I Ran Away And The Reverse Harem Started Chapter 78

“…What?”

“You share the same surname as the village where my family—my younger sister and I—lived for three years. And your hair… it’s the same red as hers.”

I stared at Yvette in shock.

“But Lady Büllossen, your mother is blonde. I know because I happened to see her once.”

“Yes, that’s correct. My father is also blonde. But my sister inherited our grandmother’s red hair.”

“I see…”

“And her eyes, too…”

Yvette trailed off, silently studying my face.

Under her piercing, unwavering gaze, I swallowed hard, unable to say a word.

But then, the fixation in her eyes dimmed just as quickly as it had flared.

With a weary shake of her head, she sighed.

“That’s why your presence makes my already difficult life even more unbearable. It feels as though the gods are testing me.”

“…….”

“I’ve come to accept it now. There may be countless people in this world who resemble my sister, but she no longer exists in this world.”

“…….”

“The same goes for you. You do bear some similarities to my sister. But you are not her. I spent over a decade scouring the kingdom for her, overturning every stone, yet she never appeared.”

“…….”

“That can only mean one thing—that she met her end at the hands of her kidnapper. I avoided facing this truth for nearly twenty years…”

Yvette paused, gathering herself.

“But now, as the head of the Büllossen Trading Company, as the eldest daughter responsible for leading my family, I must stop searching for her. I need to focus on the present. I can’t keep clinging to the past forever.”

A bitter smirk curled on her lips.

It didn’t seem like she was truly making this decision of her own will.

Of course. She had spent over a decade relentlessly searching every corner of the kingdom—even scouring orphanages hidden deep in the mountains.

And despite all that, her sister had never been found.

It was impossible for her to suddenly reappear now.

And Yvette was deliberately telling me, of all people, that she was giving up on her search.

As if she was forcing herself to accept it, as if she was declaring it not only to herself but also to me.

She was done looking back.

Even if I reminded her of her sister, she would ignore it.

After failing ninety-nine times, she refused to try a hundredth.

Because hope, when crushed, was unbearably painful.

‘But…’

A strange unease settled in my chest. I pressed my fingers against my collarbone, trying to soothe the discomfort.

Something felt… off.

Maybe it was just empathy—feeling the weight of nearly twenty years of grief she had carried.

Then, Yvette’s gaze slowly returned to me.

She let out a hollow laugh.

“That’s why seeing someone who resembles my sister puts me in a foul mood. It feels as though the heavens are mocking me to the very end.”

“…….”

“So, to put it simply—right now, I am in a very bad mood.”

*****

The first time Yvette met Rosieta was at Crown Square in the Count’s territory.

She had gone there to meet Deborah. They often arranged trivial meetings like this. And that was when she saw Rosieta speaking with Deborah.

Curly red hair cascading down.

A young woman in her early twenties.

If her younger sister had survived, she might have looked like this.

‘But that’s impossible.’

Her younger sister, the second daughter of the Büllossen family—Irene Büllossen—had been kidnapped.

It happened when the Büllossen family had gone to their villa in Rewybourne, a resort town, for her mother’s postpartum recovery. While news from the capital traveled slowly there, Rewybourne had always been a premier retreat, where the sea met the mountains.

In spring, they would take easels and canvases to paint the landscapes. In summer, dense rose bushes would bloom in breathtaking clusters.

They had spent three happy years there.

And then, they lost her.

Yvette recalled the memory with anguish.

She had only been eight years old.

Their parents had gone out for an evening at the opera, leaving her to watch over her little sister. But Yvette, tired of the constant crying and whining, had come up with a plan.

“The one who stays hidden the longest wins.”

“Okay, sister.”

“No crying. Just sit there quietly until sunset, then you can come out. The one who lasts the longest wins.”

It was in the mansion’s back garden, beneath the dense rose bushes.

Yvette had grown weary of entertaining a child who cried at the slightest thing. So she had told her sister to hide under the bushes for as long as she could. She figured she would let her out before sunset, before their parents returned.

But she disappeared.

Yvette had gone to retrieve her before nightfall, but the bush was empty.

Only the maids were inside the house. She assumed one of them had found her sister wandering and brought her inside.

But not a single maid had seen the child.

Just like that, she had lost her little sister—right in their own home.

Looking back now, it was clearly a kidnapping.

They only learned of the oracle’s decree when Yvette’s father scoured every corner of Rewybourne and, failing to find his daughter, traveled to the capital alone.

“Our child was supposed to be the Saintess? But she’s gone!”

The Viscountess Büllossen had screamed, her face as pale as death.

The entire Büllossen family immediately left for the capital.

After settling Yvette in their townhouse, her parents went to the temple and the king, desperate to explain how their daughter had been taken because of an absurd prophecy.

But even after days passed, they did not return.

“Rumi, Mother and Father aren’t back. Did they disappear like Irene?”

“That can’t be, my lady. Don’t worry.”

The maid reassured her.

It was three days later when the Viscount and Viscountess Büllossen finally returned. Their faces were noticeably grim as they staggered into the house.

Then, with exhausted voices, they spoke to their eldest daughter.

“We’ll search the entire capital for Irene. Just us.”

“Just us? The temple won’t help?”

Yvette asked in alarm.

After all, it was the temple’s prophecy that had made her sister a target in the first place. Surely, they bore some responsibility.

Viscount Büllossen lifted his young daughter into his arms.

His face, gaunt from days of grief, bore countless emotions as he looked at her.

“That’s right. Just us.”