Fakes Don’t Want To Be Real Chapter 25

Chapter 25

 

“Excuse me?”

“It seems there’s no reason for us to maintain our engagement any longer.”

 

Psychke said the words flatly, without emotion.

Now that she thought about it, it made sense. She had already explained to Verndia how to deal with the monsters, and any gaps would be handled through Lia’s commissions. Psychke herself was no longer needed.

 

“You can handle the monsters now without the support of the Imperial Knight Order,” she added.

 

Not needing the Knight Order meant he no longer had to watch the Emperor’s mood. Psychke’s comment had subtly hit its mark, and Verndia’s face betrayed his surprise.

 

After a pause, he replied deliberately, with a touch of brusqueness, “You won’t know until you try. I should at least have some insurance.”

“I see.”

 

Psychke’s eyebrows, crescent-shaped before, drooped now. Her disappointment was evident and seeing her like that, Verndia felt his heart tighten with unease.

 

‘This is maddening.’

 

He was perceptive enough to sense that, following the events at Silkisia Manor and their earlier conversation, Psychke intended to disappear somewhere once the engagement was broken. And if that happened, she wouldn’t even inform him of her whereabouts.

Unaware of his thoughts, Psychke pressed on.

 

“Then, would it be acceptable once the number of monsters is reduced to a controllable level?”

 

Verndia exhaled unconsciously.

Just a fortnight ago, she had been the one chasing him relentlessly, but now the roles had reversed in an instant.

 

“Let’s discuss that when the time comes,” he said reluctantly.

 

By the time they spoke, the carriage had already arrived at Lestir. As Psychke staggered from dizziness, Verndia caught her.

 

“Don’t be stubborn. Stay put until your condition improves. With your current state, finding a safe place on your own would be difficult enough.”

“Very well… I’ll stay for a few days,” she finally relented.

 

It was hard to continue refusing when the other party was so insistent and being somewhere secure was preferable to standing guard alone outside through the night.

Verndia extended a hand as they stepped down from the carriage. The unusually gentle escort felt awkward to Psychke, and she recoiled slightly before accepting it.

Verndia’s expression hardened again.

Even this small gesture caused her to flinch. It seemed he would have to find a way to ease her discomfort and encourage her to remain at the manor as long as possible.

***

Meanwhile, at that same time, the Duke of Silkisia was in a foul mood.

 

“Useless, utterly useless!”

 

Bang!

An ink bottle on the desk clattered against the door, splattering black ink across the expensive carpet.

 

“Verndia! Verndia!”

 

His breath came in harsh gasps, his rage enough to chew through bone itself.

A few hours earlier, he had received Yzhar’s report: Verndia had ruined everything. With urgency, he had stormed up to Psychke’s room and encountered the two just as they were leaving.

 

‘I’ll take the lady myself,’ the brat had declared.

 

Infuriating was the impertinence of this fledgling duke, asserting himself so stiffly despite his inexperience. Yet the threat he emanated had Verndia’s soldiers keeping their hands on their swords, leaving him to argue with words alone.

 

‘This is outright kidnapping!’

‘Kidnapping? I’m not forcing her to come, am I?’

‘That’s right, I’m leaving of my own will.’

“How dare you, without understanding your place!”

 

Bang!

In frustration, the duke slammed his fist onto the desk. He had given her everything she desired, even publicly acknowledging her as the true lady at the party. Yet now, things were going horribly wrong.

By all expectations, at Lillian’s return celebration, Psychke should have been overwhelmed with gratitude, tears of joy for not being expelled despite the real lady’s arrival.

But she had not.

It felt ominous.

He assumed she was simply shy or needed time to revert to her previous self, but it wasn’t so.

It had been his last chance to secure her compliance, and he hadn’t realized it.

Bang!

Once more, he struck the desk. Papers trembled, the crystal vase with yellow freesias wobbled dangerously.

He stared at the vase, thought better of it, and hurriedly sat down. Pulling a blank sheet of paper, he folded it horizontally three times and vertically twice, then bit his fingertip to draw blood.

Where the two lines intersected, he dabbed the blood, then folded again horizontally twice and vertically four times.

Creating a secret note for the Imperial Court, he pulled the string and summoned an attendant. Yzhar was called to deliver it.

The eldest son arrived promptly, neatly dressed.

 

“You called?”

“Deliver this.”

 

Yzhar knew exactly what his father had handed him, and yet he did not. He understood it was to be discreetly given to a court servant, but he did not know what would occur once delivered. Yet, as always, he obeyed faithfully.

 

“Understood.”

 

Outwardly, at least but he was conflicted inside. Never had he blindly trusted his father before. Now, jealous of Psychke’s natural talents and his father’s attention to her, he struggled with bitterness.

Bowing deeply, Yzhar’s black eyes held a sinister gleam, unnoticed by the duke, who sent him on his way without suspicion.

***

“D-Duke, with all due respect…”

 

Isolet spoke cautiously, casting a meaningful glance at Verndia.

 

“You haven’t… become involved with the lady, have you?”

“What?”

 

Verndia paused, adjusting his cravat, eyebrows raised at the absurdity.

 

“Based on… what exactly?”

 

Isolet fell silent as he could not bluntly say, “Based on what I’ve seen.”

 

Sneaking out at night for dawn walks, insisting on escorting her personally when a carriage would suffice, and now even allowing her to remain at the manor for some reason…

Well, whether his lord pursued romance or not was his own business. Verndia and love; a mismatched pairing like oil and water, would happen eventually. But he had never imagined it would be with the Lady of Silkisia.

 

“Do I look like someone with that much free time?”

 

Reading his expression, Verndia snapped irritably.

Isolet’s curiosity persisted.

 

“Then why are you so close to the lady if you’re about to break the engagement?”

“Hm.”

 

Verndia covered his mouth and sighed deeply, giving no verbal answer. Isolet, sensing something in his demeanor, narrowed her eyes.

 

“You’re not… mutually interested, are you—”

“…”

“— It can’t be. Of course not.”

 

Seeing Verndia’s fiercely predatory gaze, Isolet hurriedly changed his words. Still, the thought lingered: perhaps his lord was hopelessly infatuated.

 

“This is… going to be troublesome,” Verndia muttered in a low voice.

 

‘The duchess herself seems oblivious.’

 

Had she known the truth, she would never have treated the Silkisia household as family – they were her enemies.

 

‘But her behavior at Lia’s office…’

 

Now, knowing everything, Verndia could surmise the conversation between Psychke and Lia, likely about Silkisia’s unique abilities.

 

‘If someone unaware of the truth is already hiding and fearing this much, imagine what she could do…’

 

Somehow, it had allowed her to survive within the current Silkisia family.

 

‘But why did the Duke of Silkisia try to confine Psychke?’

 

She’s either a child nor a minor, yet he had gone so far as to involve soldiers for a single night’s absence. Silkisia was known as a strict opportunist; he never acted without gain.

 

‘Something’s definitely going on.’

 

Every question remained unanswered.

Verndia paced the room, lost in thought. Isolet, frustrated by his scolding tone, defended himself.

 

“I thought I said not to disturb me while I am thinking.”

“The physician you summoned has been waiting for thirty minutes,” Isolet replied.

 

Ah, time had flown.

He would have to leave now.

 

He paused, tapped his chin, then suddenly asked aloud, “What would women like?”

“Excuse me?”

 

Isolet froze at the out-of-the-blue question. Verndia, overlooking his expression as he gazed into the distance, repeated seriously,

 

“What would noble ladies like?”

“You don’t mean to give it to the lady–”

“Yes.”

 

This was insane.

Isolet was silently horrified that his guess was correct.