“What did Ophelia say?”

Decar asked as he downed a glass of cold water. Hans, who had entered to give his report, hesitated before replying.

“She insists—even if it kills her—that she is not the Grand Duchess.”

A brief silence lingered.

“…And your thoughts?”

“She looks exactly like the Grand Duchess. Enough that it’s hard to believe otherwise. However… her speech and behavior seemed oddly younger, even innocent at times.”

At his answer, Decar sighed and rubbed his forehead, as though his thoughts were sinking even deeper.

“…Did she seem to be lying?”

At the returned question, Hans’s gaze sank heavily. After organizing his thoughts for a moment, he slowly spoke.

“I believe she has every reason to lie. After all, there was a reason Her Grace left the manor.”

Decar bit down hard on his lip, his brow furrowing.

The reason she left the manor.

The truth he wanted to keep denying was being shoved in front of his face again, and a bitter displeasure seeped into his chest.

As a throbbing headache pressed in, he pinched at his temple with his thumb, then drew in a long breath as though steeling himself.

“I’ll speak to her again.”

His departing back was heavy with resolve.

***

Ophelia bit her lip as she stared at the firmly closed door.

No! How could he keep insisting she was the Grand Duchess when she clearly wasn’t! It was impossible to hold a proper conversation.

Granted, the picture they had shown her did depict a Grand Duchess with red hair and green eyes.

Fine! If she stretched things a lot, maybe—maybe—there was the slightest resemblance.

But that alone wasn’t proof that she was the Grand Duchess.

‘And that man… he’s supposed to be the Grand Duke? Decar Meyer?’

Grand Duke Decar Meyer was a respected ruler, yet equally notorious. Some even claimed he killed for entertainment.

Of course, that was only a minority opinion. Still, the fact such rumors even existed was hardly reassuring.

And there had to be a reason those whispers followed the ruler of an entire territory.

Take the war from a few years ago, for example.

The war had been waged against the Grand Duchess’ own kingdom, where Decar achieved great military merit. At the time, rumors circulated that he had cast his wife aside, who was no longer useful to him, and was already seeking a replacement.

And those chilling eyes that met hers! So beautiful they might have been carved from jewels, yet cold and lifeless. Ashen gray, they held no trace of feeling at all.

Ophelia, who prided herself on her ability to read people, felt no doubt. The rumors, faint as they were, must have been true.

‘Could it be… I’m really going to die here?’

Perhaps he wanted to get rid of his wife to make room for a new one. And whether the corpse shown was genuine or not—what difference would it make?

Her stomach turned cold. The possibility felt far too reasonable.

And hadn’t she already committed a grave offense against the Grand Duke? No one needed to tell her what happened to a commoner who dared to kick a lord’s vital parts.

The longer she considered it, the more certain she became—he had no reason to spare her life.

‘What do I do…? Am I really going to die here?’

Suddenly, a fierce rainstorm pelted against the window. The darkening sky and pounding raindrops only deepened her dread.

Ophelia’s face grew pale. The memory of Decar’s face twisted in pain came to mind, and her insides burned with panic.

“This won’t do.”

In her mind, her death was already certain. She couldn’t just sit and wait for it.

She had a modest but happy life worth protecting—her little home in Cedar, her cherished neighbors and friends.

No matter what it took, she had to escape. It was her only chance to live.

Biting down on her lip, Ophelia pressed against the firmly closed door. She cracked it open slightly—only to see two guards standing stiffly outside.

“Ahaha… um, I think I’m a little hungry…”

As soon as their cold eyes fell on her, Ophelia hunched her shoulders and muttered.

“…If you wait a moment, we’ll bring you something to eat.”

“Ah, thank you…”

She replied with a faint smile, her gaze carefully lingering on them. Unfortunately, only one guard left, while the other stayed at his post.

Unable to hide her disappointment, Ophelia pouted and shut the door.

‘Am I really trapped here?’

She began pacing, checking every corner of the room. Out of desperation, she opened every door inside, poking around uselessly.

“Hm…?”

And then she saw it—an odd irregularity in the wall’s structure.

Her room was flanked by a washroom on one side and a dressing room on the other, sharing a wall.

But on closer inspection, the dressing room wall extended farther than the washroom’s.

‘I heard noble chambers sometimes have hidden passages…’

Secret tunnels for escaping in emergencies.

Even if it was just a rumor, she was desperate enough to look around. At this point, believing in something like that was easier than sitting still to die.

Better to do something than nothing.

Swallowing hard, Ophelia carefully inspected the wall the dressing room shared with the washroom.

‘Please…’

Her fingers brushed against something, and a spark of excitement lit her eyes.

“There it is.”

A small latch, barely noticeable on the wall. Heart pounding, she tugged it. With a click, the wall swung open.

“Wow…”

First came the smell of dust.

Then she saw it—a narrow space just wide enough for a person to slip through, leading to stairs that plunged into darkness.

She couldn’t believe such a thing actually existed.

Knock, knock.

While she was staring in awe, someone knocked on the door.

“Grand Duchess.”

A guard’s voice. 

Startled, Ophelia’s mind raced. If she bolted now, it would look suspicious. She needed to buy time.

Closing the dressing room entrance, she stepped out to accept the food. She even thanked him cheerfully before returning to her room.

Not even a moment after, she slipped back into the dressing room, shoved a heavy dresser against the door, and hurried through the hidden passage.

Something in her bones warned her—this was her last chance.

Just in case, she shut the hidden door tightly. Darkness swallowed her vision. Hands pressed to the wall, she carefully descended. With each step, her pace quickened.

“Ah!”

The stairs suddenly ended, and she stumbled. Blinking rapidly, she saw a faint light shining through a doorway at the end of a narrow corridor.

Breathless, Ophelia sprinted toward it.

Light burst through as she opened the door. The scent of rain filled her nose, and she let out a trembling smile.

***

Ophelia was gone.

Decar felt his blood turn cold, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. His fist, tightly clenched, felt strangely numb.

Drawing in a deep breath, he turned his gaze to the guards outside the door.

“You left your post?”

The pale-faced guard trembled violently as he answered.

“N-no, sir. The lady said she was hungry, so I stepped away briefly, but Michael remained here the whole time. She even received her meal, sir.”

Decar’s eyes swept the empty room, sharp and cold.

The window was firmly shut. The bedclothes lay tousled from where she rose. The washroom door was slightly ajar. The dressing room door remained tightly closed.

“…Hah.”

A thin laugh escaped his lips.

She hadn’t jumped from the fourth floor. That left only one option.

He strode toward the dressing room and opened the door. A dull thud rang out as something heavy toppled against it.

No sound beyond that.

She wanted to leave him that badly? Why—what for?

Could the rumors truly be…?

‘Ridiculous.’

The truth didn’t matter. All that mattered to Decar was that he had found her again. His jaw tightened, muscle straining.

Drawing in another sharp breath through his nose, he gave his order.

“The lady has escaped again. She can’t have gone far—send out the search parties.”

A chilling growl slipped through his clenched teeth.

He felt a twinge of guilt for his wife, but Decar had no intention of ever letting her go again.