Fakes Don’t Want To Be Real Chapter 13

Chapter 13

 

＊＊＊

After sending the man who kept casting her heated looks away, wondering if he’d eaten something wrong, Psychke headed for the training grounds.

The sun had already set, and it was time for the private soldiers to leave, but she thought Aiden might still be there.

Unfortunately, the grounds were completely empty.

Soothing her disappointment, Psychke returned to her room.

The moment she saw the note on her desk, her expression stiffened.

 

“The eldest young master took it with him, saying there was something he needed to check.”

 

It was Melissa’s reply to the order to bring out the teapot before her meeting with Verndia.

 

‘Those were the tea leaves I gave you. What could there possibly be to check?’

 

Before her regression, this had never happened.

Even when she was locked in solitary confinement, Yzhar had brought her tea under the pretense of caring for his sick sister, and she had drunk it faithfully until the day she died.

Yzhar removed it the instant he noticed something odd.

 

‘Was it just a coincidence in timing? Or…?’

 

Psychke’s gaze drifted to the vase on her desk. It should have been filled with dead flowers, but it was completely empty.

Melissa wouldn’t have cleared it on her own. So, this must have been Yzhar’s doing as well.

 

‘I should’ve at least kept some of the leaves from the bottom of the cup.’

 

Or soaked some paper with the tea. All she had left now was the sharp taste and scent and the dizziness she’d felt whenever she drank it.

 

‘It can’t be helped.’

 

Regretting what couldn’t be undone was pointless.

She reassured herself that from now on, if anything seemed suspicious, she’d leave evidence behind.

In truth, even if she had the tea leaves and identified what they were, nothing would really change.

 

‘Even if I confronted him, he’d just say he didn’t know. It’s not like he’d feel sorry for poisoning me. And besides…’

 

She had drunk that tea consistently for over ten years.

The flowers dying suggested toxicity, but the fact that she was still alive meant it wasn’t a poison that killed outright.

Whether it could be detoxified easily aside, a priest could immediately tell whether poison had accumulated in her body and how much.

Resolving to visit the temple once tomorrow’s business was done, Psychke closed her eyes.

＊＊＊

Early the next morning.

 

“What kind of person is Lia, anyway? Isn’t she the woman who threatens to expose Your Grace’s secrets whenever she’s bored? And you’re saying you’ll meet someone like that together with the young lady?”

“Yes.”

“Up until now, you’ve only stirred up things I could clean up.”

 

In a corner of the Magic Association’s lobby, carpeted in red velvet, Isolet, the aide who looked ten years older from exhaustion, wore a grim expression.

 

“I’m telling you, I truly don’t know. Even if the young lady ends up holding something over Your Grace because of this, I really don’t.”

“Shh.”

 

Verndia cut him off with a nod of his chin.

From afar, a figure with gleaming silver hair pushed open the door.

Ignoring Isolet, who was clutching his chest in agitation, Verndia calmly approached his fiancée.

 

With a gentle smile, he spoke sweetly, “Seeing you first thing in the morning makes me think today will be a pleasant day.”

 

Psychke coldly stared at him. She had no intention of playing along of a fiancee who loves her fiance so much just how Verndia was the perfect lover and fiance in the eyes of others.

 

“Good morning.”

“Did you train with the sword yesterday as well?”

“Yes. I practice every day.”

“I’ve never heard from the head of the house or the young masters that you handle a sword.”

“They dislike me wielding one.”

 

As they spoke, a mage from the Association approached to guide them to Lia.

Walking after him, Verndia turned over Psychke’s odd remark in his mind.

 

‘Why would they dislike it?’

 

The Empire wasn’t truly equal between men and women, but female knights did exist and Silkisia was a family with a long tradition of swordsmanship. Yet the second son, Lenox, lacked talent, and even Yzhar, the eldest and future Duke of Silkisia, hadn’t secured a knight commander’s post at that age.

With clouds hanging over the family’s martial future, shouldn’t they have welcomed anyone whether blood-related or adopted, who wished to take up the sword?

 

‘No… there is one reason they wouldn’t.’

 

As he thought it through, one reason became clear.

 

‘If the despised fake lady turned out to be not merely comparable to their own son, but far superior—’

 

Just as his thoughts reached that point, the mage’s flat voice snapped him back.

 

“You may enter here.”

 

Instead of a door, a black curtain hung before the room. The two of them pushed the thick blackout curtain aside and stepped inside.

A girl who looked barely thirteen, with pink hair tied into cute twin braids, greeted them.

 

“Well, look who it is. Isn’t that the rude little brat?”

 

She sat behind a large dark-brown desk piled high with magical tools and documents. Beneath it, an emerald magic circle glowed and hummed.

 

Verndia snorted, “And who exactly are you calling a brat?”

“Oh? Then should I call you a milk-smelling kid instead?”

 

With a mocking smile, Lia waved her hand and summoned two chairs, then beckoned cheerfully to Psychke, who was standing there stiffly.

 

“Come on in, come on. Let’s see… your name was… Psychke Silkisia? You’re that Silkisia? Heh.”

 

Her emerald-green eyes gleamed as if she’d found something interesting.

 

She snapped her head toward Verndia and shot out sharply, “Our little brat’s got some skill, huh. Even landed himself an engagement with such a pretty young lady.”

“Stop spouting nonsense.”

 

At Verndia’s nod, Psychke stepped forward.

She was flustered by the mage’s childlike appearance, but her gaze and demeanor were unmistakably those of an adult, so polite speech came naturally.

 

“The reason I came today is…”

 

She asked for advice on ice-type magic that could be embedded into monsters’ wounds, and on how to deal with Asum, the mage-type monster.

Lia propped her chin on both hands, swinging her feet in the air. The moment Psychke finished speaking, she let out a long yawn.

 

“If you’re handling that, what is he doing then?”

She flicked her eyes toward Verndia, who replied gruffly, “That’s why I came with her.”

“You made the appointment yourself. Handle your own business instead of trailing after your fiancée all the time. Honestly, our little brat really is useless…”

“Do you have a solution to what she asked or not?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

 

The immediate answer made Psychke’s face brighten until the follow-up made it stiffen.

 

“For free?”

“I already paid. When I made the reservation.”

“That was the fee to meet me. If you want answers, you pay extra.”

 

It was unreasonable.

She had clearly stated her purpose when booking and had paid with receiving an answer in mind.

It wasn’t a small sum, and she was taken aback but the leverage was on their side.

Psychke was about to ask how much more, when Verndia spoke first.

 

“Fine. What else do you want?”

 

As if he’d expected this, his tone was weary.

Grinning, Lia plucked one parchment from the pile on her desk and tossed it to him.

 

“See? That’s why I like this brat, you make things very easy.”

 

It was the location of an illegal auction to be held outside the capital in two days.

 

“This time, that item is coming up. Bring it to me. And don’t send anyone else, do it yourself. It’s your business.”

 

It sounded like a request, but it was clearly a threat: no item, no answers.

Verndia grimaced. They already held each other’s weaknesses, yet indulging her only seemed to encourage more demands.

If only someone with the power of unmelting ice, capable of suppressing the inextinguishable flame in his heart existed, he wouldn’t be dragged around like this.

 

“That item being…?”

“The Keitan’s poison-needle necklace.”

“Hm? You said you weren’t going to look into that further after it failed..”

 

Verndia trailed off, his brow twitching. He swept a glance over Psychke, then spoke quietly so only Lia could hear.

 

“Is it really fine to talk about that in front of Silkisia?”

“Oh, right. Our dear girl is a Silkisia.”

 

Lia’s eyes widened as she silently mouthed words.

 

[Erase her memory with magic?]

[That’s not your specialty.]

[Then knock her out until she forgets.]

[Have you lost your mind?]

 

While they exchanged that silent dialogue, Psychke pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm herself.

Because of the words ‘poisoned-needle necklace’.

 

‘It can’t be the same one… right?’

 

Thinking of the object that had led her to death in her previous life made her hands tremble, failing to notice that Lia and Verndia was intently watching her.

Telling herself it couldn’t be, yet unable to shake her doubt, Psychke cautiously spoke.

 

“If it’s not rude to ask… may I know what that necklace looks like?”

“Huh?”

 

Lia’s eyes widened.

 

“You don’t know? It’s just an ordinary gold necklace. With a huge emerald set in it so big it’s almost tacky.”

“…!”

 

At the mention of a large emerald, Psychke’s ears rang.

It matched exactly what she knew. She sucked in a sharp breath and at the same moment, Lia’s green eyes narrowed like needles.

 

“What’s that reaction? Don’t tell me you actually know what that necklace is.”

 

Her voice dropped, far colder than when Lia called Psychke ‘dear’.  As if in response, the room’s temperature plummeted, like a frozen plain in the dead of winter.