The Reason Why the Forsaken Fake Returned Chapter 18

No matter how many times she gazed upon her reflection, the sight never ceased to fascinate her. It was the same face that had stared back at her fourteen years ago, when she had lost her mother beneath the bridge and entered the orphanage utterly alone—a child bereft of all but her own shadow.

 

“Doris, do you remember?” she asked softly. “When we were with the Diponz family.”

 

“Milady.”

 

“It is strange. When I lived as Claire’s substitute, no matter how deeply I bathed in rose petal water or how fine the silks that adorned my shoulders, I still saw myself as something lowly—despised it, even. But now…” Her voice trailed into wonder. “Now, I find I don’t mind it at all. How odd that is.”

 

Though she remained a nameless singer without a single devoted admirer, she existed now through the inheritance of her mother’s gift—that voice which had once echoed through corridors of memory. As her affection for these humble roots began to flourish, so too did a particular question that had long dwelt in the shadows of her heart.

 

“I wonder what kind of person my father was.”

 

“You said you don’t even know his name?”

 

“Indeed. Mother spoke of him as a very important man, someone so distant that when she discovered my existence, she vanished without leaving so much as a whisper behind.”

 

“If you truly wish it, I could make discreet inquiries on your behalf.”

 

“Truly?”

 

Shailoh turned, her face brightening like dawn breaking over still waters at this unexpected offer.

 

Doris, who had been drawing the brush through her mistress’s hair with practiced strokes, nodded with quiet certainty. “I cannot promise success, but I shall attempt it. I’ve heard of a place that specializes in things like that.”

 

“I would be forever in your debt if you would!” As Shailoh turned and grasped Doris’s hand with both of hers, a voice cut through their intimate conversation like a blade through silk.

 

“Are you quite certain about that?”

 

“Your Highness!”

 

Without so much as a footfall to announce his presence, Caleb had materialized in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, his gaze fixed upon Shailoh with an intensity that seemed to read her very thoughts.

 

“I shall take my leave now,” Doris murmured, offering a swift curtsy before retreating from the room with the practiced silence of one who understood the delicate dance of court intrigue.

 

Caleb raised a hand to forestall Shailoh’s attempt to rise and greet him properly, then approached from behind, his hands coming to rest upon her shoulders with a touch both gentle and possessive.

 

“My congratulations. You have become quite the sensation, Sasha.”

 

“It is all thanks to your generosity… Caleb. No one has recognized me as the Shailoh who once dwelt within the Diponz household.”

 

“The public is rather like migratory birds,” he observed, his voice carrying a note of dry amusement. “They abandon yesterday’s fascinations with remarkable swiftness, always seeking fresh diversions.”

 

“Yet the Diponz family continues their relentless hunt for me. They will not rest until they have seen my lifeless form with their own eyes.”

 

“Speaking of which, Sasha.” Caleb released a soft sigh, his fingers brushing against her cheek with the gentleness of a whispered secret. “Searching for your biological father at this juncture would be most perilous. Should you act with haste before clearing your name and exacting your revenge upon the Diponz family, they might catch wind of your inquiries and strike at him first.”

 

The thought had never occurred to her. Caleb’s touch lingered upon her suddenly cold cheek as he studied her with eyes that seemed to pierce through to her very soul.

 

“Tell me, what is your primary objective at present?”

 

“To clear my name…” The fog that had momentarily clouded her judgment began to lift. Shailoh drew herself up with renewed determination, her voice growing stronger with each word. “I will expose the corruption of the Diponz family and see their noble name dragged through the mud. They shall pay dearly for their betrayal of my love and trust.”

 

“Precisely. So you cannot afford such distractions, can you?”

 

“No. Forgive me.”

 

“Think nothing of it. It is only natural for people to seek their origins when they feel themselves on somewhat safer ground.”

 

“But it is such precarious safety—like walking a tightrope suspended over an abyss. I cannot permit myself to relax until the very end.”

 

A wave of self-recrimination washed over her for such shortsighted thinking. When Shailoh closed her eyes and bowed her head in silent reproach, Caleb’s voice returned, softer now, like velvet drawn across bare skin.

 

“If you still harbor this desire once everything has concluded, I shall personally assist you in finding him. You have my word.”

 

“Thank you, Caleb.”

 

“Now then.” Caleb turned and settled himself upon the couch with fluid grace, steering their conversation toward safer waters. “Have you consulted with the doctor? Are you maintaining your prescribed regimen?”

 

“Ah, yes, the doctor proved most kind. I have been taking the medication faithfully, just as instructed.”

 

“It serves as a nutritional supplement as well, so you must continue without fail.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Caleb reclined against the cushions, his body turning as he beckoned to Shailoh with a single finger—a gesture both commanding and intimate, as one might summon a cherished pet. Without conscious thought, Shailoh rose and approached him. The moment she stood before him, his hand found her waist, drawing her down beside him with surprising gentleness. Then, as if suddenly overcome by weariness, he rested his forehead against her shoulder.

 

“Ca… Caleb.”

 

The warmth of his breath against her skin sent tremors through her frame, and Shailoh found herself rigid as marble, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides.

 

“Is something troubling you?”

 

“I encountered someone today—a soul who once served my mother with unwavering devotion.”

 

It was the first occasion since their initial meeting that he had offered such intimate glimpses into his past. Shailoh found herself leaning forward with quiet attention, waiting for the threads of his story to unfurl.

 

“I learned that Queen Ingrid took it upon herself to destroy every piece of furniture in my mother’s chambers, consigning all her possessions to the flames.”

 

“How could she commit such cruelty?”

 

Indignation flared within Shailoh’s breast as she turned toward him, but the moment her cheek brushed against the silk of his platinum hair, she swiftly faced forward once more. Heat bloomed across her features like roses in summer, though Caleb, his eyes closed in weary contemplation, continued his tale.

 

“My father has languished in bed for many months now, his mind grown dim as twilight. I suspect he remains quite unaware of the destruction that surrounds him.”

 

“You must reclaim your rightful place within the palace walls,” Shailoh declared with quiet fervor. “You are the legitimate heir to the throne, Caleb. Though I would never wish for His Majesty’s premature departure from this world.”

 

Her hastily appended words caused Caleb’s shoulders to tremble with barely contained mirth. Shailoh watched with growing uncertainty, unable to discern whether he found amusement or offense in her declaration.

 

“Pfft… Hahahaha!” Unable to contain his laughter any longer, Caleb lifted his head and brushed away the tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes.

 

The old man would indeed be better served by a swift journey to his eternal rest, though not quite yet. The stepmother’s inability to hasten the king’s demise and fully devour the kingdom stemmed from the loyal servants who maintained their vigil at his bedside in endless rotation. Moreover, there remained the considerable threat that Caleb himself presented to her ambitions.

 

“Why do you find such humor in my words?”

 

“Forgive me. It was the manner in which you so hurriedly added that final sentiment.”

 

“I simply wished to avoid any misunderstanding of my intentions.”

 

“I am well aware of your meaning.” Caleb’s chuckle softened to something more contemplative as he began to illuminate the shadows of their circumstances. “Sasha, I, too, walk upon a precipice of my own making. This realm may present a facade of prosperity and abundance, yet beneath that gilded surface lies something far more fragile. The peace we have thus far enjoyed exists solely because the king at its heart and the three dukes have maintained a delicate balance—checking one another’s power whilst cooperating when necessity demands.”

 

“But surely the oath ensures the three dukes’ loyalty to Your Highness…?” Shailoh’s voice carried a note of puzzlement, though her words faltered as understanding began to dawn within her mind like the first pale light of morning. “You rescued me, and in doing so, you have set yourself against the Diponz family.”

 

“That is not the heart of the matter, Sasha. The Diponz would never have offered me their true allegiance regardless.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“The oath has become little more than parchment and ink, rendered obsolete by the turning of time’s wheel. The age when kings could demand blind loyalty based solely upon noble blood has passed into memory. As long as someone bearing royal lineage occupies the throne, the three dukes will maintain their facade of loyalty. Yet I have dwelt in foreign lands for so many years that I hold no true influence over their actions. Furthermore…”

 

“…”

 

“The original oath contained a provision that the bloodlines of the three ducal houses and the royal family must never intertwine. Yet now, Queen Ingrid actively promotes a union between Prince Albert and Lady Perus.”

 

“What?” Shailoh’s eyes widened with the shock of revelation.

 

A bitter smile curved Caleb’s lips as he continued his explanation, each word weighted with years of accumulated pain. “It was Queen Ingrid who orchestrated the deaths of both my mother and brother. This proposed marriage between Lady Perus and Prince Albert serves merely as a stepping stone—a means to place her own son upon the throne whilst ensuring my permanent removal from this world.”

 

“How can such evil exist…” Shailoh quickly averted her gaze, her hand rising to cover her mouth as emotion threatened to overwhelm her composure. Her nose tingled with unshed tears, and a tightness gathered in her throat like a gathering storm. Memories flickered through her consciousness—her near sale to the Grid Merchant Guild Leader, Claire’s perpetually sorrowful countenance.

 

Neither the royal family nor the nobility possessed any true understanding of those who stood beneath their lofty positions. Why did their world make it impossible to simply love one person, marry them, bear children, and live an ordinary existence? Was wealth and power truly worth such a sacrifice? Did the preservation of noble bloodlines hold such paramount importance?

 

Despite the vast differences in their stations, Shailoh felt a profound kinship with Caleb’s unhappy past, recognizing in it an echo of her own suffering. Did he experience the same desolation that drove her to seek solace by the lakeside in the pale hours of dawn?

 

“…Sasha?”

 

Caleb studied her expression with growing concern, wondering if tears had begun to fall. In the next moment, she rose from her place and embraced him with touching awkwardness, her arms encircling him like a sanctuary against the cruelties of the world.

 

“You must have endured such profound loneliness.”

 

“…”

 

Her voice trembled with the weight of shared sorrow. His hand, which had instinctively moved to encompass her delicate shoulders, hesitated at the threshold of her next words.