Fakes Don’t Want To Be Real Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 

Psychke opened her eyes with effort. She must have finally fallen asleep after sweating through the night yet morning had already come.

On her desk sat a cup of tea gone cold and a single letter. Her blue eyes drifted to the surface of the tea, her face was faintly reflected in the brown liquid.

She stared at it for a long while, then poured it out into the flower vase without taking a sip.

Her headache was severe, but she no longer wished to accept anything from this household without giving something in return.

Next, she picked up the letter. She broke the imperial seal, golden lion over a shield and unfolded the contents.

It was an invitation to the Second Prince’s coming-of-age banquet, to be held in a few months, extending to all nobles of the Empire.

 

‘I couldn’t attend last time.’

 

The night before the banquet, someone had shredded her dress beyond repair.

Psychke suspected it had been the work of a servant who resented her for not giving up hope even after the real duke’s daughter had returned.

Yzhar, who valued the family’s prestige above all else, would never defy an imperial command by excluding her.

Lenox, on the other hand, was the sort who would sooner break an arm or a leg with a club than go through the trouble of tearing a dress.

 

‘And it wouldn’t have been Lillian. If the fake attends, the real one shines all the brighter.’

 

In any case, Psychke had no intention of attending the banquet this time either. The social circle was full of people who took pleasure in tearing down an unacknowledged duke’s daughter.

Rather than inviting scorn, it was far more rational and profitable to carry out what she had promised Duke Verndia.

Her family, however, seemed to think otherwise.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

 

Just as she stepped out in her outdoor clothes, Psychke ran into Yzhar, already prepared to leave as well.

Behind him stood Lillian and Melissa, dressed identically.

From the look of it, Melissa had firmly established herself as Lillian’s personal maid.

 

“I have somewhere to be.”

 

As long as she did nothing to tarnish the family’s name, Yzhar rarely interfered in what she did. At most, he would attach a so-called escort, little more than a watchdog, to prevent trouble.

She assumed this time would be no different.

 

“Didn’t the butler tell you?”

 

Yzhar frowned, irritation flickering in his pitch-black eyes.

The butler must have delivered the message while she slept and left without waiting, so Psychke answered calmly.

 

“He didn’t.”

“That’s strange. He said he informed you as well.”

“About what?”

“We’re having outfits made for His Highness’s banquet.”

“I see.”

 

She wondered if he was feeling generous now that she had agreed to yield everything to Lillian, perhaps even willing to buy her a new dress. Psychke had no intention to attend the banquet so it’s pointless.

If she simply wasn’t at the estate when the tailor arrived, that would be that.

 

With that in mind, she asked casually, “What time is the tailor coming?”

“We’re going ourselves.”

“… What?”

“To show Lillian around and to have her greet people.”

 

At the suggestion that she walk the capital’s bustling streets in broad daylight alongside the real duke’s daughter, Psychke blanked out for a moment.

She couldn’t understand why a man so obsessed with appearances would create such a situation.

 

“I’d planned to go with just Lillian, but she asked that you and Lenox come as well. Be grateful.”

Behind Yzhar, Lillian silently mouthed,  “You looked unwell yesterday, so I thought we could get some fresh air together, then smiled brightly.”

 

Truly, every time she was with Lillian, Psychke found herself at a loss for words.

She stared at Lillian with her lips slightly parted, then licked her dry mouth and addressed Yzhar, who was clearly waiting for thanks.

 

“I appreciate the consideration, but I don’t need a new dress. What I already have is more than sufficient.”

“It’s not about getting new dress. Rather than that, it’s a family outing.”

 

At those sincere words, Psychke understood.

Yzhar cared less about the trouble that might arise from the two duke’s daughters appearing together than about displaying a harmonious ducal family, even after the real one had returned.

At the same time, he could boast of a magnanimous house that did not cast out its now-useless fake daughter.

 

‘I thought I’d already let go of everything.’

 

The realization that he saw her not as a person but as a tool made her throat tighten.

Psychke murmured, her voice trembling,

“I’m sorry. I have something urgent to take care of.”

“More important than harmony within the family?”

“Yes.”

 

Yzhar’s expression hardened at this rare defiance from his usually compliant younger sister.

 

Then, like a parent scolding a misbehaving child, he spoke sharply, “Psychke.”

 

But Psychke said nothing, it was her refusal.

Annoying though she might be, she had always known her place; a fake who moved as instructed, nothing more, nothing less.

For that subordinate sister to reject him outright offended Yzhar deeply.

He arrogantly looked down at her, a part of him wanting to discipline her on the spot. But with Lillian behind him and Lenox waiting on the first floor, he restrained himself.

In the end, he decided to yield, for now.

 

“Come to Madam Belle’s boutique once you’re finished.”

 

Psychke bowed silently.

She did not lift her head until the rhythmic footsteps echoing down the corridor faded away.

No matter what happened, no matter the price, she would never again obey the words of the people in this house.

***

She waited until the carriage carrying her siblings disappeared into the distance before leaving the estate. Yzhar didn’t assign her any escort so he must have been upset. But it was only comfort for Psychke.

She headed straight for the Magic Association.

To learn what kind of ice magic could be embedded into monsters’ wounds and to seek advice on how best to deal with the mage-type monster, Asum.

Unfortunately, she was unable to meet a mage.

The ice-attribute mage who could answer her questions was away. Apparently, representatives of each elemental school gathered from across the land once every half-year, and it happened to be this week.

It was indeed disappointing, but she could do nothing about it.

After making a reservation, Psychke turned toward a jewelry shop instead. She wanted to see moonstone with her own eyes, not just in books.

Once again, however, she failed to reach her goal.

Just as she was about to arrive, a group of noble ladies appeared out of nowhere and surrounded her.

 

“Well, well, look who it is. Isn’t that the duke’s daughter?”

 

The person blocking her was Lady Hilvia Ashlant. She has ash-gray falling to the chest, with eyes like melted amber. She was also the same woman who had tormented her the most in the high society.

Hilvia’s eyes gleamed like a fox spotting prey then covered her mouth with a fan and smiled slyly.

The girls trailing after her giggled and chimed in.

 

“Everyone else is at the boutique. Why are you all alone here?”

“Oh my, don’t say it like that. Perhaps the young lady didn’t know.”

“Or maybe she came out looking for her family?”

 

Psychke swept her gaze indifferently over the sneering faces, then let out a small sigh no one could hear and turned away, intending to leave.

 

“Are you ignoring us?”

 

Annoyed that she hadn’t gotten the reaction she wanted, Hilvia stepped in her way.

Psychke looked straight at her – her pale blue eyes that had once been filled with sorrow, anxiety, and yearning were utterly calm.

 

“Yes.”

“Haah, then why didn’t you even say- what?”

“I said I’m ignoring you.”

 

Leaving the frozen Hilvia behind, Psychke stepped forward but the other ladies hurriedly moved to block her.

 

“My, you don’t look it, but aren’t you terribly rude?”

“How can you say something like that to someone’s face?”

 

Even a moment spent on them felt like a waste so she ignored them and resumed walking. But then Hilvia’s shrill, venom-laced shout forced her to stop.

 

“With manners like that, no wonder people say Duke Verndia is breaking off the engagement!”

 

Had Hilvia been spreading rumors?

Psychke’s wavering gaze returned to Hilvia. When surprise flickered across her usually blank face, Hilvia’s eyes curved cruelly.

 

“Oh dear, you didn’t know? How pitiful. Everyone’s saying the duke will soon take a new fiancée. Still, getting engaged while knowing you were a fake daughter in the first place was quite something of him.”

 

At the words ‘new fiancée’, Psychke’s expression shifted subtly.

It wasn’t anger, despair, or grief. If anything, it leaned closer to relief. But unaware of this, the marquess’s daughter curled her lips viciously and stepped closer, tapping Psychke’s chest with the tip of her fan.

 

“Do you understand? You’re finished now. Once Lady Lillian and Duke Verndia are engaged, that shameless face of yours—”

“Who said who is getting engaged to whom?”

 

A man’s voice suddenly came from behind Psychke.

Both women recognized it instantly and looked up at once.

 

“You seem to be sharing some very entertaining stories,” he said with a beautiful smile. “I’d love to hear them myself.”

 

There stood Duke Verndia, smiling serenely.

 

And beside him was Isolet, pale as death, muttering desperately, “The people of the territory… the people of the territory…”