The Reason Why the Forsaken Fake Returned Chapter 68

Shailoh did as Doris had urged her to, tugging a hat down low and covering as much of her face as possible on her way to the café, but a sudden gust tore it off, baring her face in broad daylight. It happened in a flash.

 

“I don’t know how she has the nerve to walk around like that.”

 

“Exactly. She’s an utterly shameless woman.”

 

As contemptuous eyes converged on her, Shailoh stiffened her spine and picked the hat up from where it had fallen. The loathing and curiosity that seemed to needle her skin sent a wave of humiliation crashing over her. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and disappear, but she held her ground.

 

“This is definitely Evan Diponz’s handiwork. He must’ve overheard what happened that day from a courtier and, without a word to anyone, gone and pulled a stunt like this.”

 

If Caleb was right, putting her through this and breaking her spirit was exactly what Evan Diponz was after. He, too, had told her to stay inside until the misunderstanding was cleared up, but she had no desire to do that. The resentful looks and open insults were hard enough to endure, but what was even harder was the thought of yielding to them. She wasn’t going to dance to Evan Diponz’s tune.

 

Evan was probably hoping that if she suffered enough, she’d leave Caleb’s side of her own accord. Then, once no one cared what became of her, he’d spirit her away so quietly that not even a whisper of it would get out.

 

By then, Shailoh had already dusted off her hat and set it back on her head. When she met the eyes of the women who’d been clicking their tongues at her, they jerked their faces away, as if they’d just laid eyes on some kind of insect.

 

“Welcome.”

 

Thankfully, after she’d scooped up the hat and put it back on, no one out on the street seemed to recognize her. She ordered a simple coffee and a small bite to eat from the waiter, then opened the script she’d brought along. All the other pieces she’d been considering had fallen through, so this was the only opportunity she could still grab.

 

Whatever happened, Shailoh didn’t want to let go of the road to becoming a singer. It had started out as a means to an end, but now it was one of the dreams she wanted to keep. That was thanks to Wyson, who’d told her she’d inherited her mother’s voice and talent. Even in circumstances like these, if she could show a level of skill no one could dare find fault with, then at least the reputation of Sasha Griche, the singer, was something no one would be able to tear down. Her voice was her mother’s legacy; she refused to see it dragged through the mud.

 

The script told the story of a woman who’d been cast away. She fell in love with a man, destroyed her own nation for him, and in the end was killed by his father. The stage was dominated by tragic, grand songs.

 

“It’s pretty good overall, but…” Something about the ending still didn’t sit right with her. Shailoh took out a pen and, on a separate notepad she’d brought, began revising the conclusion that had come to mind.

 

“Here’s what you ordered.”

 

“Ah, thank you.”

 

As she cleared the table so the dishes could be set down, the script slipped off and fell. She bent to pick it up, but the waiter beat her to it, holding it out along with a folded piece of paper.

 

“That…”

 

“It looked like it came out of there.”

 

Shailoh thanked him with a look and unfolded the paper. In Wyson’s handwriting, something had been written.

 

[You might remember I said there was one more person who asked about Rozena last time. If you want to know who that person is, go to this place around noon. Anytime.]

 

There was an address, not far from here, on the outskirts. The unexpected note made Shailoh’s hands tremble. Her heart began to race, an inexplicable thrill winding around her. It felt like she’d found a faint shaft of light in a darkness with no end.

 

She hastily looked around and checked the clock. Fortunately, there were still thirty minutes left until noon. She wasn’t too late.

 

* * *

The place indicated by the note was an abandoned church that no one visited. Getting out of the hired carriage and approaching the church, Shailoh felt her heart beating fast. Maybe her birth father would be inside. Even in her bleak situation, the thought that she might finally meet the father she’d always wondered about made her excited.

 

“Excuse me.”

 

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Shailoh turned the doorknob and entered. But inside, there were only abandoned chairs and a pulpit.

 

“Ha.”

 

What had she been expecting? A flood of disappointment crashed over her, and Shailoh had to brace herself against the wall just to keep from collapsing. That was when she heard someone behind her.

 

“So we meet here at last.”

 

The voice made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up. That wasn’t right. If it were her father, he would be an older man. But this was the voice of a young person. And there was something about it that tugged at her memory.

 

She slowly turned her head. Then her legs gave way. “Duke Yesiol?”

 

“Why are you here?”

 

It felt as if the blood in her veins had frozen solid. Fearful that this might be a trap, she frantically scanned her surroundings, but there was no one else.

 

“There’s no need to be so wary. I’ve no intention of harming you. If I did, I’d have acted long before now.” As though he’d expected her reaction, Declen let out a quiet sigh and began to walk toward her, unhurried.

 

Shailoh shook her head and thrust out a hand. “Stop right there!”

 

“…”

 

“Why are you here? What’s your relationship with Mr. Wyson? Do you know who my birth father is?”

 

Declen ignored her attempt to hold him off. He shrugged out of his coat and draped it around her shoulders. She ought to refuse, but that strangely gentle gesture caught at something inside her, and she couldn’t move.

 

“Of course I know.”

 

“What?”

 

Declen lowered himself to meet her gaze, looking at her trembling form as he spoke seriously. “Your birth father is my father.”

 

“What are you saying…?”

 

“You’re my half-sister, Shailoh. I’m your older brother.”

 

“That can’t be… How is that possible?” She couldn’t accept it.

 

Declen lifted her from the cold floor and eased her down onto one of the pews. Only once they were seated side by side did the shock begin to loosen its hold. Watching her carefully, Declen went on. “Rozena was my father’s lover.”

 

“I can’t believe that. With the previous Duke Yesiol? How did they even meet?”

 

“It was a remarkable coincidence. My father hadn’t been to the capital in ten years, but one night, he heard singing on the street and stopped in his tracks. That’s how he met your mother. And that’s how you were conceived.”

 

Declen drew a packet of letters from inside his coat and held them out. They were love letters exchanged between Rozena and the late Duke Yesiol. The handwriting was unmistakably her mother’s. Tears spilled as Shailoh hugged the letters to her chest. Every line spoke of how fiercely they had loved one another.

 

Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind, those rare moments when she’d spoken of Shailoh’s father. All she’d ever said was that he’d been a man from a distinguished family.

 

“So you’re saying my mother was the previous duke’s mistress…”

 

“That’s not it.” Declen cut her off with a decisive shake of his head.

 

Shailoh looked up at him, eyes rimmed red. “My mother died right after I was born. So at that time, my father had no wife. The two of them were legitimate lovers. My father intended to welcome her as his wife.”

 

“But… it didn’t work out, did it?”

 

“When he went away briefly to persuade the family elders who opposed the match, your mother disappeared. No matter how hard he searched, he couldn’t find her. He longed for her until the moment he closed his eyes for good.”

 

The gulf between their stations had never been something easily bridged.

 

Shailoh sobbed, shoulders shaking. A quiet hand moved gently over her back. There was a plain, unadorned kindness in the touch that gradually calmed her.

 

“Is he… well?”

 

She had never seen him, not once, and maybe that was why the thought of him hurt all the more. Even putting the question into words felt almost too bold. But the answer that came next felt like someone was shaving thin slices off her heart.

 

“He’s dead. He passed away not long ago.”

 

“…”

 

“With these letters, he asked me to find you and make you happy. I’ve been searching for you ever since.”

 

“So… that’s why you helped me. You’ve been watching over me all this time.”

 

Declen gave a faint smile and, a bit clumsily, reached out to wipe her tears away with his index finger. Shailoh didn’t pull back. Unlike Caleb, he clearly wasn’t used to gestures like this. He was awkward, but the warmth in his touch was no less than Caleb’s. She saw her tear-streaked face reflected in his dark pupils.

 

“I was lucky I decided to shadow Wyson, just in case. When I laid my intentions bare, he hesitated for a long time, then finally told me everything. That you were Rozena’s only daughter.”

 

Only then did Countess Kalen’s remark about her maybe having northern blood, and the way he’d stared at her so intently, all fall into place.

 

“…Sasha.” As if uncertain about the distance between them, Declen hesitated and called her attention. “I’m sorry for what you’re going through. I can help you.”

 

“…”

 

“You’re the only daughter my father ever acknowledged. If you wish it, I’ll give you a new world. I’ll give you the chance to start over from the beginning as the sole young lady of the Yesiol family. Whatever you want, I’ll grant it.” He meant every word. Not a single one was spoken lightly.

 

Shailoh gazed quietly at her half-brother.