SMR 99

~Chapter 99~ 

For someone who was supposedly “undeserving,” the Empress hadn’t shown the slightest sign of discomfort in Harriet’s presence. However, Harriet no longer trusted the powerful’s outward behavior. So, she merely nodded along to Trisha’s opinion.

“I mean, I’m grateful, but… is all this really necessary?”

Trisha clicked her tongue and scolded her sharply.

“What kind of nonsense is that? Of course it’s necessary! An unmarried young lady caught up in nasty rumors—someone has to take responsibility!”

“…Those rumors have been around for a while, though.”

“You speak as if it doesn’t concern you! You should be working day and night to clear your name. How can you act so calmly?”

Harriet gave a sheepish smile. Despite Trisha’s concerns, she was already preparing for another reckless plan.

‘Just this once, Grandma. After this, I’ll behave—I promise.’

She couldn’t explain why she was so emotionally involved in Cedric’s affairs. But the thought of that brooch being lost forever because she hadn’t acted… made it impossible to sit still.

Still, she couldn’t afford to waste the opportunity Cedric had given her to recover her reputation. So, if she was going to attend the Angelique party, she’d have to hide her identity completely.

A lavish mask that covered two-thirds of her face. A wig in a color opposite to her natural hair. A dress she would wear once and then burn.  And as long as she kept her mouth shut, no one would recognize her.

Tez Roark knows who I am… but even if a rumor starts, I’ll just deny it. No one else will figure it out.

After all, Bella had gotten through plenty of situations like this by making up stories.

Harriet braced herself.

***

But when evening came, and the moment to wear the mask finally arrived, Harriet found herself sighing over and over again.

She’d felt so determined while preparing her disguise—but now that it was time to meet Tez, fear took over.

‘I’ve lost my mind. I must be completely insane.’

What had she been thinking, agreeing to attend such a vulgar party with Tez Roark of all people?

She didn’t even fully understand his motives. And yet here she was, about to walk into a dangerous affair with him.

‘This is wrong. If Great-Aunt finds out, she’ll lock me in my room forever. I know it’s wrong, but…’

There was no justifying it—Harriet knew that.

But then she remembered what Albert had said:

‘Ah, right! Let’s offer it as a prize at the Angelique party. It’s a hero’s heirloom—it’ll attract plenty of guests.’

Cedric hadn’t heard that. And there was no way Prince Michael would pass the message along. Upsetting Albert wouldn’t benefit him.

So… should she go to Cedric herself and admit she’d eavesdropped?

‘He’d only be angry that I was spying.’

She could already imagine the cold look in Cedric’s eyes—like he was silently asking, Are you one of them too?

Cedric had already turned down a chance to retrieve the brooch at minimal cost. Maybe it really didn’t matter to him anymore.

Maybe she was the only one who cared—because she kept imagining how she would feel if someone had her father’s keepsake.

‘If someone told me they had something of my father’s, I’d trade all of Perillas just to get it back…’

Harriet couldn’t forget that John had burned all her parents’ belongings.

At the time, he’d sold off anything worth money. Then, he and Miriam convinced her—through vague, untraceable stories—that burning the rest was an act of mercy.

“If you keep the belongings of the dead, their souls won’t rest. We did it for their peaceful afterlife.”

As a child, Harriet had believed them. The pain of losing her parents was unbearable—but she’d endured it, trusting her uncle’s words.

It wasn’t until she grew older and realized it had been a lie that she searched for their belongings—only to find there was nothing left.

To this day, she didn’t know why her uncle had been so thorough in erasing her parents’ existence.

Harriet picked up the ornate mask and turned it over in her hands.

She knew this was foolish—but the aching, hollow sense of loss hadn’t gone away.

‘I can’t reclaim my parents’ things… but I can help him get his father’s brooch back.’

Her fingertips brushed the velvet surface of the mask.

She had never been to a masquerade. Never worn anything like this. She knew nothing about disguises.

So she’d picked the one that hid the most of her face and that least matched her own tastes. Now that she looked at it again, it reminded her of the kind of mask Bella used to wear.

Only her lips and lower jaw would be visible. The rest was covered in velvet, fake jewels, and feathers—no one would remember a face hidden behind this.

“If no one recognizes me, I’ll be fine.”

She sat at her vanity and put on the wig she’d prepared. She had picked the color most unlike her own—but it looked startlingly like Bella’s signature golden blonde.

She carefully pinned every strand of her dark brown hair out of sight and added a glittering hairpin.

Then came the mask.

‘This mask can make even the golden rose of Genoa (Bella) look like plain Harriet. So why can’t the opposite be true?’

She looked straight into the mirror.

With a different hair color and deep-colored lipstick, the reflection no longer felt like her.

Finally, she opened a container labeled “Fake Beauty Marks”—something she had never used before.

With tweezers, she picked one and placed it just below her chin—where it symbolized “self-restraint” or “secrecy.”

Then she added two more. One on her left neck, and another above her chest—just like the marks Bella had.

‘If someone mistakes me for Bella, great. And if they don’t—it doesn’t matter.’

Harriet rose from her seat. She had to leave now if she wanted to meet Tez at the port on time.

***

To avoid being caught by Trisha, Harriet switched carriages twice on the way to El Mare port.

When she finally arrived at the innermost warehouse, the area was eerily deserted.

Only the sound of gentle waves echoed in the quiet.

‘Did I come to the wrong place?’

She remained inside the carriage, peeking out to scan the area, when a figure emerged from the shadows of the warehouse and began approaching.

She was wearing a full mask—he should’ve found it strange. But the man only spoke in a hoarse, gravelly voice that sent a chill down her spine.

“Who are you here to see?”

“I’ve come to meet ‘Ray of Everfoot.’ I’m ‘Liez of Montmare,’” she answered, using the code Tez had taught her.

The man pulled a folder from under his arm and glanced at it under the dim lamplight. Then he nodded.

“This way. He’s been expecting you.”

Harriet’s stomach tightened, but she followed him with as much confidence as she could muster, stepping into the foreboding warehouse.

From the outside, it looked like any other building at the port. But inside—it could’ve been the basement of a noble estate.

Decorative electric lamps. Plush rugs of animal fur. Velvet sofas. Wine glasses and liquor bottles. The strange scent of cigars in the air.

The room was filled with nobles, no doubt waiting to board the ship. Everyone wore masks, so no faces were identifiable, and—thankfully—everyone was still behaving normally.

At the entrance, the man who had led her there turned and announced:

“Mr. Ray, your partner, Miss Liez, has arrived.”

A man who had been smoking in the corner stood up and approached.

His raven-black mask covered his upper face, but Harriet recognized Tez instantly.

“I was afraid you might not come,” he said with a smile.

“How could I pass up something so intriguing?” she replied, smiling back and placing her hand on his offered arm.

Just before they moved, the man at the entrance pulled a small stamp from his pocket and pressed it onto the back of Harriet’s hand.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“A very expensive mark,” he said with a wicked grin.

Then he turned and disappeared into the night.