence?”

Dora agreed with Nerys’s brief question.

“Most likely.”

“It’s a method he uses often, then.”

The former Grand Duchess must have known she’d die. She was aware of her father’s nature, the fate of a failed assassin, and she must have left evidence before her death.

So someone could use it if they ever found it.

“When the former Grand Duchess passed, no poison was detected, right?”

“Yes, my lady. Otherwise, His Grace the Grand Duke would have, no matter what…”

Yes, of course. They left the marquis alone because there was no evidence. Not the former Grand Duke, nor Cledwyn.

This dried residue was surely poison unique to the Tipion family. Its main trait: difficult to detect, at least for the local doctors and a handful of priests.

Nerys sighed and closed the ring’s locket. With a hard expression, she spoke.

“Bring me some paper. I’ll write an invitation.”

It was time to strip off Catherine Haricote’s mask.

Dora left the room excited. Alone, Nerys closed the ring’s lid again, gazing at the aged baroque pearl for a long while, and muttered inwardly:

‘You must have felt wronged, too.’

They used blood ties as an excuse to force her into danger, then discarded her as soon as she was no longer useful. Meanwhile, their own little “real” families were the most precious thing in the world.

Valentin’s face came to mind—alongside the disgusted look of Nellusion, who ultimately found the Crown Princess’s seat for his own “real” sister.

“Don’t worry.”

Words Nerys barely realized she was saying slipped from between her lips.

“I’ll get revenge for you. And your enemy just happens to be standing in my way.”

❖ ❖ ❖

Catherine was examining the invitation just brought by a maid.

Every detail had been attended to: fine paper of modest size, sophisticated handwriting, and literary sentences clearly penned by someone highly educated.

Catherine’s mood soured every time she encountered such elegance from Nerys. As a rival in love, she was an easy opponent—but that didn’t mean Catherine liked Nerys Truydd.

‘You still have the nerve to invite me for tea as if nothing’s wrong? Or do you really want to get along with me?’

If it was the latter, there were things that should come first. For example, retreating immediately from the West Palace with her mother, given that the former Grand Duchess had lived there.

‘The marquis does seem awfully obsessed.’

She had also heard the shocking secret about the former Grand Duchess’s illegitimate birth. The maid seduced by the marquis, who ran away and bore a child, raised in Holcastle, the small village near the marquisate with some support from her father. She’d made it her business to know such details for a convincing performance.

That was as much as the marquis had told Catherine. She’d married and supposedly died of illness.

Catherine had suspected there was more. It was odd for such a mad old man to hire an actress to seduce his grandson by imitating his dead daughter, and yet be so obsessed with the palace where his daughter lived.

‘Whatever the reason, he told me to get into the West Palace at all costs. That means the job is halfway done.’

Whatever the secrets, she didn’t care, as long as her future was secure.

“I’d better go.”

Catherine smiled. She’d even been summoned for tea at the famous West Palace. It was a good chance to scope out her future residence.

Catherine dressed with great care—not her usual neat, simple look, but a lavish, eye-catching ensemble like a declaration of war. Then, full of confidence, she set off for the West Palace.

“Welcome, Miss Catherine.”

Ellen stood at the door, the path lined with lush grass even in winter. Catherine greeted her sweetly.

“Hello, Ellen. I’m happy to see you here.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. We couldn’t be poor hosts to such an important guest.”

Hmm? Catherine paused. For some reason, she felt an unfamiliar wall from Ellen, despite the usual smile and kind words.

But before Catherine could dwell on it, Ellen smiled and gestured inside.

“It’s cold—please, come in, Miss Catherine.”

“Yes, thank you.”

The brief discomfort was swallowed up by her wariness about the person waiting inside. Catherine smiled and stepped in.

Nerys had summoned Catherine to a small parlor. Large windows overlooked the West Palace garden, the space elegantly furnished despite some age.

The West Palace wasn’t like the north’s gloomy buildings; it was beautiful, filled with light, and the parlor was decorated with the same taste. Glancing at the gilded fireplace, Catherine greeted Nerys energetically.

“Good morning, Advisor.”

Nerys, sitting by the tea table near the window, turned her head slowly.

The movement was graceful and unhurried. Wearing only a simple black dress without makeup, her presence seemed to smother all the room’s feeble lights.

The sunlight through the window traced Nerys’s silhouette like a halo. Catherine’s mood soured again, just as it had when she saw the invitation—Nerys Truydd was so much more fitting for the role of Grand Duchess than she could ever be.

“Miss Haricote. Thank you for coming.”

Despite her annoyance, Catherine’s smile faltered at those words.

Of course, “Thank you for coming” was a reasonable thing to say. Nerys lived in the West Palace, and Catherine was the guest. But the way Nerys looked at her—detached, as if looking down from above—was the problem.

As if she’d never even considered Catherine a rival.

Only then did Catherine realize why she’d been invited.

It was never about making peace.

Nerys Truydd had summoned Catherine simply to show her who the real mistress of the West Palace was. At least for now.

‘This—!’

Catherine had never lost to another woman. Not when it came to men.

Years of confidence had become arrogance, blinding her to danger. The prospect of moving from scorned actress to high nobility in a single leap clouded her judgment.

So she ignored her instincts and let her anger take over. Catherine beamed, with the same spirited face she’d practiced thousands of times under the marquis’s threats.

“Of course. I absolutely want to be friends with you, Advisor.”

Ellen pulled out Catherine’s chair, then left the two alone after setting out refreshments. Dora wasn’t there to begin with; only the two remained in the parlor.

“I don’t see Miss Dora, who’s always at your side, and Ellen is gone too. Everyone must be busy today, with His Grace away.”

“Just because His Grace is away doesn’t mean we can be careless. In fact, there are things to watch for even more closely when he isn’t here.”

“Is that so? You’re all so diligent. I’m glad to have met such wonderful people.”

Having no one else present was even better. She wanted to push until she saw this annoying woman’s composure break.

Catherine lowered her gaze, cheeks flushed, and spoke as if sincerely, like a modest young lady:

“Actually… His Grace said he’ll soon announce our relationship, and that even in spring I won’t be sent back to the marquisate. Once I become part of the family… I’ll need your help very much.”

She finished, then glanced sideways at Nerys’s face, which was—as expected—hardened.

‘Got it.’

Days of advising the Grand Duke about love had taught Catherine the shape of their relationship.

The Grand Duke didn’t seem very hopeful about her, and Nerys, despite her feelings, kept her distance out of pride.

So, if Catherine hinted that his feelings had changed, Nerys wouldn’t go ask him. The Grand Duke himself wasn’t particularly interested in Catherine yet, but that could change with time.

‘Now the proud Advisor will turn cold, and I’ll always be sweetly on his side. Having a comparison is better.’

She’d done this many times before. Catherine felt perfectly confident.

Nerys stroked her teacup’s handle with delicate fingers, sat silently for a while, then spoke.

“Miss Haricote, congratulations.”

“Oh my, thank you.”

Catherine was pleased by the easy acceptance. No more reason to worry about Nerys Truydd.

Nerys met her eyes.

“Soon, will Miss Haricote be the mistress of the West Palace?”

“N-not quite yet…”

“Even if you don’t want it, once you marry His Grace, it will happen. May I ask something? Since things are settled, sharing one secret with me can’t hurt.”

Catherine thought Nerys was absolutely right. Wasn’t that so? It wouldn’t change anything now.

Her eyes turned a little blank as she spoke, a bit dazed.

“What do you want to know?”

“What’s the first thing you’ll do if you become mistress of the West Palace?”

Easy. Catherine answered honestly, from the heart.

“I’ll clear out that wild garden and throw a party to show off that I’ve become Grand Duchess. So everyone can admire me…”

“Ah.”

Nerys smiled, her eyes—glittering with a thousand colors—curving with a look of pity.

“You know nothing. If you knew more, you’d realize there’s something else you should take care of first. You should be grateful you don’t know.”

Nerys Truydd’s words made no sense to Catherine. She stared, slightly unfocused, but suspicion was soon drowned by the absolute trust in the woman before her.

Yes, maybe I really don’t know something…

Nerys smiled as she spoke.

“The marquis is hiding something important from you. Even if you succeed, he’ll betray you—he’s the kind of man who’d betray his own child. If you want to survive, always say what’s on your mind. That’s your one strength, and everyone will love and help you for it.”

For someone like Catherine Haricote, whose whole life was built on lies, that was the ending she deserved.