Fakes Don’t Want To Be Real Chapter 26

Chapter 26

 

＊＊＊

Around that time, Psychke, perched on the edge of the guest room bed at the Lestir Duke’s residence, unfolded the note Aiden had left.

 

‘He must have been in such a rush being kicked out… yet he managed to do this.’

 

Perhaps he had asked one of the servants who admired him to deliver it, because it had been neatly folded on her desk in her room.

The message was short.

 

[]Just the 14th for the date.’]

 

Perhaps written vaguely to avoid prying eyes, but Psychke understood immediately.

 

‘He wants to meet me in that alley tomorrow night.’

 

Though her body wasn’t fully well, she felt she should go. After resting, she might feel even better.

 

‘I hope he didn’t get beaten for failing to escort me.’

 

Yzhar oversaw Silkisia’s personal soldiers and treated them like emotionless tools.

It was slightly concerning that Aiden’s surname was Hillaise, but considering the kindness he had shown her, Psychke couldn’t ignore it. She fidgeted with the edge of the note.

At that moment, a knock sounded.

 

“My lad—”

“Please, come in.”

 

Psychke spoke before the visitor had even finished. Normally impolite, she had simply forgotten where she was while lost in thought.

The visitor paused, seemingly taken aback, then the door opened. Seeing two men enter, Psychke realized she wasn’t at Silkisia’s residence.

As she tried to rise from the bed, Verndia stopped her and gestured to the man behind him.

 

The man bowed, “I am the Lestir family’s personal physician. It’s an honor to meet you, my lady,” she replied politely.

“Hello,” Psychke answered, formal but curious.

 

‘Why is Lestir’s personal physician here?’

 

The physician asked sincerely, “I’ve heard you have a chronic condition. May I ask what it is?”

 

Psychke closed her parted lips.

She hadn’t expected a doctor to accompany her along with the room. The sudden kindness left her momentarily speechless. She turned her gaze, and Verndia furrowed his brows.

 

“If it’s uncomfortable for you, I won’t demand treatment. Just speak quickly.”

 

Ah, so it wasn’t concern, just a push to get better and leave. Psychke resolved to depart as soon as her condition improved.

 

“No, it’s fine. Please stay,” she said briefly, then looked back at the physician and, after a moment’s thought, lied calmly. “I’m not exactly sure. I sometimes get headaches for no apparent reason.”

 

They were intense enough to be unbearable. Others had always told her it wasn’t a real illness, that she was fine but overly sensitive. So she had only ever drunk the tea Yzhar sent, taking no other measures.

 

“Then, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll examine you,” said the physician.

 

He studied her carefully, his thorough examination taking quite some time. Psychke began to tense as his expression grew more serious, fearing her lie might be discovered. Then the Lestir physician said something odd.

 

“Hmm, your constitution is very similar to His Grace’s. Do you happen to take anything in common?”

“My constitution?”

“I feel something clustered throughout your body. Something like a foreign substance.”

 

Verndia’s expression shifted. He seemed to recognize a secret that could not easily be spoken. The physician, unaware, continued.

 

“I’ve mentioned to His Grace before, these clusters usually build up from certain foods. Do you consume anything special besides meals?”

“No.”

“How peculiar. The heat you’re feeling now is caused by this substance. It obstructs the flow in your body.”

 

The more he explained, the stranger Verndia’s expression became.

 

“You could take the same remedy as His Grace, but the clusters are larger and denser here. Give me some time; I can increase the concentration and prepare it anew.”

 

Psychke frowned.

She had only lied, but did she really have an illness?

As she debated telling the truth, Verndia, still serious, interrupted before she could speak. He dismissed the physician and spoke before she could respond, his words coming rapidly with excitement.

 

“Have you really taken nothing else besides meals? Or perhaps the same substance consistently for years?”

 

Psychke paused.

As Verndia suggested, she had been taking something daily for years without fail.

 

“ A tea.”

“Tea?”

“Brother Yzhar has sent me tea every morning. It’s been the same kind for over ten years. That must be the problem.”

 

Verndia smirked, finally understanding why the lady had collapsed. The medicine Lia had made was effective, but with one side effect.

 

‘The power that suppresses the flame doesn’t stay confined to the heart.’

 

It traveled through the bloodstream and gathered in certain spots; the foreign substance the physician mentioned. It made it hard to fully use her abilities.

So Verndia had been giving her both Lia’s medicine and the physician’s, quietly.

 

‘I had to take it to suppress the flames, but Silkisia’s ice doesn’t need such suppression.’

 

And the fact it had been given secretly for over ten years meant…

 

‘They’ve been deliberately preventing her powers from manifesting.’

 

Verndia let out a short exclamation.

 

‘That’s why they tried to confine her in the mansion.’

 

Why they chose confinement over death was unclear, and perhaps Silkisia’s people knew the truth but Lenox and Lillian probably did not. Their behavior toward Psychke fit that perfectly.

Though Yzhar had sent the tea, something about it was ambiguous. Verndia, however, seemed fully aware.

Just then, a questioning voice interrupted him.

 

“That tea was meant to ease the headaches.”

 

Psychke looked confused.

The timeline didn’t add up; the headaches had existed before the tea.

Verndia was about to explain, then paused. When a dormant ability awakens, the body struggles to adapt, causing pain.

 

‘To explain that…’

 

He finally spoke, “Psychke, do you know what Silkisia’s ability is?”

“Isn’t it ice that doesn’t melt?”

 

A sudden question, seemingly basic knowledge for any Imperial citizen. Psychke frowned.

Verndia, equally puzzled, stared at her.

 

“Did you know?”

“Is there anyone who doesn’t?”

“You were pretending not to know all along?”

“Pretending?” Psychke asked, genuinely confused.

 

Frustrated, Verndia wondered whether she truly didn’t know or was protecting herself by feigning ignorance.

 

‘If it’s the latter, we shouldn’t touch her weaknesses.’

 

Wiping his face with one hand, he finally spoke.

 

“I only learned through the auction, not any investigation, so don’t misunderstand. The truth is, you’re Leas’s daughter—”

 

Caw!

A sudden crow’s cry swallowed his words. Both turned toward the window. Outside, under the clouded moon, a crow with yellow eyes pecked at the glass.

Verndia frowned slightly, opening the window. The crow flew onto his arm, rubbing its beak shyly, almost like a pet and Psychke couldn’t take her eyes off it.

 

‘Most noble pets are brightly colored, not black like this.’

 

Muttering to himself, Verndia said, “I told you to wait. Why are you here?”

 

As if understanding, the crow spread its wings and cawed loudly and Verndia’s expression grew cold.

 

‘The duke… to the royal family?’

 

He seemed about to say more but snapped his mouth shut, realizing Psychke was nearby.

 

“It’s late; you should rest now.”

 

Like someone with urgent business, he left in a hurry, leaving the window open. Psychke closed it and drew the curtains, suddenly struck by a sense of déjà vu. She felt she had seen this bird before.

＊＊

A few days later, in the morning, Psychke began preparing to go out.

Last night she had worried whether she would fully recover, but now she felt light and able to leave.

She wasn’t completely healed, but she could manage to go out. Thanks to the Lestir physician assigned by Verndia.

 

‘Take this once a day for about a month, and almost all the accumulated foreign substance will disappear.’

 

The physician who had visited a few hours earlier looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, but satisfied.

Psychke asked hesitantly,

 

‘Does this mean the headaches will go away too?’

‘Of course.’

 

Pain she had carried for over ten years.

Could it really be so easily cured?

She took the medicine, eyes widening in surprise. The substance that had built up seemed to melt away, her nausea subsided, her body felt light, and her throbbing head cooled as if an ice pack had been applied.

 

The physician asked carefully,

 

“How do you feel?”

“Much better. Thank you.”

 

She bowed, then went straight to Verndia to express her gratitude and inform him that she would depart immediately.

In the hallway, a Lestir butler informed her, “The Duke is not here.” She returned to her room to finish preparations.

Just as she was about to leave, Isolet arrived, chasing after her like she was assisting Verndia.

 

“May I ask where you are going?”

“My body feels better, so I thought I could go out and see if there’s somewhere suitable to stay.”

 

Startled, Isolet stopped, then hastily blocked her path.

 

“Oh, no! You can’t go!”