Fakes Don’t Want To Be Real Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 

“D-Duke!” Hilvia stammered in panic.

 

It was common knowledge that Verndia, the Mad Dog of the North, despised gossip, so she hurried to explain herself.

 

“I-it wasn’t anything bad! We were just saying that you’ll soon be engaged to Lady Lillian.”

“Is that true?”

 

One young lady, who had been listening quietly, interjected without thinking.

Despite knowing Verndia’s foul temper, her curiosity had outweighed her fear.

 

“Why would you even ask that? Isn’t it obvious?”

Another young lady whispered as she jabbed her in the side, scolding her for asking such a thing, “Is it really that interesting?”

“Are you so curious about that?”

 

Verndia’s smile sharpened dangerously.

He looked like a beast poised before battle yet his dazzlingly handsome face made the young ladies blush and avert their eyes.

Only Psychke noticed his aide’s face turn as pale as flour. At last, the duke’s gaze settled on Psychke.

She met his eyes without flinching, her pale blue stare dry as a desert wind.

 

“Yes, I am curious.”

 

Until the day she drank poison and died half a year later, Verndia had never become engaged to Lillian.

She had never seen them together, but she had heard that whenever he met Lillian, he rebuffed her so harshly it embarrassed onlookers.

Even so, she asked because a faint hope lingered that perhaps this time, he might make a different choice.

If Verndia were to become engaged to Lillian, there would be no need for her to trouble herself with dealing with the northern monsters. She could leave the family at once.

Their gazes tangled midair.

 

Verndia studied her with an unreadable expression, then suddenly let out a soft laugh, “That will not happen.” And then, as if stating a simple fact, “My fiancée is you. Not Lady Lillian.”

 

As lovers might, he gently tucked a few strands of silver hair behind Psychke’s ear.

His long fingers, rough with calluses, brushed her skin. His body ran warmer than most, and the touch burned faintly, as though kissed by flame.

 

“That’s impossible!”

“Then the rumor was a lie?”

 

Near-screams erupted among the young ladies yet the person in question merely lowered her brows slightly in disappointment.

In public, he had always treated her like a man deeply in love.

So neither his words nor his actions surprised her. What saddened her was only that her hope for an early annulment had been dashed.

Seeing her expression, something subtle shifted on Verndia’s face.

 

“My Lady, shall we move elsewhere?”

 

There were too many eyes here to speak freely.

The thought of people daring to chatter behind his back when he wasn’t present made anger rise in his chest, but his curiosity about Psychke’s strange behavior outweighed it.

 

“Yes, as you wish.”

“Then come along.”

 

Unaware that his behavior might appear odd, Verndia wrapped an arm around Psychke’s shoulders and guided her away, almost pulling her into an embrace.

Relieved that things had not escalated, the aide followed after them with a quiet sigh.

 

“I’m so jealous…”

“Right? You have to admit, her luck is unreal.”

 

Left behind, the young ladies gazed at the duke’s devotion with envy-filled eyes.

Only Hilvia stood trembling, her fan shaking as she bit down hard on her lip.

***

Verndia and Psychke headed to a well-known tearoom. The moment they sat down, Verndia leaned toward his fiancée and lowered his voice so no one else could hear.

 

“You want to annul the engagement that badly?”

“Yes.”

 

So he hadn’t imagined that look earlier. Verndia frowned despite himself.

 

‘When I told her not to, she chased after me relentlessly.’

 

He held no affection for Psychke, but neither did he truly despise her, and that made the feeling all the more unsettling.

Alongside the Crown Prince, he was considered the Empire’s finest prospective groom. He has the looks, wealth, power, and lacking in nothing, so, this kind of cold rejection was new to him.

 

“Why?”

“Pardon?”

“Why do you want to annul the engagement?”

“I believe I mentioned it before. I need to remove the ring.”

“Is removing that ring more important than maintaining the engagement?”

“Yes.”

 

Her firm answer, as though the question weren’t even worth considering, made Verndia recall the ring’s effects.

 

‘Location tracking. Emotional sharing. Was there anything else?’

 

There wasn’t anything else than these two and she herself had willingly agreed to those two functions.

 

‘What kind of engagement ring even has such features?’

 

It was said to have been created by the first Duke of Lestir, who had lost his beloved in vain but why it continued to be passed down, Verndia never understood.

The one consolation was that unlike the unrestricted tracking, emotional sharing only activated when emotions grew intense enough to seize the entire body.

 

[“Your Grace, I’ll do my best, but… if our emotions do end up shared, please pretend you don’t notice. I beg you.”]

[“Very well.”]

 

Having ruled the ducal house alone since childhood, Verndia was adept at controlling surging emotions.

Yet Psychke’s feelings would occasionally bleed through, always sorrow and fear, nothing more.

Throughout their engagement, long or short as it was, those were the only emotions he ever received from her. Of course, it would be a lie if it didn’t bother him.

 

When Verndia fell silent, Psychke spoke instead, “You have no intention of becoming engaged to Lillian, then?”

“That’s correct.”

 

The air around Psychke visibly sank.

Her complexion darkened so much that Verndia almost wondered if he had misspoken and told her he would marry Lillian.

 

“I understand. I will cooperate fully in dealing with the northern monsters.”

 

After steadying her briefly shaken expression, Psychke lowered her gaze. The shadow of her long, thick lashes fell beneath her eyes.

 

“When should we sign the contract you mentioned yesterday?”

“….”

“Your Grace?”

 

Verndia frowned and replied curtly.

 

“Now.”

 

He disliked this situation yet could not understand why since the annulment was what he wanted as well.

She had even offered to assist with the northern monsters, whether true or not.

Everything was turning in his favor. And still, his mood soured inexplicably.

It was fortunate he had encountered Psychke and the young ladies right after taking his medicine; otherwise, sparks might have leapt from his fingertips in irritation.

Verndia gestured behind him. Isolet, who had been watching him anxiously, appeared with paper and a quill as if from nowhere.

 

“Sign here.”

 

Verndia quickly wrote out the terms, signed his name, and handed the contract over.

Psychke’s eyes traced the page from top to bottom.

The contents were simple.

 

“1. Psychke Silkisia will assist in eliminating the high-ranking monsters of the northern Lestir territory. In return, once the monsters are eradicated, her engagement to Verndia Lestir will be annulled.

2. Even if Psychke Silkisia provides no assistance, or only minimal assistance, once the monsters are eradicated, the engagement between Verndia Lestir and Psychke Silkisia will be annulled.

This contract cannot be revoked without mutual consent.”

 

The conditions weren’t bad because the engagement would be annulled as soon as the monsters disappeared, regardless of her contribution.

Without comment, Psychke signed where Verndia indicated.

Still frowning, Verndia looked down at her neat, rounded signature, then lifted his gaze slightly and spoke without warning.

 

“How long have you wielded a sword?”

 

The unfamiliar question caught her off guard. Psychke paused even after signing, then looked up at him.

 

“… Pardon?”

“I asked how long you’ve wielded a sword.”

 

She followed his gaze, hesitated briefly, then answered quietly.

 

“I’ve never counted, but I’d estimate over ten years.”

 

Verndia stared at her. No, at her hands, callused and blistered. From their condition, it looked as though she had held a sword even yesterday.

 

‘She uses a sword?’

 

Contrary to the rumors of her stupidity, he had already suspected she knew more than she let on, but swordsmanship too struck him as a shock.

Meanwhile, his unfamiliar yet heavy violet gaze made Psychke uneasy.

 

‘Why is he looking at me like that?’

 

She had been drilled since childhood that rough hands held no value for a lady, so she had always hidden them beneath gloves.

Now that she had decided to cast everything aside, she thought there was no point hiding but facing another’s reaction still stirred her heart slightly.

The moment she set the quill down, she slipped her hands beneath the table.

 

“I’m finished.”

“Ah, yes.”

 

Only then did Verndia come to his senses and gather the contract.

He prepared a second copy and handed it to Psychke.

And until she finished signing, he couldn’t take his eyes off her small hands.

 

“Your Grace.”

 

With the completed contract in hand, Psychke called to him softly.