Chapter 207

Chapter 207

Perhaps all of this was not a mere coincidence, Deatrice thought.

She considered the possibility that her eavesdropping on the conversation between the emperor and Lucius was part of the emperor’s plan. It might be fate that she learned of the duke’s denial beforehand.

“The Empress would like to meet you. She wishes to personally assist you in the upcoming marriage of Marquis Shante’s daughter,” the words were relayed to her while she was with Frederick.

The chamberlain seemed to report this matter quite calmly, even though she knew that many in the palace held her in disdain.

Deatrice quickly adjusted her disheveled dress and teary face, preparing to meet the Empress. Observing her calm preparation, Frederick stifled a laugh.

“You’re going?”

“Yes, I’m going. I shouldn’t be with you here in the first place.”

Deatrice’s rapid transformation from a distraught face to a composed one left Frederick amazed. He seemed to be thinking, “This is the woman I knew all along.” After their reunion, Deatrice had acted so differently from what he remembered, making this encounter feel refreshingly new.

Deatrice paid no heed to the way Frederick looked at her. Instead, she briefly but politely bid him farewell and then followed the chamberlain.

From behind, Frederick couldn’t help but laugh at Deatrice’s absurdity. She entered a room she had never seen before. It seemed to be a place where various portraits and antiques were kept.

Why did the Empress summon her to such a place?

Deatrice wanted to ask the chamberlain if he was sure he had properly guided her, but the chamberlain abruptly left the room without providing any explanations.

This unexpected departure by the chamberlain was rather bizarre, but Deatrice was too exhausted to dwell on it. She slumped into a chair.

The weight of the truth she had learned today was heavier than any oppression that had burdened her throughout her life. Even after conveying this information to Lucius, would he still choose her?

Tonight is the night when the emperor will tell Lucius to give her up. Deatrice believed she had to find Lucius and inform him of all these facts before he did anything foolish.

“Lucius.”

However, the name Frederick, with all the years that have passed, seemed too long. His presence, or rather his name, had always been with her, even when he wasn’t by her side.

During her first love, during their separation, when she accepted Lucius’ proposal after their reunion, and even when Lucius was behaving badly towards er – his name was her constant companion.

For that reason, she couldn’t give him up. But that didn’t mean she could ask him to accept her, to forgive her. After all the evil deeds she had done as the Duke’s daughter, how could he ever forgive her? Even if he did forgive, the scars would surely remain.

It was then that the faint sound of someone talking reached her through the thin wall.

Deatrice unknowingly followed the familiar voice.

Pushing aside the makeshift wall of paintings, she found herself in a short corridor connecting to the adjacent room. As she opened the door at the end of the corridor, a slightly larger room than before revealed itself. The voice became clearer and louder, and soon Deatrice noticed a crack in the door of the adjoining room. Through that gap, she glimpsed the backs of the emperor and Lucius. The moment she confirmed their presence, Deatrice realized that she had fallen into a trap.

She needed to go back.

But any warnings about that were scattered to the wind by the emperor’s voice.

“Do you truly not remember?”

It appeared as though the emperor was bending down in front of Lucius, who was on his knees.

“It was the night we heard about the Duke’s rebellion. I asked you how it felt to see the Duke thrive after he destroyed you, and you, you were silent for a long time. Then you said, ‘It feels like my insides are turning. It feels like a hunting dog is tearing into my heart.'”

Every word of that statement pierced Deatrice’s heart. Though it had been more than a year since that day, the sense of despair and anger he had felt back then seemed as fresh as ever.

Lucius had never spoken so frankly in front of her. Even in the most turbulent early days of their marriage, Lucius always seemed tolerant towards the duke, suppressing his anger in a semi-indifferent manner.

“I’m not so low to seek seek revenge against you.”

He always smiled that way and spoke as if he had a sharp blade beneath his indifferent exterior. At the time, Lucius’ words hurt her. She thought it would be better to tell her honestly how much he had suffered, and she would ask for his forgiveness.

But when she actually heard his honest feelings, she realized that it was a mistake. She couldn’t believe he was suffering so much. It was much harder for him to hear each word of pain.

Deatrice felt her breathing become labored again. If she continues to listen to his story any longer, she will only become her own poison.

She turned her body and tried to get away. However, there was no way that her emperor, who had dragged her all this way, would show her tolerance by waiting for her to escape.

As if he had been waiting, the emperor plunged his final dagger.

“You said you wanted to seek revenge against Deatrice.” The emperor reminded him. He leaned in and said, “And I granted that revenge, Elliot. That is the true reward I bestowed upon you, don’t you see?”

Her legs lost strength. Deatrice tried to steady her stumbling body, but ended up dropping the round vase on the nearby nightstand.

Thanks to the soft carpet, the vase rolled without breaking but it was already too late to run away. As they noticed her presence, urgent footsteps were heard, and the door was soon opened wide.

Lucius’ face contorted when he saw her.

“Deatrice.”

He called her name softly, and took a step forward.

“Dee. “Let me explain.”

He said urgently like picking up spilled water–it was useless. But Lucius was mistaken, Deatric thought, it was not the emperor’s words that spilled the water. The bottle had been broken long ago, perhaps since they broke up.

“I can explain. You will understand. So, please.”

‘Lucy.’

She wanted to call him by that name. A sharp pain struck her chest. She had no idea that she would experience such existential pain with such intangible emotions. Why did they become like this?

She trembled with conflicting emotions. She felt sorry for him, and at the same time, she couldn’t believe that he had done such a thing.

If the Duke’s wrongdoing had been comparable to his, Deatrice would have unquestioningly expressed her resentment towards Lucius, her feelings boiling over.

In the grip of her roiling emotions, she would have confronted him, asking if it was true.

But it no longer mattered now.

Lucius had wanted revenge against her, and the emperor, who willingly aided that revenge, sent the Empire’s knights to suppress the Galaba Rebellion.

What was the point of his explanations now?

Inflicting pain, receiving pain – in a sense, they were both trapped in this cycle.

In a world defined by social classes, the weapon you wielded depended on whether you held something significant or not. It was common knowledge that people change and act with the authority they have.

The Duke had pushed Lucius into the depths of despair simply because he could. Conversely, six years later, Lucius had cast the Duke aside, exercising his own power because he could.