COARV Chapter 23

I held my glass and glared at him, delivering a clear warning.

Come near me and you die.

Even now, days after having been my fiancé, Kallis seemed to understand my look precisely. Not wanting to hold his gaze a moment longer, I turned away at once and moved off. Until now, it had always been me watching Kallis's moods—for that position to overturn so completely was, I had to admit, ironic.

I let my eyes drift toward the enormous clock mounted on the wall. Staying here any longer would only mean more of a staring contest with Kallis—and honestly, I wanted to be alone. Not dancing with Kallis was, in its own way, an unfamiliar experience.

Just days ago, I'd thought I would become the Marchioness of Haneton...

They say you never know how life will turn out. Isn't that the truth.

If I had married Kallis and lived out my days peacefully at his side, I would surely have gone on to spend a happy life with him. There are futures, after all, one can genuinely see coming.

But now there's only betrayal. He'd been sincere with me, as if that even meant anything—and sincere with the female lead too, the whole time. If I hadn't been the one to heal his arm first, wouldn't we simply have gone on hating each other, as the original story had scripted?

Maybe that would've been better.

Never thought we'd end up like this.

No matter how hard I thrashed against it, trying to steer clear of the original story—was it all for nothing? I had believed Kallis loved me. I did—and yet he could not shake off Lina, exactly as the original novel had fated him to. If that was true, then perhaps everything else would flow along the original's course too—the thought spread slowly through my mind, like ink through water.

God, I really didn't want to think that.

To live. To survive. The fear I'd worked so hard to look away from, to keep hidden, was leaving its mark now, like mud clinging to skin. I gave my head a light shake, trying to shake off the feeling sticking to me.

Unbidden, I remembered Kallis gripping me, crying out desperately—that he'd divorce Lina, if only I would marry him again.

I'd been too furious at the time to properly turn it over in my mind, but recalling it now, a different question filled my head first.

What's even the point of marrying again, I should've said. If Lina wants something bad enough, you'll just go running back to her, won't you, I should've said. Swear it at the temple—if it happens one more time, you hand over the whole Haneton marquisate and title to me, can you swear that? That's what I should have screamed at him.

God. I should've snapped exactly that at him, right then.

Why is it that the words never come while you're actually fighting, only after, when it's too late? Should I go slap Kallis's cheek right now, and shout all of that at him? Berke Castle would turn upside down, and within a few days, the gossip would spread through the entire empire's high society, wouldn't it?

Entertaining such a ridiculous fantasy drew out a rueful laugh, and the low mood I'd been sinking into eased a little. Having emptied my champagne flute, I called over a passing servant.

"Here."

"Shall I bring you another glass of champagne?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you for your trouble."

I handed the servant my empty glass and turned my steps toward the stairs. Standing against the wall forever wasn't a good choice either—I planned to step away for a moment.

Of course, leaving the great ballroom entirely would have been a foolish choice. Anyone would see it, plainly, as fleeing under the weight of gossip.

So the best refuge I'd settled on was one that carried its own considerable fame within Berke Castle—the Grand Duchess's Terrace.

Just as the imperial palace contained retiring rooms reserved solely for the imperial family’s use during court functions, this terrace, too, was said to be usable, generation after generation, only by the Grand Duchess of Berke and those she invited. Because it required climbing more stairs than any other terrace, it carried strong symbolic weight, and rumor had it that the moonlight fell there with unmatched beauty.

Since Lesche had remained unmarried, the Grand Duchess's Terrace, too, had lacked a mistress.

And so it had remained closed all this while—but this time, Linon had insisted, by custom, that it be opened. When I objected that it felt like too much of a burden, Linon persuaded me by pointing out that after being run ragged all day for Lesche's sake, he'd feel less wronged if he could at least see that much.

Honestly, I fell for it completely. He was right. I'd worn myself out decorating this whole place and preparing the ball, hadn't I? I'd even barely managed to fit the arriving High Priest's schedule in around it.

And besides, in my heart of hearts, I'd wanted to step, just once, into that unknown space that even the imperial family of the Gleick Empire couldn't simply request entry to. When would I ever get another chance?

As I approached, a well-dressed servant deftly drew back the thick green velvet curtain for me. Embroidered large in blue thread across the vest he wore was the Berke crest—meaning he'd been granted temporary permission to enter the terrace for the purpose of attending to me.

The servant asked,

"Would you care to wear a cloak on your way out? It's extremely cold outside."

Before stepping onto the terrace, I looked down over the staircase. A few nobles glanced up at me, then quickly averted their eyes.

Even amid the crowd of nobles surrounding him, Lesche—tall as he was—remained clearly visible. The chandelier's light caught in his silver hair and glittered there. Lesche Berke really was the kind of man who drew everyone's attention simply by standing still.

For all that grandeur, though, if you looked closely, his expression was thoroughly bored.

He really doesn't bother managing his face at all.

Such is the life of the powerful, I supposed, smiling faintly to myself at the thought—only to have my eyes meet Lesche's, of all timing. I wiped the smile away at once and dipped my head slightly. I could feel the surrounding nobles' attention, quick to read Lesche's gaze, swing toward me.

I turned and, in a small voice, whispered a single request to the servant still holding back the curtain. His eyes seemed to widen slightly, before he nodded at once.

"I'll leave it to you, then?"

"Without fail, Lady Stern."

I put on the light cloak the servant brought and stepped out onto the unknown terrace.

"…."

The terrace was beautiful to the point of leaving one involuntarily overwhelmed. Moonlight poured down as if gathered and reflected by mirrors, fantastical in its abundance. The white marble railing looked like a work of art in its own right. Set slightly off-center from the terrace's exact middle stood a single elegant chair, and a wool carpet lay spread across the floor.

I understood now why Linon had been so confident. The rumors hadn't been exaggerated in the least.

I walked slowly around the terrace, taking it in. The Grand Duchess's Terrace stood a good half-story higher even than the highest terrace attached to the great ballroom. Glancing down, I could already spot a fair number of couples who had come out to enjoy their private trysts.

Really is the best seat in the house. I could watch every rumor there is, firsthand.

I found myself thinking that this terrace probably hadn't served purely as a place of rest—that it must have been used, plenty, for social and political purposes as well.

I leaned against the sturdy railing and gazed up at the sky. The full moon hung in a sky studded with countless stars, and the moon itself looked unusually large tonight. It was a breathtaking sight, though—just as the servant had warned—bitterly cold, enough that I had to draw myself in a little. My head, at least, felt pleasantly clear for it.

How long had I stood there like that?

Ding.

Along with the small bell sound at my ear came the sound of a door opening. I opened my closed eyes. Turning back, I found, standing there, someone I had half-expected.

"How did you get in here this time?"

"…Seria."

"Didn't the servant tell you plainly that no one could enter without my permission?"

"I know, I know that—but I pleaded, in the Saint's name."

"What good is pleading? I didn't give permission. Berke Castle's traditions are strict enough that even a duke who forces his way in here without permission has to live as the Grand Duchess of Berke's servant for a full week. Did you know that?"

"What? That's—"

Lina, staring at me with shocked eyes, forced the words out.

"But, Seria—I told Kallis I want a divorce."

Her two trembling hands clasped tight together, Lina had dropped this bombshell of a statement. I blinked and answered.

"There we are."

"…Seria?"

My reaction must have seemed too indifferent, because Lina looked bewildered. She had, evidently, expected me to gasp and ask her to repeat herself in shock.

"I said, there we are. Lina, is that all you wanted to say?"

As I moved to call for the servant, Lina hastily stopped me.

"Seria! The priests told me a Stern's divorce is every bit as complicated as a Stern's marriage, so it can't happen right away, but—I'm still going to divorce him! So… I'll give back what I took from you…!"

…Give back what she took from me? Had I heard that correctly? I lost my voice for a moment at her tone of noblesse oblige. In a cold voice, I said to Lina,

"Lina, you seem to be under some kind of misunderstanding. Whether you divorce Kallis or he dies before you, I have no lingering feelings for him whatsoever. So if that's the end of what you have to say, please leave."

"Seria!"

Lina's voice rose sharply enough that I frowned. A terrace at a ball generally exists for the purpose of private trysts. So those who come out here in secret generally, as a matter of common sense, keep their voices low and quiet—but just now, Lina's voice had been loud enough to break every convention of common sense.

Every noble out on the other terraces was surely looking up at us right now. My head began to ache.

"What is it you want, Lina."

"Want? There's nothing I want! I just, I just—"

Ding.

At that moment, another small bell sound rang out from the direction of the door. Lina cried out through her tears,

"It's just that I know I'm not even the heroine, that I'm more like some foreign object wedged between the two of you…!"

The heroine? A foreign object?

"I'm just—like some foreign object wedged between the two of you."

That was exactly what I had said to Lesche, just before our first dance. Lina had been close enough by that she might well have overheard it.

Seized by a strange feeling, I stared at Lina.

Yoo Lina. The heroine of this world. Having read the original, I knew Lina's character well.

Lina was, as befit a heroine, fundamentally good-natured—but she wasn't the type to inflict the sort of slow-burn frustration readers often complain about. In the original, she used her particular cleverness to fend off the villains who tormented her for the sake of the sub-male-leads.

I raised my hand and laid it quietly against my own cheek. Still faintly swollen.

This was the mark left by my desperate effort to protect the heroine. Even when the original Seria's fury refused to be controlled, I had scraped together every last scrap of patience I had and struck my own cheek instead of Lina's. I had never once, not a single time, tormented the heroine. Which meant—for now, at least—I wasn't the villainess.

So then why was Lina repeating, word for word, exactly what I had said—and of all timing, right now?

If anyone tries to come in, ring the bell.

Before coming out here, that was exactly what I'd whispered to the servant. If it was Lina or Kallis trying to enter, to ring it plainly so I'd know.

Anyone with eyes and ears would understand what it meant if someone tried to enter here and the servant rang the bell.

Who would dare climb up to the Grand Duchess's Terrace? Even I could think of no one but Lina or Kallis.

Which meant that anyone else keeping their attention fixed on this place would likely reach the same conclusion. Lina was already here on the terrace—and just now, the bell had rung again. It wasn't difficult to infer that Kallis must now be standing outside the door.

How much had Kallis heard, and from where?