Fakes Don’t Want To Be Real Chapter 2

Chapter 2 

 

The Duke of Silkisia, famed for peerless swordsmanship and beautiful silver hair – had three heirs.

The eldest, Yzhar Silkisia, was a swordsman prodigy. He served as vice-commander of Ikasha, one of the two imperial knightly orders, and was hailed as a talent who, given another twenty years, might well ascend to the rank of Swordmaster.

The second son, Lenox Silkisia, was brilliant of mind.

Though his swordsmanship did not rival Yzhar’s and he had yet to undergo his coming-of-age ceremony, he was already renowned for his eloquence and keen judgment in the Noble Assembly, often leaving veteran aristocrats astonished.

By contrast from them, Psychke Silkisia was considered hopeless. Psychke was taken in by Duke Silkisia out of pity after she lost of her parents young, and wandered the streets.

If she had been as capable as Yzhar or Lenox, her position had been secure even if she was an adopted daughter.  But regrettably, though she bore the Silkisia looks to perfection, she did not share their talent within.

She had no aptitude for swordsmanship, nor was she especially clever.

She was forever stirring up trouble, and each time Yzhar or Lenox would clean up after her.

Psychke Silkisia’s only merit was being adopted into such a great house.

And yet, who could have known?

That the one opponent Yzhar had never once defeated with the sword was Psychke, or that the person Lenox sought out for information before entering council sessions was her.

 

“I suppose this wasn’t heaven after all considering nothing has changed.”

 

Psychke murmured absently as she skimmed through the vicious rumors about herself printed in a gossip sheet.

Her palm still bore wounds from which blood slowly seeped. They were the marks she made by cutting herself with a knife, just to distinguish reality from illusion.

 

“Its not an illusion either.”

 

As she clenched and unclenched her hand, fresh red welled up along the cuts. If this were a dream, it wouldn’t hurt so vividly. T

hen that left only one possibility…

 

“Even gods make mistakes.”

 

The Empire had a legend passed down since its founding.

That those blessed by Vicente, the God of Fate, might be granted another chance if they died before their destined lifespan.

It was no more than a legend; something that had never truly happened. But regardless of rank, people prayed at the temple for blessings whenever a child was born.

 

‘Could it be that legend has come true?’

 

After long contemplation yielded no answer, Psychke settled on that conclusion.

 

“To bestow a blessing on something fake…”

 

Startled by the word that slipped out, she soon let out a bitter, self-mocking smile.

 

[‘Only the Silkisia would ever take in someone like you.’]

 

Her father’s words on the day she received the Silkisia name and as if to prove them true, the world had never been kind.

Wherever she went, the label ‘fake’ followed her. It was enough for the people to point fingers, accuse her of overstepping her place even though her only crime was being adopted and yet that was enough.

Terrified that Silkisia will abandoned, she struggled to be useful and be acknowledged one of them.

And in doing so, she surpassed Yzhar and Lenox, the true Silkisia.

 

[No matter what, you must never be better than those children.]

 

She had thought he would be pleased but her father had been displeased, saying it would tarnish the great name of Silkisia thus, hiding her talent, playing as though she was a fool. She endured countless misunderstandings and insults, but that was fine.

Soon, when concealing her abilities became too heavy a burden, she realized something.

 

[If I can’t be better than them, then I can make them better instead.]

 

So she became their stepping stone, quietly filling in what they lacked.

 

[You’re doing well.]

 

The first time her father praised her, she glimpsed hope.

 

[If I continue like this, perhaps I’ll be recognized and loved as a true Silkicia.]

 

And then,

 

[The young lady has returned!]

 

A fake was never destined to be real.

What she had never received no matter how hard she tried were received by Lillian who  simply breathed. And yet, even watching that, Psychke couldn’t bring herself to leave Silkisia.

 

[Do you truly think there’s anywhere else that would take someone like you?]

 

Psychke knew there was nowhere and no one. Her days of quiet agony followed one after another. Still, believing this was the only place she belonged, she endured.

And after living like that – she died, absurdly, meaninglessly.

 

“I was stupid.”

 

Only when it was far too late did she realize she had been thoroughly used as a tool.

A lightless cell and death itself were the price of that lesson.

Yet no matter how many times she turned her life over in her mind, she still couldn’t understand why her father had discarded her.

Even if the real one returned, her usefulness shouldn’t have simply vanished.

 

‘Well, it doesn’t matter.’

 

Pulling herself from her thoughts, Psychke brushed her fingers over the date printed on the gossip sheet. It was dated six months before her death.

 

‘Why did it have to be today?’

 

Today was a day she could never forget.

Because,

 

Bang!

 

“Young lady!”

 

As she always did, Melissa burst the door open without knocking.

Her face was flushed as if she had run all the way here, her breath ragged, one ear wrapped thickly in bandages.

 

“Did you hear?”

 

It was no illusion, the way she spoke was practically saying, ‘It’s over for you’.

After catching her breath, Melissa crooked one corner of her mouth upward.

 

“Lady Lillian has returned!”

 

Though she had lived through this once before, Psychke couldn’t think of what to say. She simply closed her eyes slowly, then opened them again.

***

The mansion lobby, where Melissa led her, had become a sea of tears.

 

“Waaah. Sister, sister…”

 

Lenox was clutching the returned Lillian, sobbing openly. The servants surrounding them were little different.

 

“You must have suffered so much!”

“It’s thanks to the heavens!”

“No, it’s all thanks to Vicente.”

 

Each time the servants cried out, the priest who had come with Lillian corrected them. On his robes was embroidered a freesia; the symbol of the God of Fate.

Though Lillian had been declared dead, the Duke of Silkisia had never abandoned hope that his daughter might return alive. He had left hair and blood at the temple, asking that if a woman claiming to be Lillian appeared, she would be tested.

 

“It is a perfect match. This woman is without doubt Lady Lillian Silkisia.”

 

At the priest’s unwavering declaration, the crying grew even louder. From behind a pillar some distance away, Psychke watched the scene in silence.

Melissa, as if mocking her, puckered her lips before scampering over to join them.

 

“My lady! Do you remember me? I am Melissa!”

 

Lillian had been only three years old when she disappeared. So, there was no way she could remembered. But clearly, this was nothing more than a foolish attempt to show how close she was to the ‘real’ young lady.

Psychke couldn’t hear what Lillian replied from where she stood.

Instead, she heard another servant raise their voice.

 

“What about Lady Psychke?”

“Over there.”

 

At Melissa’s pointing finger, every gaze in the lobby turned to one place.

Only the priest looked on with pity while everyone else regarded her with cold eyes.

A gaze that once pierced her heart now felt strangely distant like a foreign object lodged where it didn’t belong.  Psychke took one step, then another, until she stood before Lillian, who was also watching her.

The servants parted like a divided sea, faces alight with curiosity over what Psychke might do.

She gazed quietly at the woman worn thin by hardship and grime.

The lustrous silver hair cascading to her waist and her blue eyes, clear as a lake.

All unchanged from the past.

Silence fell.

 

“Lillian.”

 

Psychke disturbed the stillness.

Lillian flinched, clutching at her empty chest. Tears welled in her large eyes, as if she might burst into tears at any moment.

 

“What are you trying to do now?”

 

Lenox bristled at her side.

 

As always, before he could hurl abuse and insults, Psychke spoke softly.

 

“Welcome back.”

“… What?”

 

Murmurs rippled through the servants, surprised by her composure.

Ignoring them, Psychke continued.

 

“It may be inconvenient, but please wait a few days. I’ll have the young lady’s room cleared out soon. In the meantime, you might think about how you’d like it redecorated.”

 

Lillian’s eyes widened, stunned that Psychke would so readily relinquish her position.

 

Lenox, who had been glaring daggers at Psychke until then, snapped, “What kind of trick is this?”

“A trick?”

“You think acting like this will make it impossible to throw you out out of pity—”

“Do as you please.”

 

At the change in the sister who used to turn pale and tremble at the mere mention of being cast out, Lenox scowled.

 

“What?”

“If Father or Brother Yzhar were here, they would have assigned a dedicated maid. Until they return, I’d like Melissa to attend to you. Can you do that, Melissa?”

 

It was an order from the fake young lady she had always ignored but with the real young lady involved, Melissa couldn’t refuse outright.

After she nodded awkwardly, Psychke turned her back.

 

“He-hey!”

 

Lenox shouted in anger at being ignored, but Psychke didn’t respond. Lenox did not pursue Psychke any further even after she disappeared around the corner and out of sight. Perhaps he didn’t want to show his sister an ugly side of himself after so long.

 

“… Haah.”

 

Her chest felt tight.

Only then did Psychke finally let out the breath she had buried deep within.

***

That night, Yzhar knocked on her door. Psychke, packing her belongings alone to vacate the room, merely blinked.

Only after the third knock did she speak, her voice barely audible.

 

“Come in.”

 

Yzhar entered the room still dressed in his formal attire so he might have come straight from the palace. His gaze swept the room, and a moment later, surprise flickered across them.

 

“So it’s true. Have you finally grown up?”

 

If he were a real brother, he would have worried over his heartbroken sister and not spoken so coldly.

An ordinary person might have been deeply hurt, but Psychke calmly continued packing as she replied.

 

“I’m simply returning things to their rightful owner.”

“Use a room on the second floor. I’ll inform Father.”

 

A room on the second floor meant a guest room.

 

“I understand.”

 

Her lack of reaction even to being treated as a guest made Yzhar twitch an eyebrow.

But Psychke, with her back turned, did not see it.

Where she stayed no longer mattered. This time, she would not repeat the same mistake for she intended to leave this family behind.