Chapter 1
“What on earth kind of trickery did you pull?”+
It was the final day of the victory banquet. Harsh words poured unfiltered onto Olivia. Her father, Duke Madelaine, standing before her, spoke with a coldness that seemed capable of freezing everything.+
“What did you whisper to make Duke Bicander propose to you, the Crown Prince’s fiancée?”+
Contempt flickered in his amethyst eyes as he looked down at Olivia.+
“Just one thing. Were you so utterly hopeless that you couldn’t even manage that single task—becoming Crown Princess without causing any scandal?”+
Just as always.+
It was precisely at that moment that Olivia, who had been silently enduring the sharp criticism as usual, burst into laughter.+
The Duke raised an eyebrow in displeasure, but Olivia had no intention of stopping her laughter.+
Good heavens. To think you’d bring my foolish attachment to such a perfect end.+
The Duke would never understand.+
What had been in my heart when I followed him out of the banquet hall.+
What my expectations—now shattered beyond repair—had truly been at this very moment.+
“Can’t you answer right away?”+
“If I tell you, will you finally believe me?”+
“What?”+
His piercing gaze stabbed through Olivia as though trying to bore holes into her.+
I’ve always endured that look.+
Someday, someday those eyes would kindly look at me, and acknowledge me as his daughter—I never once doubted it.+
There was even a time when I was happy just knowing I shared the silver hair and distinctive traits of the Madelaine ducal line with him.+
But not anymore. My efforts ended here. At her very best, Olivia gave a pale smile.+
“Then I’ll tell you. I never whispered to His Grace the Grand Duke asking him to propose. It was His Highness the Crown Prince who, despite being engaged to me for years, ignored me and grew close to Lady Etel, creating the scandal himself.”+
“Shut that mouth.”+
“It was you yourself, Duke, standing right here, who brought me into this mansion to replace Esela as the Crown Prince’s fiancée—”+
“Shut up!”+
A furious roar shook the night. Birds scattered noisily in alarm.+
Duke Madelaine finally seemed to lose his reason, glaring at Olivia. His violet eyes, as if blood vessels had burst, turned crimson.+
“It’s because of you. You. If only you hadn’t come into my house, nothing would have happened! You made me miserable. It’s all your fault. All of it.”+
Each syllable dripped with choked-back rage. The Duke panted heavily. His hatred was so raw that Olivia had sometimes doubted herself—wondering if it truly wasn’t her fault.+
“Now, and then.”+
“……”+
“I really… didn’t do anything.”+
“……”+
“I didn’t make you unhappy, Your Grace.”+
“Olivia Madelaine! How dare you!”+
Despite the Duke’s thunderous fury, Olivia no longer bowed her head. It was strange. The man who had once loomed so large over her no longer frightened her. It truly seemed time to end things.+
“……You said you wanted to erase me, didn’t you?”+
“If I could, I’d wipe you from my life entirely.”+
Though it had only been a few days, the Duke’s voice—spitting the words out through clenched teeth—rang clear in her memory. The words that once felt as if they’d tear her heart out now only left a dull ache after mere days.+
“I feel the same. I, too, will now erase Madelaine from myself.”+
Madelaine.+
That was the surname I longed for so desperately.+
The noble house I clung to with all my strength, the family I devoted my entire life to loving unrequitedly.+
And all those one-sided affections that never once looked back at me.+
Olivia smiled lightly at all those lost loves.+
“I will erase Madelaine—every last bit of it.”+
Sss— The thread I alone had been pulling snapped with a soft thud.+
“Olivia!!”+
With the Duke’s shout came a flash of murderous intent rushing toward her entire body. Even under that suffocating, ominous pressure, Olivia stood tall. This was the end she had wanted.+
“That’s enough.”+
At that moment, a single pair of footsteps interrupted.+
“If you threaten my precious young lady any further, you’ll make an enemy of all Bicander, Duke.”+
The calm, clear voice warmly enveloped Olivia. The Duke ground his teeth and muttered lowly,+
“……Grand Duke Bicander… Your Highness.”+
Olivia turned around.+
Jet-black hair like a raven’s feather from the abyss, eyes red as gleaming rubies. A man so strikingly handsome it was hard to believe he bore infamous nicknames like “murderer” and “blood fiend.”+
His expression, usually unbreakable and blank, softened into a sweet smile the moment he met Olivia’s eyes.+
It was strange. Neither my family, whom I gave my all for, nor my fiancé, nor anyone else—+
had ever looked at Olivia like that.+
“If you’re done here, I’d like the chance to escort you home, my lady.”+
So tenderly.+
So sweetly.+
With the exact look Olivia had always longed for.+
Early dawn at the Madelaine estate. Voices echoed from the stairs—announcing Duke Madelaine’s departure for work.+
“Did you sleep well?”+
Olivia greeted him, seizing the brief pause in his conversation with his aide. The Duke frowned.+
It was the same expression she’d seen every day for fourteen years since she was six, yet the sharp pang it sent through her heart never grew familiar.+
A gaze colder than one reserved for strangers.+
Pretending not to notice, Olivia offered a gentle smile and held out a tray. As usual, a glass of vegetable juice sat upon it.+
“I made it with vegetables good for your blood vessels.”+
Before she could finish speaking, the Duke resumed walking. His aide, Sir Huxley, who followed behind, lowered his head with an even more embarrassed look before hurrying after him.+
Watching that cold retreating back, Olivia murmured the words she couldn’t bring herself to say aloud.+
“Have a good day, Father.”+
She’d failed again today—handing him the vegetable juice she’d been making for years, greeting him, calling him “Father.”+
But perhaps she’d succeed someday. That single hope had kept Olivia going for fourteen years.+
Because Mother had said so. If I gave my best, my wish would surely come true someday.+
Olivia forced her shoulders to relax and lifted her head. Her eyes fell upon the enormous portrait hanging in the center of the first-floor hall.+
Her father seated in a chair, with the eldest son Conrad and second son Jade standing firmly at his right. On his left stood the youngest, Esela, beaming brightly.+
Olivia glanced at her own awkward figure standing beside Esela in the painting and gave a faint smile. It wasn’t just the slight distance that made her own image in the portrait look so out of place.+
Silver hair, as if crafted from cool moonlight, and shimmering violet eyes—the age-old Madelaine traits. Unlike them, her eyes were green.+
High society called them shameful green eyes, resembling those of a wandering dancer, but Olivia liked her eyes. They were the only trace she’d inherited from her mother.+
Still, she felt a tiny pang of regret. If only I had violet eyes like Esela’s, would my family have treated me differently?+
A flicker of envy passed over Olivia’s green eyes as she gazed at Esela in the portrait.+
But soon, she shook her head.+
Esela, who looked exactly like the late Duchess—once hailed as the flower of high society—only grew more radiant with each passing day.+
Even if my eyes were the same color, I could never match Esela. Above all, Esela was—+
“Sister! You’re already up? Where’s Father?”+
so kind and lovable.+
True to her seventeen years, Esela rubbed her sleepy eyes and descended the stairs. Olivia deliberately spoke coldly.+
“……He’s already left for work.”+
“I came right after waking up. I’m late again today. But Sister—”+
Esela glanced wistfully toward the doorway before approaching Olivia.+
“They say a very unique and pretty floral decoration appeared at Her Highness the Princess’s tea party. Have you heard? It was a brand-new design, and it sounded oddly familiar, like something I’d seen somewhere before.”+
Esela’s voice grew subtly expectant.+
The Princess often assigned tasks to Olivia. This time, one of them had been creating the new floral decoration. As always, the design Olivia had spent days perfecting became a trend under the Princess’s name.+
It must have been popular indeed, if even Esela—who never attended tea parties—had heard about it.+
“That one… I saw it in your room—”+
“I received a few pieces from Her Highness before the tea party. If you like them, I’ll send some to your room.”+
Olivia replied dryly. Disappointment immediately showed on Esela’s face—her hopes clearly dashed—but Olivia pretended not to notice.+
“Thank you. Oh, and… my friend Veronia is hosting a tea party today. Would you come with me? She’s been bragging so much about her cousin sister.”+
Esela looked at her with bright, hopeful eyes and flushed cheeks. Seeing that eager expression, Olivia couldn’t bring herself to bluntly refuse.+
“Well, I…”+
“Esela.”+
A gentle voice overlaid Olivia’s. Esela’s eyes sparkled as she looked up the stairs. It was Conrad.+
“Brother!”+
Esela naturally ran to Conrad and wrapped her arms around his neck. After lightly hugging her and setting her down, Conrad met Olivia’s gaze with cool eyes.+
Olivia understood better than anyone that those eyes were a warning—don’t get close to Esela.+
Conrad asked sweetly,+
“What were you two talking about?”+
“Oh, I was asking Sister to come with me to Veronia’s tea party.”+
“I see. But Olivia, it’s Wednesday today—haven’t you left yet?”+
“Oh right! Wasn’t it today? His Highness the Crown Prince must be waiting!”+
Conrad smoothly changed the subject. Esela nodded, accepting she couldn’t pester further.+
“That’s true. Thank you, Brother.”+
Conrad’s face twisted slightly, but Olivia pretended not to see.+
Olivia liked being called “sister.” It felt truly familial. She cherished that small connection.+
“Then next time, Sister, let’s definitely go together! I’ll ask you early next time!”+
Esela looked at Olivia with regretful eyes. Olivia avoided her gaze. No matter how early Esela asked next time, she’d never be able to go with her.+
“Wow. You didn’t even ask me to go with you, Esela?”+
“Tch. What’s the point of going with Brother? Everyone would just stare at him anyway.”+
Hahaha. Conrad laughed heartily. Esela, stomping up the stairs in mock annoyance, suddenly turned back to Olivia as if struck by an idea.+
“Oh! Sister! Don’t forget dinner tonight! Have a good day!”+
Esela waved energetically and bounded back up the stairs. Conrad, walking after her, tossed over his shoulder as he passed,+
“……Just stick to your duty. Don’t even think about approaching Esela.”+
His sharp words pierced Olivia. Watching his indifferent back disappear, she slowly held her breath—and released it.+
This had been her way of swallowing sadness ever since she first entered the Madelaine household at age six.+
Usually, this helped it all fade away. But even after returning to her room, today’s accumulated sorrow refused to vanish.+
Olivia opened her drawer. Among the five stacked diaries, she pulled out the one she was currently using and flipped it open, then chuckled softly.+
“Oh, it’s all filled.”+
She murmured, gazing at the densely written final page. Just as she was about to slide it back, thinking she’d buy another on her way home—+
her eyes caught the first diary, worn especially thin from frequent handling. Olivia opened it.+
– Today, I called Esela carelessly. I was told it was absolutely unbecoming of a noble and must correct it. I’ll never do it again.+
– My table manners weren’t elegant enough. Father said it ruined his appetite. I must never do that again. Keep thinking, Olivia. Don’t make mistakes—keep giving my best.+
Ink had blurred in places, and the paper seemed to weep. Still, thanks to this diary, I was able to improve. I always wrote down criticisms and worked hard never to repeat them.+
So these stains meant nothing. Olivia’s hand stilled as she skimmed the pages.+
– Perhaps… coming here in the first place was—+
Her very first diary entry, written after much hesitation. At the unfinished sentence, Olivia bit the inside of her cheek.+
She remembered the time her life changed forever—when she was six.+
It all began with her mother’s death.+
Turningle Bell—the street of vagrants and poverty.+
Olivia was born and raised there, alongside her beautiful mother.+
Rats as big as her forearm appeared regularly, and a single loaf of bread was cause for gratitude. Yet Olivia was happy—because her mother’s songs and dances turned every situation into magic.+
Happiness walked out the door when Olivia turned six. Her mother collapsed while going out to work. No medicine helped; she only withered away.+
One day, her mother, who had been staring blankly at Olivia, took her hand.+
This wasn’t her mother’s hand anymore. The strong, gentle hand that used to hold hers now felt so frail it might crumble even under Olivia’s small grip.+
After holding back tears for many days, Olivia finally burst into sobs.+
“Liv… my… dear. Why… are you crying… hmm?”+
Her mother’s soothing voice broke into fragments. The woman who once sang like a canary left no trace of that grace. Though young, Olivia had a gut feeling—+
that she’d never see her mother again.+
Her mother seemed to feel the same.+
“Liv. Listen carefully now, my dear.”+
Hearing her mother speak with unusual strength, Olivia quickly wiped her tears and sat close.+
“Yes.”+
“Your father will come for you soon.”+
“…But Father’s dead.”+
“It was a lie. I’m sorry, my dear.”+
“…”+
“I’m sorry, Liv.”+
“No.”+
Olivia shook her head. She didn’t fully understand her mother’s words with her small mind, but she knew her mother had nothing to apologize for. Just having her mother had made her happier than anyone could imagine.+
“My dear… there… will be brothers… and sisters… there too. They might… find you strange… but you understand, right?”+
Her mother took a labored breath before continuing slowly.+
“…If you… give your best…”+
“…everything will come true.”+
Olivia answered. Her mother’s eyes widened in surprise, as if Olivia had perfectly echoed her thoughts.+
That was her last smile. A few mornings later, her mother never moved again.+
After the simple funeral, Olivia returned home to find a carriage parked outside—one that looked utterly out of place on their street.+
The man standing beside it looked down at Olivia. Under his cold gaze, she shrank into herself.+
“Judging by your hair color, you must be my daughter.”+
He clicked his tongue, then held out his hand toward her. In it was a thread anklet—identical to the one her mother had left her as a keepsake.+
“I came after receiving your mother’s letter. Come with me.”+
