Fakes Don’t Want To Be Real

Author: Lioness Editor: Lioness

Chapter 23

At her answer, Verndia wiped the faint smile from his face. As he tapped the armrest as though lost in though, as if in passing, he casually asked her,

“Do you truly still feel nothing for me?”

The air inside the carriage grew heavy in an instant and Psychke answered by avoiding his gaze.

Verndia felt a dull ache spread through his head.

‘So her resolve to annul the engagement hasn’t changed.’

Now that he knew who she really was, he had wanted to watch her for a while longer. Yet instead of observing her, it seemed they would end things the moment he had room to breathe.

Frowning, Verndia brushed his bangs back from his forehead.

‘If only I hadn’t signed that damned contract.’

Why hadn’t he trusted her enough to leave it at words?

For the first time, his own thorough nature irritated him.

But there was no undoing what had already passed. Steadying his restless thoughts, he asked evenly,

“What is the fundamental reason you wish to remove the ring?”

“I don’t understand why that matters to you.”

“Let’s call it personal interest.”

Interest That is absurd.

Seeing through the obvious lie, Psychke looked at him coldly, wondering why he was acting this way when no one else was around.

An awkward silence followed, and Verndia cleared his throat.

“There was the matter at the auction. If there’s anything I can help with, I’d like to.”

“That isn’t something you can help with, Duke. You already took care of me when I collapsed. You needn’t concern yourself further.”

Her crisp tone left him with nothing more to say.

While Verndia wrestled inwardly, the carriage arrived at the Duke of Silkisia’s estate.

“Thank you for seeing me home. I’ll take my leave.”

As Psychke tried to step down without hesitation, Verndia stopped her. Despite her insisting she was fine, he got down first and escorted her anyway.

“Hey!”

It seemed Lenox had just returned from riding; he shouted loudly as he came out after stabling his horse.

Charging over with a riding crop in hand, he glared menacingly.

“Have you lost your mind? Are you sane?”

The furious Lenox didn’t even register the duke’s incredulous look at being addressed as ‘you.’

With rough movements, Lenox grabbed Psychke by the shoulders and shook her.

“Who said you could stay out overnight?”

“Let go.”

“Do you know how angry Father was? What, are you that anxious now that Sister’s back? Afraid you’ll be thrown out, so you trail after men like that?”

“Let go, I said!”

Already dizzy, being shaken made her vision swim.

Suppressing the nausea rising in her throat, Psychke tried to knock his arm away but someone moved faster.

“I really don’t know why Father ever tolerated the likes of you. Useless trash, he should’ve dumped you on the street long ago– Aaargh!”

“By the sound of it, your words seem rather excessive.”

Verndia, his face hard with fury, seized Lenox’s wrist.

Because Yzhar had strictly kept such behavior from spilling outside, this was the first time Verndia had seen Lenox act like a brute toward Psychke.

And he thought,

‘What kind of lunatic is this?’

He hadn’t even used much force, yet Lenox’s face flushed crimson with pain.

“L-let go! Please—aaagh!”

“Please stop, Duke!”

Psychke cried out ot out of concern for Lenox, but fearing that the noise might draw the Duke of Silkisia or Yzhar outside.

With Aiden’s fate still unknown, provoking them would do no good.

Unmoved by Lenox’s struggling, Verndia released him the instant Psychke spoke, flinging his wrist aside as though it were filthy trash. Then, as she staggered with sudden dizziness, he supported her as if pulling her into an embrace.

Clutching his swollen wrist, Lenox screamed at the top of his lungs.

“I’ll tell Father!”

“Then I suppose I should tell him as well. Ask whether someone who treats the sick this way truly deserves to be called a noble raised in Silkisia.”

“Sick? Who, her?”

Lenox snarled, as if the idea were ridiculous.

“You think this is the first time? She does this every time she wants attention, groaning and staggering—who wouldn’t call that fake—”

“Did a doctor say that?”

“Why would we call a doctor? It’s obviously an act.”

“Are you planning to rest here, Lady Psychke?”

Ignoring Lenox, with whom conversation was impossible, Verndia asked grimly.

Psychke was about to answer when Lenox cut in angrily.

“You should come to your senses too, Duke!”

“Are you lecturing me?”

“I’m informing you. She does this whenever she wants attention. I’ve seen it countless times—”

“Your interest doesn’t strike me as particularly valuable,” Verndia interrupted coolly. “You’re neither head nor heir, merely the second son.”

In an instant, Lenox’s ears burned red.

Verndia looked down on him with open scorn.

“An inflated sense of self, young master.”

“What’s all this noise about?”

At that moment, a flat voice cut through the heated air.

Lenox turned toward the sound and whined, “Brother!”

“Is that not the Duke of Lestir?”

Yzhar approached slowly, immaculate in his uniform, every button fastened to the neck despite the warm spring weather.

As always, he exuded an oppressive presence.

When he drew near, Yzhar fixed his cold black eyes solely on Psychke and Verndia, not sparing even a glance for the brother calling out to him.

Lenox, however, scurried behind him as if he’d found a savior, complaining that his wrist had been crushed.

“Help me, Brother!”

“Tch.”

Verndia almost laughed at behavior so unfitting for Lenox’s age and build but stopped short, which seemed to irritate Yzhar.

“I didn’t realize you were such a ruffian, Duke.”

“A ruffian? I’ll take that as a compliment, better than being called a mad dog.”

“If you’re finished, it would be best for you to leave.”

His tone icy, Yzhar grabbed Psychke by the wrist.

“Come. Father is waiting.”

“What about Aiden?”

“We’ll discuss it inside.”

“No, tell me here.”

“Inside.”

There were eyes on them.

As he spoke, Yzhar flicked a glance at Verndia, making it clear he didn’t want family matters aired before outsiders.

Psychke, however, shook off his hand coldly.

“Speak here. I won’t go in until you tell me.”

Yzhar looked down at her rigid stance with irritation, then turned his head away.

“And when do you plan to leave, Duke?”

“Well, I was going to but this seems entertaining.”

Verndia smiled faintly, his amethyst eyes gleaming.

At his clear refusal to leave before the conversation ended, displeasure crossed Yzhar’s face.

“This is a matter of Silkisia. It would be best if you didn’t listen.”

“It also concerns my beloved fiancée.”

“Before she is your fiancée, she is a lady of Silkisia.”

“Don’t bother dancing around it,” Verndia said mockingly. “You simply don’t like me listening.”

“Lady Psychke– who is Aiden?”

“He was a soldier assigned to escort me yesterday.”

“A mere soldier.”

Feigning thoughtfulness, Verndia tapped his chin, a playful smile on his face.

“For a common soldier’s matter to count as a family affair… are you having an affair with him, my lady?”

“Of course not.”

“Then how does a soldier’s issue become a family issue? Silkisia never struck me as a house that treasures its soldiers to that extent.”

Unable to refute the point, Yzhar’s brow twisted. Verndia pressed him relentlessly, his expression deceptively mild.

“Or perhaps you’re simply disregarding me, her fiancé, to the point where even trivial matters aren’t worth my hearing.”

“This won’t benefit you either, Duke.”

Barely suppressing his anger, Yzhar warned him as if to tell that if Verndia wanted the knight order’s support, he should stop interfering.

“I have a weakness for anything interesting.”

Verndia replied lightly, refusing to yield.

In truth, having already heard Psychke’s plan to deal with the high-ranking monsters, he had little need for the imperial knights.

Yzhar exhaled sharply, anger reaching its peak.

“… Hah.”

If not for the Duke of Lestir, he would have dragged her inside by force. But who knew what rumors that accursed duke might spread through high society?

There was no choice.

Yzhar gave Psychke the answer she wanted.

“I dismissed him.”

Psychke’s eyes widened.

She had been warned it might happen but not today, and not because of her.

As her already frail condition worsened rapidly, the faint warmth in her body drained away, turning ice-cold.

Yet Yzhar’s expression didn’t change in the slightest.

“No matter how skilled he is, a soldier who disobeys his master has no place here.”

“…”

“That’s enough, come inside. Father is waiting.”

He turned away as he finished speaking. Lenox shook his fist as if to say just you wait.

Psychke clenched her teeth.