RAMHM Chapter 154

The Castagna Family's End (2)

In an instant her father's head was gone. Doris knelt behind him. She denied it—the reality of it.

'Something's wrong.'

Following the intensity of the gaze she felt, she lifted her head and saw Adrienne standing close to the high seat.

It should have been Adrienne who died.

It should have been her—not Adrienne—standing alive, dressed so beautifully.

"It's a trick! Adrienne! That's not Adrienne! Come in front of my eyes! I'll confirm it with my own eyes! Come here right now! Right now!"

It was her last act of defiance.

Adrienne, raising an eyebrow as if surprised, stepped forward as Doris had demanded. People around her tried to stop her, but Adrienne paid them no mind.

At the same moment, the Duke's corpse was tossed carelessly aside in front of Doris's eyes, like some beast struck dead by a carriage.

Sparks seemed to ignite in Doris's green eyes. Between her clenched teeth, she tasted the metallic tang of blood.

The expressionless guards dragged her by force to the spot where her father had just been, fixing both her wrists in place.

The terror that her turn was next sank into her down to the bone.

"You pathetic Adrienne! You stupid Adrienne! It's your own fault for being so stupidly fooled! You country bumpkin from the east! Did I copy you? No! It was you who tried to take a place of nobility you had no right to! So it wasn't me who copied—it was you! Fuck! No one knows that! I could kill a worthless, stupid girl like you a hundred times over and it still wouldn't matter!!"

If only, before she died, she could see one twisted look on the face of the Adrienne who had tormented her heart so badly, she felt she could smile while her own head was severed.

"No—you're not Adrienne. The hell does that even make sense? You, the real Crown Princess that Bardenaldo chose? Don't make me laugh! As if that impotent bastard Bardenaldo ever truly loved anyone! It's nothing but a lie spouted by idiots who don't know anything—"

But contrary to Doris's expectations, Adrienne's face was unnervingly calm, and more than that, a subtle smile rested on an expression that looked endlessly gentle and mild.

Contempt and pity.

The pathetic look you give someone who doesn't understand.

Doris stopped her ranting and, without realizing it, let her mouth fall open, staring blankly at that smile.

It was Adrienne who had been deceived without understanding any of it—she couldn't fathom why she was being looked at that way instead.

So this time, she meant to hurl her curse openly.

"Look at you now, Doris Castagna."

But the fake Adrienne spoke those words first.

The breath Doris had drawn in to launch her curse stayed trapped, blocking her throat.

Doris's brow twitched faintly.

Adrienne smiled softly at the devil before her, who was waiting for her to break.

And then she bent at the waist herself, bringing her face even closer to Doris's.

The noble, almost sacred-looking face twisted, just for an instant, as if something demonic had taken hold of it—then unfolded back into a smile, as if nothing had happened.

And in front of Doris, who was still holding her breath, Adrienne whispered, her eyes gleaming with something wet and sharp.

"Dying will do you no good at all."

Doris's eyes, which had been wavering as if unable to grasp reality, stopped on a single point.

Frozen in place for a long moment as if time itself had halted, Doris's eyes suddenly went wide as a flash of memory seared across her mind.

Between her widened eyes, her deep-green irises rippled violently, like fire about to go out.

"You... how do you...."

Adrienne nodded as if to say the execution could proceed, and as she withdrew from Doris without a trace of attachment, Doris felt a chill rising from the tips of her toes all the way up to her ears.

That line, surely, surely—

Click.

A new iron blade was fitted and raised onto the same horrifying guillotine that had just severed her father's limp head.

"Kill her! Kill her!! Kill the devil!!"

In front of the crowd pouring out cheers and curses like madness, Doris, with the terrifying blade hanging over her head, still could not tear her eyes away from Adrienne, who kept watching her until the very end.

Her dry cheeks went white, as if confronting something more terrible than death itself.

Thwack.

The executioner severed the taut rope in a single stroke of his axe.

"How do you—how could you—"

Fshwaaaaak—

Scraping between the two long wooden posts, the sharpened iron blade plunged toward her white throat.

A chill tore through her entire body, and Doris desperately thrust out her hand.

"HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT!!!!!!"

With a scream like a thunderclap, the head that had been shaking in denial of reality rolled across the floor.

The white dress, dressed up like a bride's, soaked up the blood of the dead and her father and turned red.

Death was an instant, and the cheering went on as if it would last forever.

In the severed head rolling across the ground, the green eyes, light gone from them, still stared at Adrienne.

Adrienne did not look away from those eyes. As if locked in a staring contest, a single thin tear slid down from beneath the pale-green eyes raised in challenge.

Bliea, who had been standing behind her, came quietly forward and gripped Adrienne's hand—tight enough to hurt.

"Don't let it weigh on you."

Bliea whispered.

"We were always the ones to pity most."

At those words, every lingering unease drained away like wind.

Leaning her trembling hand against Bliea's, Adrienne smiled.

Now, it was truly over.

The Duke of Castagna, who had reigned as the west's king, had been executed.

His daughter Doris Castagna, after her death, was spoken of by traveling bards as the wicked woman of the age.

And starting with that execution, a storm of bloodshed swept through the capital for some time.

One by one, red lines were drawn through the names Vincento had written down.

These were the names of those who had killed Rhodness's beloved and who had wanted their own daughters to one day become Empress.

When every name on the list had finally been struck through and the west's leadership had changed hands, the Emperor finished his preparations to declare Rhodness the new Crown Prince of Ronteaux.

No noble in the capital with even a shred of perception could raise a single objection.

They had all watched, step by step, how Rhodness—who had built his experience on the battlefield and handled the empire's great and small affairs alike—destroyed houses that displeased him, without leaving so much as a family record behind.

The Duke of Pirreta in the east stepped down from his post without warning. In light of his being father to the two saints who had appeared in Ronteaux like a miracle, no great charge was laid on him.

It was uncharacteristically generous treatment for Rhodness.

Considering which houses had fallen by Rhodness's hand and the fact that Countess Bliea Acacia had become the new Young Duke of Pirreta, the meaning was unmistakable.

Cross Countess Bliea Acacia—his scandal partner—and there is only death.

It lodged itself firmly in the minds of the nobility.

Declaring Rhodness the new Crown Prince formally was only a matter of time, but there was no grand investiture ceremony to mark it.

Still, given the empire's dignity, Empress Grace's firm resolve that the matter could not simply be passed over meant that Atilchard Hall opened its doors before the scent of blood had even fully cleared.

Not a grand coronation in the heart of the capital—no. But the opinion held: there should at least be a splendid investiture party at the palace.

Naturally, a crowd as thick as clouds gathered at the palace, eager to catch the eye of the powerful and beautiful unmarried Crown Prince.

"You've got nerve, I'll give you that. Why come to a party where your ex is the guest of honor?"

"..."

"Seriously, looking at it now, you really are a heartless woman, aren't you. Not even crying. You loved the guy, didn't you—how can you be like this?"

"How much longer do I have to listen to this prince talking nonsense?"

At Epero's endlessly muttering voice as he escorted us, Bliea leaned close and whispered darkly in my ear.

Bliea looked thoroughly fed up.

Epero seemed unable to understand either why Rhodness had suddenly grown close to me, or why Bliea didn't seem bothered by it at all.

"Still, it's reassuring to have Prince Epero escorting us like this. Thank you."

"Hmph."

Epero, looking as if he might scold me in Bliea's place, would put on a fearsome expression—only to turn away, looking flustered, the moment I gave him a compliment.

"That prince... I think he liked you, Adrienne." Bliea pressed her mouth right against my ear to say it.

I felt a small twinge of discomfort.

"Bliea, you should give it a try yourself. Actually, Prince Epero once said your face was exactly his type."

"That one, still wet behind the ears—"

"Shh! New year's almost here. Once he's of age, who cares."

"Hmph."

Bliea stroked her chin, eyeing Epero, who was determinedly looking straight ahead. A satisfied smile lingered at the corner of her mouth.

"Still — the more I look at him, the better he looks. Saving that."

"?"

"New husband candidate. Saved."

"Stop talking like that—our brother would have a fit if he heard you."

"I get plenty of nagging from Gregory already."

Bliea said primly, then naturally hooked her arm through Epero's. Epero's ears went bright red in an instant, and his pace quickened.

I let out a long sigh and stepped into Atilchard Hall.

Even scanning around, Rhodness, the guest of honor, didn't seem to have arrived yet. The boisterous atmosphere alone made it clear he wasn't here.

I did my best to ignore the heavy weight of attention pouring onto us and moved toward a relatively secluded corner.

But the attention directed at twin sisters reunited through childhood tragedy—at Bliea, the protagonist of a life utterly reversed, and at me, dead and somehow living again—was considerable.

Even with Epero standing guard over us, it wasn't enough to fend off the noblewomen who knew us.

"Lady Bliea!"

Especially Nora Giusetta, approaching with eyes full of affection for Bliea, and Irene, following cautiously behind her, were hard to turn away.

"How many letters have I written! Oh my, greetings to Her Grace the Grand Duchess. Or should I say Young Duke of Pirreta now? I'm Baroness Nora Giusetta."

"For now it might be best to simply address her as Her Grace the Grand Duchess. The public hasn't quite caught up to anything else yet, and Her Grace's standing hasn't been fully settled either. Isn't that right? Oh, and I'm Irene Syscamythn—I worked alongside Lady Bliea, Your Grace."

Bliea stayed silent, apparently hoping the attention currently directed at me wouldn't shift over to her. Sensing the lukewarm reception, Nora's expression drooped.

"My husband came with me today as well. Everyone knows today's party is essentially the Crown Prince's investiture, don't they? A day like this—you just have to show up. Which reminds me—my husband has been dying to meet his benefactor, Lady Bliea. When might you be free to see him?"

"It's been so long since we last met too—please spend some time with us. And if it isn't too much trouble, would you be my chaperone for my debutante ball next year, Lady Bliea?"

Bliea's face went pale blue.

From her perspective, these were strange women practically climbing all over her, acting overly familiar.

"Excuse me, if it isn't too forward—might I take over as Lady Irene's chaperone instead?"

"Oh my goodness!"

At Bliea's lukewarm reaction, Irene's drooping expression brightened at once. Moved by the warmth in my voice, Irene pressed herself close to me almost immediately.

"If Her Grace would personally serve as my chaperone, I would be so, so happy! Maybe it's because the two of you look alike, but I feel strangely close to Her Grace already... would that be too forward of me toward Your Grace?"

Irene asked, her innocent, pleased face flushing. I gave a small laugh and took her arm warmly.

"Of course. A friend of Bliea's is a friend of mine. I hope we build a good relationship going forward."

Irene's young face flushed a deeper pink.

Irene quickly brightened again, saying she had to go boast to her friends that she'd found a new chaperone, and took her leave with a farewell.

"Get this woman away from me too."

Bliea began whispering to me as if practicing ventriloquism.

"She wants me to have dinner with her husband. I don't want to eat with strangers."

Baroness Giusetta, waving brightly to her husband who stood leaning on a crutch a short distance away, continued chattering without pause.

Bliea stared at her with a thoroughly fed-up expression.

I leaned in a little closer to Bliea and spoke.

"Use this as a chance to widen your circle. Baroness Giusetta has a firm grip on the capital's social scene—she'll be useful to you later."

"I don't even know who this woman is."

Bliea said through gritted teeth.

"Then get to know her."

At my breezy answer, Bliea was just about to mutter a curse when the great bell of Atilchard Hall rang—exactly three times.

"Presenting His Imperial Majesty the Emperor, Her Imperial Majesty the Empress, and His Imperial Highness Second Prince Rhodness!"

The boisterous air of Atilchard Hall shifted.

The Emperor, his face full of worry, the Empress Grace, her complexion noticeably improved, and Rhodness—commanding enough beauty to steal everyone's breath—stepped into the upper landing of the hall.

Rhodness didn't even glance around. He found me at once.

The instant our eyes met—his red gaze brilliant even from a distance—I felt as if an invisible hand had seized my whole body and would not let go.