The Reason Why the Forsaken Fake Returned Chapter 51

“That’s right. That information… only my mother and I know it for sure.”

 

The hope that it might not be true was shattered without mercy. His head spun from the shock, and his legs went weak. Maybe it was the opium he’d been sucking down nonstop, but he barely managed to prop his collapsing body against the wall. Albert pulled out the spare gun he always carried, just in case, and aimed it.

 

“Idiot. I don’t know if you went to all this trouble just to kill me, but did you really think I’d only carry one gun?”

 

Instead of answering, Caleb just tipped his chin, as if to say, ‘Go on, try.’

 

Albert’s hand trembled as he thumbed off the safety and immediately pulled the trigger. But what rang out wasn’t the sharp bang of a clean shot. It was a hollow, empty sound.

 

“What on earth…?”

 

“Don’t waste your strength. Sit on the ottoman over there.”

 

Ignoring Caleb’s order, Albert stayed on his feet and glared at him.

 

Once Albert left the palace, the royal guards never put anything in their mouths, just in case. And yet someone had slipped drugged water to those guards and tampered with his gun? It was impossible unless there was a mole inside the palace. Someone very close, close enough to meddle with his daily life.

 

“…So it really is Count Dwibon, then. But I was sure I’d been careful.”

 

It looked like the count still had underlings Albert hadn’t managed to root out.

 

Bang! The moment Albert ran through the faces of a few servants and maids in his mind, a bullet grazed his ear and buried itself in the wall.

 

“Guh… haah…” Brushed by death by the narrowest margin, Albert finally slid down to the floor. His guts turned to ice, and his heart plummeted. While he was still reeling, a cold command dropped over his head.

 

“Sit down. Albert.”

 

Forcing his emotions down, Albert clenched his teeth and did as he was told, dragging over the nearby ottoman and sitting. The second Caleb lowered his gun, Albert muttered under his breath. “Were you trying to kill me?”

 

“…”

 

“You waited until I was pickled in opium to make your move. Cunning and cowardly. Do you have any idea how many eyes and ears are in this place? The moment you lay a hand on me, you’re a dead man too. Once my mother has her pretext, she’ll have your head off in a heartbeat.”

 

The air between the two men was drawn tight like a taut string. In that precarious moment, where everything would collapse if either of them relaxed their grip, the first to open his mouth was Caleb.

 

“I was reckless at your engagement party, but I’m not stupid. I don’t plan on killing you.”

 

“Bullshit. You can really spit out a lie like that in this situation?”

 

“If I meant to kill you, you’d already be sprawled on the floor without me wasting my breath talking. There are plenty who go on a rampage, soaked in opium, and then get carried away and kill themselves.”

 

Albert wanted to deny it, but the logic held. At a loss for a retort, he simply watched Caleb in silence.

 

“I have a proposal for you, Albert. And it’s not all that bad for you, either.”

 

“…A proposal?” It was the last word he’d expected to hear.

 

Caleb took out a cigarette, lit the filter, drew in deep, and exhaled. The smoke was so thick it stung his eyes, but somehow it calmed his mind.

 

“I’m proposing a temporary peace. I want to be able to come back here without anyone getting in my way.”

 

“You really know how to say the most ridiculous things.” Letting out a deflated sound, Albert gave a hollow laugh and shook his head. He raised his index and middle fingers and folded them down one by one. “Let me give you your options, Brother. First, you sit there and let yourself be killed quietly. Second, you sign a formal renunciation of the throne in front of all the nobles and clergy and swear never to set foot in this country again.”

 

“So the choice is whether I die early or die slow.” Caleb took it in stride and countered. “Fine. Let’s say I die, one way or another. You’ll safely become the crown prince and then inherit the throne. But when that time comes, will this kingdom really be yours?”

 

“What?”

 

“Albert. You know this already, but the whole world sees you as nothing more than your mother’s puppet. No matter what you do, what policies you push, how virtuously you rule, all the credit will go to Queen Ingrid. And every bit of her misrule and extravagance will land squarely on your shoulders.”

 

Each word didn’t just stab like a dagger; it twisted like a blade driven deep into his heart.

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Compared to my older brother, the first prince, whom your mother had killed, you don’t measure up to a speck of dust. Back when we were being trained to rule, you were always at the very bottom. I, at least, managed to surpass him in a few areas.”

 

A figure long treated as taboo, unmentionable even in whispers, suddenly rose to the surface.

 

Veins stood out on the back of Albert’s hand as he clenched his fist. “I told you to shut your mouth.”

 

“You’ll spend your whole life being compared to the former crown prince, who was perfect in every way. They’ll question your fitness, and you’ll live forever in your mother’s shadow, playing her puppet. Rotting away in opium and whores, just like now.”

 

“You son of a bitch!” Albert trembled for a heartbeat, struck right where it hurt most, then the surge of humiliation exploded. He hurled himself at Caleb. But his opium-soaked body quickly lost its balance, and he went sprawling in the wrong direction.

 

Caleb rose lightly to his feet and looked down at him. “Duke of Cornwall, this is a deal. I’m offering you a chance to prove your ability to the key ministers and to win your mother’s recognition. In return, all you have to do is officially accept me into the capital.”

 

“Who’s stupid enough to invite a tiger into his own house?”

 

“Albert.” With the weary look of a man dealing with a stubborn child, Caleb pushed his bangs back and added, “I just want to live in peace. Even with Count Dwibon on my side, I’m no real threat compared to you, who already controls the capital.”

 

“…”

 

“Besides, I have a woman I’ve promised my life to. Is it such an outrageous wish to want to guarantee her safety?”

 

“…A woman, huh.”

 

Propping himself up on one arm, Albert worked his sluggish brain. Was this idiot so blinded by love that he was ready to throw away the throne and everything with it? It was, undeniably, a mouthwatering offer. After a long, brooding silence, he suddenly flipped Caleb the middle finger. “Shove it, brother.”

 

Even so, Albert couldn’t accept it. Caleb was far too great a threat to take in, no matter what he was offering in return.

 

As if he’d expected that answer, Caleb kneaded the back of his neck with a tired look, then pulled something from his inner pocket and tossed it down beside Albert. When Albert checked what it was, his pupils shook violently.

 

“This is….”

 

“The suicide note left by the stable boy who ‘fixed’ your horse that day. Naturally, the original is stored elsewhere.”

 

Albert crushed the paper in his fist once he’d read it.

 

“I’ll give you time to think.”

 

Sensing that this would take longer than he’d hoped, Caleb brought the conversation to a close. He’d thrown out two baits; all that remained now was to wait.

 

* * *

Shailoh returned to the capital ten days after Olivier’s sudden death. In the meantime, the world had been in an uproar over Baroness Elton’s divorce and three-year prison sentence, and over Baroness Boris’s death. But once people failed to find any fresh gossip, the excitement quickly cooled.

 

“Baron Boris seems to have fallen into deep despair. They say that ever since the funeral, he’s stopped eating altogether. He doesn’t sleep, either.”

 

“…I see.”

 

At Doris’s report, Shailoh squeezed her eyes shut. The grief she’d managed to hold at bay for a while began to surge back. Their time together hadn’t been long, but she and Olivier had gone through a lot side by side and shared real feelings.

 

Seeing Shailoh’s darkened expression, Doris, wearing a similarly troubled look, soon guided her toward the bedchamber. “Now that you’re back, you should rest properly. Outwardly, you’ve only been away at a country villa for a short convalescence, so we’ve already scaled back your public appearances for the time being.”

 

“Tell Jenine—”

 

“You want Jenine to find out the details and the full story, don’t you?” Doris, who could now read her intentions without needing the rest of the sentence, cut her off.

 

“Please….”

 

Nodding weakly, Shailoh went up the stairs and opened the bedroom door. Her body felt as heavy as waterlogged cotton, and her eyelids weighed just as much. Without even washing, she trudged over to the bed and collapsed onto it. The moment her head touched the pillow, sleep crashed over her.

 

When she opened her eyes again, the bright sun from earlier had already dipped, and the room was dim. A small commotion was going on downstairs, and it made her wake up fully. She could hear Doris in a brief scuffle with someone.

 

“You can’t go in! Please wait here.”

 

After holding back the person who sounded ready to storm up the stairs at any moment, Doris came and knocked on the bedroom door.