RAMHM Chapter 25

I Don't Even Understand Myself

The palace of Second Prince Rhodness.

From morning, the first floor where his office was located bustled with aides coming and going. Rhodness sat motionless despite the constant movement around him, staring at the documents piled before his eyes.

On his desk—frozen like a statue since dawn—lay scrapbooks of newspapers and gossip magazines, Ellaconian textbooks, and files of background investigation on a single person, all spread in disarray. The scrapbook edges were nearly worn through from how frequently he'd read them.

Haa—

When Vincento placed the last document down, Rhodness—sitting crookedly with fingers pressed to his temple—let out a deeper sigh. Even with all three windows open, the smell of alcohol wouldn't dissipate. Vincento started to nag, then exhaled a heavy sigh himself. Rhodness picked up the newly delivered paper with languid slowness and read.

「Name: Bliea Acacia. Nationality: Unknown. Age: 22 (estimated). Marital Status: Married. Guardian: Count Franklin Acacia (72 years old)」

"The documents are excessively clean. This information broker also responded with exactly the same content as what you received before."

"......"

"Neil was saying something strange."

Rhodness's eyes slid slowly up from the documents. Vincento carefully continued.

"At the victory ceremony, that lady apparently said she was the Grand Duke of Trovika's mistress."

"...Cut that bastard loose. His mouth is too loose."

"Your Highness, if that's true, wouldn't it be better not to get involved?"

"Do I look like I'm trying to get involved?"

Vincento didn't answer, watching his lord who continued scanning the documents. These days, Rhodness was indifferent to everything except smoking cigars, drinking alcohol, and poring over information about the Grand Duchess of Trovika and Bliea Acacia.

"Honestly, I don't understand, Your Highness."

"......"

"The Grand Duke of Trovika isn't close to us, but he's the Crown Prince's closest confidant and not particularly someone worth antagonizing. Rather, with Your Highness supporting the Crown Prince, he could be considered an ally. Whether he had a mistress before his wife died or took one after out of loneliness—we can't know, but isn't that the Grand Duke's private affair? Even if he committed infidelity, Countess Acacia is a married woman, so it's not something that would be greatly condemned in aristocratic society. You know this, don't you?"

"Don't understand..."

Rhodness repeated Vincento's remonstration as he leaned back fully in his chair. His well-defined jaw and arrogant nose pointed toward the ceiling. The sculpted cherubs in the expensive lighting glimmered faintly. Watching the ceiling while talking to himself, Rhodness looked almost forlorn.

"......I don't even understand myself."

"......?"

The one who understood himself least of all was Rhodness. From Adrienne's death to the appearance of the identical Bliea. And the fact that this Bliea was Novian Trovika's mistress—all of it was nightmarish, as if dreaming. No matter how much alcohol he drank, how much blood he saw, how exhausted he became before collapsing into sleep, each morning began a new nightmare.

'Adrienne Pirreta doesn't exist in this world.'

That single fact filled him with despair, as if only his shell remained in this world. Would it be alright if he confirmed the body?

After witnessing Novian Trovika's tryst, the impulse to tear him apart arose, yet simultaneously he was gripped by fear—if he did so, he might never be able to confirm even Adrienne's body. He didn't know what purpose that man—who'd risen to his current position through all manner of schemes—had in hiding the body, and perhaps there was no body at the estate at all.

He needed someone to help confirm the body. Tying Bliea Acacia into a kind of contract through absurd reasoning, doing things that wouldn't benefit his own life—these actions he didn't understand himself, but Rhodness rationalized it this way. That he too needed help.

But every time he saw Bliea Acacia, especially those eyes—completely identical to Adrienne's—his heart felt like it was rolling on the ground.

"......Maybe I really am insane."

You all keep calling me a mad dog—perhaps the Lord truly cursed me with that affliction.

"Why am I like this?"

Yet he kept wanting to help. Seeing her cry made rage surge, and every time she did something similar to Adrienne, memories of their good times threatened to drive him mad. Simply because she resembled Adrienne so much? Was his taste truly as consistent and stubborn as Novian Trovika's?

"Perhaps I don't want to believe too much that she's dead, so that woman..."

Maybe like a madman I'm waiting for her to tell me she's actually Adrienne.

Adrienne—she abandoned me, but still, I...

I can't abandon her. Can't be abandoned.

When his monologue ended, Rhodness laughed bitterly.

"It's not just that son-of-a-bitch Novian Trovika."

"Pardon......?"

"It's not certain whether the Grand Duchess knew of this woman's existence before she died."

If she knew, this woman too was a target for punishment. Rhodness straightened from his crooked position watching the ceiling and crumpled the document.

"......Vincento."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"After the Grand Duchess's funeral period ends, if I continue like this even after confirming the body......"

Rhodness—eyes returning to their usual cold state—looked up at Vincento standing before him and continued.

"Then you cut off my head."

"Your Highness!"

At the command that fell as if he had no attachment to life, Vincento stepped forward. But Rhodness's face was far too serious. While Vincento stood lost for words, a knock suddenly sounded at the office door.

"Your Highness."

Neil poked his head in, seeking Rhodness.

"It's time for your lesson with Countess Acacia."

Today's lesson proceeded not at the usual private restaurant but at Madame Leblais's atelier. When I mentioned accompanying the rumored Second Prince whom one couldn't easily meet, Madame Leblais rented out the entire shop, and—as if that weren't enough—for security, surrounded the area where Rhodness sat with partitions on three sides.

I diligently completed Rhodness's assignment today and even composed my own essay to submit to him. Lessons with Rhodness were beneficial, but honestly suffocating since we barely spoke beyond the lessons themselves. So this time, to prevent awkward air from circulating while he graded, and to bluff my influence a bit to Madame Leblais, I'd deliberately brought Rhodness to this atelier.

"Bravo! Bravo!!"

"Magnificent, my lady!"

"Good heavens. I thought Her Imperial Majesty Empress Letina—called the Empire's greatest beauty—had returned to life!"

A somewhat boisterous atmosphere. Rhodness briefly frowned at the sudden cheers, then watched Bliea Acacia spin around on the platform.

"Is it truly that remarkable?"

"Oh my, absolutely, my lady!"

The noblewoman made a subtly awkward expression, then took a fan a maid offered and turned to look in the mirror as if nothing had happened.

"Look, even His Highness the Prince jumped to his feet in surprise!"

"Ah."

Only then did Rhodness realize he'd stood up abruptly. The moment Bliea put on the dress and held the fan, he felt his blood run backward.

"We'll do a fitting today and one more fitting, my lady."

"Is this insufficient?"

"A dress's completion lies in meticulous fittings."

Madame Leblais smiled while adjusting the dress's draping with unprecedented passion. And Rhodness couldn't take his eyes off the Countess watching herself in the mirror. That straight posture. The habit of holding a fan and resting her chin on it. Contrary to rumors that Countess Acacia couldn't shed her commoner bearing, Bliea possessed more aristocratic dignity than anyone here. Despite her verbal habit—as if memorizing vocabulary—of saying 'I like new things,' even at the capital's finest atelier she wasn't the type to indulge in extravagance.

"Since we're here, would it be alright to do all the fittings at once, Your Highness?"

"......"

Rhodness wordlessly nodded at Bliea's question and slightly lifted the paper he'd been grading. Bliea made a briefly apologetic expression before going back behind the curtain.

Meanwhile, Madame Leblais—the shop's owner—couldn't hide her flushed expression and slipped over to personally replace the Prince Rhodness's untouched tea with something warm.

Recalling how the Prince—as if experiencing such a shop for the first time—had slowly looked around upon entering, then changed expression each time Countess Acacia emerged in new clothes, her artistic spirit surged anew.

'I want to dress him in the most dazzling uniform and display him like a mannequin.'

Contrary to his 'Demon of the Battlefield' reputation, his appearance was too beautiful for her artistic soul not to be stirred. Look at that Prince—though the lighting wasn't particularly bright, he alone sparkled as if dusted with powdered gold. Beneath casually swept-back platinum hair, those ruby-sharp red eyes were truly jewels themselves. From his arrogant nose to his rapturous lip line—Madame Leblais sketched the designs flooding her mind while thinking:

'I must become closer with Countess Acacia.'

The Countess's ability to carry off clothes was supreme. True to her words that she knew best what suited her, and matching that face so shockingly similar to the deceased Grand Duchess, she carried off classical designs that not just anyone could wear. To avoid an overly stifling feeling, exposing the neck or shoulders and decorating the surroundings with chiffon and jewels completed the 'elegant and splendid' style she'd described.

'This will definitely be a hit, a hit!'

The Countess was not only a muse providing inspiration but had considerable connections with influential figures. Not only the request from Grand Duke Novian Trovika—praised as the century's great romantic—but now even Second Prince Rhodness, whom one rarely glimpsed, appeared with her.

Nobles kept mistresses even when paired, and enjoyed casual dates lightly. Even if not the Grand Duke, wasn't Prince Rhodness notorious for his philandering? He could succumb to an attractive noblewoman's seduction and meet briefly.

'Whether villain or hero, they're all weak to beauties.'

Unfortunately, Madame Leblais mistook Countess Acacia for Rhodness's casual dating partner. Rhodness deliberately ignored the strange sense of incongruity he'd felt since earlier as he finished grading Bliea's Ellaconian assignment.

He'd collected every rumor about Bliea Acacia, yet how could none of them be accurate? The assessment of vulgarity had already been the first information deleted from his mind, and as lessons progressed, the evaluation of being ignorant and coarse became increasingly incomprehensible.

Rather, looking at this first essay assignment, there were many signs of hesitation and revision. These were traces of struggling with how to convert perfectly fine sentences she'd already written into a foreign language. What stood out was her attempt at sentences that an uneducated commoner would never have even thought to construct.

"!"

Thinking this, Rhodness suddenly felt his breath catch, as if sinking underwater—his ears became muffled.

"Wow, my lady, if you have occasion to visit the Imperial Palace, you absolutely must choose this one!"

"Good heavens, truly beautiful."

Bliea Acacia emerged from behind the curtain again. In the midst of fervent cheers, the noblewoman's gaze—her face flushed briefly—slid toward Rhodness.

"Is something wrong, Your Highness?"

"No. It suits you well."

To the noblewoman who'd been watching him frozen like a statue with concern, Rhodness barely answered as he stood. The Countess blinked her large eyes blankly for a moment, then felt the red gaze staring intently at her and flushed slightly.

"...You look exactly like the Grand Duchess of Trovika."

At the words comparing her to the Grand Duchess, the Countess's maids stiffened their faces while the atelier staff smiled slightly. The Countess's pale green eyes wavered briefly before she slipped back behind the curtain.

Rhodness looked down again at what he held in his hands. They trembled as if viewing the most terrifying thing in the world. A few simple sentences—a short diary entry. But what he focused on wasn't the content describing Bliea Acacia's trivial daily life.

'Adrienne's handwriting.'

It was the neat, elegant handwriting from the notes and letters he and Adrienne had exchanged for years. Undeniable—naturally he would recognize it. The handwriting that had filled letters he'd read and reread with longing over the years, that he'd even held while sleeping. Unmistakable—Adrienne Swan Pirreta's handwriting.

Rhodness's legs gave out as he collapsed into the chair and buried his face in his large hands.

'Am I......truly insane?'