The Reason Why the Forsaken Fake Returned Chapter 62

Prince Albert was the same age as her, twenty‑three. In honor of his birthday, the royal family was hosting a lavish banquet. Unlike the engagement party, which had mainly invited powerful, dignified nobles, this birthday celebration was a masquerade ball packed with young nobles, the wealthy, and celebrities. From world‑famous singers visiting from abroad to the poets and actors she’d only ever seen as illustrations in the papers, everyone was there.

 

While most guests had chosen concepts like goddesses and gods from ancient myths, or fairies, Shailoh and Caleb had come as a witch and a demon. Caleb, in a jet‑black half mask evoking a raven, the emblem of a demon, with a black feathered cloak, and a pitch-black suit, drew plenty of attention on his own. But Shailoh, as if she’d planned it that way, seized every eye in the room.

 

Her own jet‑black half mask matched his as a pair, and the dress that bared the line of her cleavage had a strange, compelling magic that made it impossible to look away from her, from head to toe. A daring slit ran up to mid‑thigh, leaving her boldly exposed. Both of them wore masks, but the moment they appeared at the banquet, everyone knew exactly who they were. Curious, wary gazes fixed on the two of them in an instant. Yet though people circled nearby as if on guard, no one dared to approach them lightly.

 

Just then, someone pushed through the crowd toward them. “Prince Caleb! And Miss Griche!”

 

It was none other than Octavia Ferus. Her concept was the exact opposite of theirs. She was dressed as an angel, with wings of pure white feathers fastened to her back. The innocent, radiant look suited her better than anyone.

 

Octavia glanced between Shailoh and Caleb and spoke with open admiration. “We meet again. Those costumes look amazing on you both.”

 

“You’re too kind. Good evening, Lady Octavia.”

 

“Just call me Octavia.” Smiling, she flicked open her fan and turned her head toward Caleb. “The Duke of Cornwall said he was really looking forward to his older brother coming.”

 

Duke of Cornwall. She called Caleb by his given name without formality, yet when it came to her own fiancé, she used a title that kept him at arm’s length. As Shailoh was thinking how strange that was, Caleb gave a faint smile and accepted her greeting.

 

“Is that so?”

 

“He really was.” Octavia chattered playfully, then glanced around and pointed to one side. “Oh, he’s looking this way now.”

 

Just as she said, Albert, who had been chatting among his many close aides, spotted them and came over at once. “So you came, Brother.”

 

“Of course I did. It’s my one and only little brother’s birthday. Congratulations.”

 

“Well, when you put it like that. Thank you. And this is…?” Albert’s lingering gaze traveled slowly up and down Shailoh.

 

Disgust twisted in her stomach, and before she knew it, she’d grabbed hold of Caleb’s sleeve.

 

Caleb, naturally, introduced her to his younger brother. “Miss Sasha Griche. As you know, she’s the singer I sponsor.”

 

“Ah. I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

 

“Sasha, this is the third prince, Albert.”

 

“It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Your Highness. Thank you for inviting me to such a splendid occasion.”

 

“Think nothing of it. You’re the singer my brother cherishes and supports so much. Of course I had to see your face for myself.” Albert grinned, then abruptly turned to Caleb. “It’s my birthday. Did you bring me a present?”

 

“Of course. I handed it to a valet.”

 

“I see.” Albert nodded, then looked straight at Shailoh.

 

Meeting his eyes, Shailoh’s expression turned awkward. “Ah, I…” There had been far too little time to prepare a gift. And finding something suitable for the third prince, who seemed to own everything already, was no easy task. “I must apologize, I wasn’t able to prepare anything.”

 

“She’s with me, so let her share the credit for the gift I brought.”

 

“Oh, but that won’t do. What should we do about that?” As if he’d been waiting for this, Albert shook his head. “I’m taking one gift from everyone, you see. Whatever it may be.” His narrowed eyes settled on Shailoh. “In fact, there’s something in particular I’d like to receive from Miss Griche. Would you grant me that?”

 

“Something you’d like to receive?”

 

Caleb raised an eyebrow. Albert’s attitude was like a man haggling with a shepherd over the price of a ewe. Shailoh froze at the sudden demand, and Caleb set a hand on her shoulder.

 

“It’d be better if you asked her directly, Albert.”

 

“And what would that be?”

 

“I’d like to ask you for a song. The stage is already prepared.”

 

A single song. It wasn’t a difficult request. And yet she couldn’t shake a vague sense of unease.

 

Just then, Caleb murmured in her ear. “You can say no.”

 

“…No. It’s fine.”

 

It was a small thing, but this was a time when she had to tread carefully, step by step. Even her smallest action could turn into something much larger and come back to affect Caleb. Shailoh became acutely aware of Albert and Octavia watching her in silence. She could feel, almost like pinpricks on her skin, the countless eyes that were pretending not to watch the four of them. For now, she had to put on a show of peace. Only if there appeared to be no hint of discord between the brothers would things later work in Caleb’s favor.

 

“I’ll sing.”

 

Placing her hand lightly over his, Shailoh accepted Albert’s request. As if he’d known she would, Albert smiled and pointed toward the orchestra playing off to one side.

 

“There’s an orchestra over there, so you can sing in front of them. Tell them what piece you want, and they’ll play it for you.”

 

“Yes.” Shailoh nodded and walked toward the musicians, one careful step at a time. One of the players, recognizing her, quickly stepped forward to ask what she intended to sing. “The Lady of Lote Island.”

 

“Excellent choice. It takes a lot of technique, but it’s one of the best to listen to.”

 

The conductor laughed heartily and raised his baton. At once, horns, violins, and cellos blended together and poured out a flowing melody. Clearing her throat, Shailoh stood under the weight of the room’s attention and began to sing in a high, clear voice.

 

“Lady of Lote Island. Today again, she stands alone at the pier. Waiting for her betrothed fisherman to return. Until the rocks are worn away by the waves. So lovely and so forlorn is her figure that even passing ships are made to stop. Lady of Lote Island. With skin like pearls and beautiful eyes. Her singing voice is like jade beads rolling along. Though suitors crowed around her, even today she stands upon the pier. Sing us a song, won’t you? Every passing man is left heartsick. And when, before you know it, her betrothed returns, the Lady of Lote Island fades away. The beautiful Lady of Lote Island.”

 

The moment the song ended, a brief silence fell, then a storm of applause filled the hall. Shailoh accepted the praise as calmly as ever. Every time the curtain fell, she received it, and by now she was used to it.

 

Albert, who had been staring at her as if spellbound, joined in the clapping as he came over to her. “As excellent as I expected! Your voice has such a distinctive timbre.”

 

The piece she had sung told the story of a simple, steadfast island girl and the young man who watched her. The lyrics were light and uncomplicated, but the blend of high notes and ornamentation made it a demanding song. It was the sort of piece that only a fairly seasoned singer would even dare attempt, yet her performance was flawless enough to satisfy even the most fastidious connoisseur.

 

“With talent like that, it’s no wonder you made a name for yourself so early. I was truly impressed.”

 

“You flatter me, Your Highness. I only hope this could serve, however humbly, as a gift.”

 

“A gift? It’s more than enough. It’s overflowing.”

 

Seeing how thoroughly satisfied Albert was, a thought flashed across Shailoh’s mind. She didn’t hesitate and seized the unexpected chance. “In that case… If it wouldn’t be presumptuous of me, Your Highness, could you grant me one favor?”

 

“A favor?”

 

“I’d like to visit the royal library.” Shailoh cast a sidelong glance toward Caleb, who was some distance away, speaking with the cluster of people that had gathered around him. Octavia stood at his side.

 

“Why?” Albert tilted his head, clearly taken aback by the request. “Is there some book you need? If there is, you can ask my brother and—”

 

“I’ve heard that the royal library here is a treasure house of knowledge built up over hundreds of years. I’d like to see it for myself.” Shailoh smiled, her expression saying she had no other motive at all.

 

Albert fell silent for a moment, as if weighing it, then shrugged. “It’s not a difficult request. Very well.”

 

A servant holding up a silver tray stepped to his side. Albert took two glasses, one in each hand, and offered one to Shailoh. At the same time, he lifted the other glass high. At his unspoken signal, the music stopped. As if on cue, everyone turned their eyes to the guest of honor whose birthday they were celebrating.

 

Albert swept his gaze in a slow circle around the room and raised his voice. “Welcome, all of you, to my birthday banquet!”

 

Scattered applause answered him from here and there.

 

Albert continued his speech. “Many things have happened over the past few months, but everything has been resolved.” His eyes lingered on Caleb for a brief moment. It was not a long pause, but it was deliberate. Then Albert raised his other hand high as well and brought his speech to a close. “May peace rest upon your homes and your enterprises alike. Let us drink to that!”

 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he drained his glass. One after another, the others followed suit and emptied theirs. Shailoh, too, emptied the glass in her hand.