Chapter 87
Risha’s Identity (2)
“Hm. So you’re telling me the Duchess thought the Duke was dead, left everything behind, and walked away from his house? Then she met this Zelda woman, went to a village called Phenomenon, and opened a sandwich shop? A noble lady running a shop—that’s even possible? Every noblewoman I’ve seen in this empire pretends a teacup is too heavy for her delicate wrists.”
“She may be a noblewoman, but her family had fallen, and she wasn’t wealthy. From what I’ve heard, she even cut ties with her baron family.”
“Is that so? Then why did it take her so long to return? I heard the Duke even threatened Harmon just to take leave and fetch his wife.”
“They say she couldn’t easily forgive him for deceiving her—faking his death.”
For something that trivial?
Wouldn’t any wife be glad if her husband, thought dead, came back alive? Especially if that husband had been doomed to die, only to return healthy? And by going with him, she wouldn’t have to toil away running a shop anymore.
Patricia tilted her head at Lara’s explanation, clearly not understanding.
“Why wouldn’t she forgive him? If it were me, knowing that he searched the entire empire for me—even after his curse was lifted—I’d rejoice and return right away. Is she… stupid? Or one of those ‘I don’t care about money, only honor’ types?”
“Every person values different things, Your Highness. Perhaps the Duchess thought faithfulness between husband and wife mattered more than wealth or honor. And since their marriage was on a temporary contract, she might have believed there was no reason to remain in the Duke’s house any longer.”
“A peculiar woman, indeed. Then how did the Duke finally earn her forgiveness? Or did he? Did he perhaps kidnap her? Or threaten her?”
Patricia muttered, unable to imagine Ruan begging anyone for forgiveness.
“They say… the Duke worked as a clerk in her sandwich shop.”
“What? Truly? As a clerk? That proud man, who would rather die than bow his head, served customers in his wife’s shop like a commoner?”
“Not exactly bowing, Your Highness. And please, stop reading those ridiculous novels.”
“Well, even so! Did he win her forgiveness by being a good clerk? Or perhaps he seduced her with his looks?”
Lara grimaced at Patricia’s wild imagination.
“No one knows for certain. Likely he apologized with sincerity. That must be how he won her back.”
“Hm… I must meet this woman again.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m curious. There must be something about her that we don’t see. The Duke—who once seemed like stone, who wouldn’t bleed even if stabbed—fell in love, broke a witch’s curse, and humbled himself in her shop just to bring her back. I need to know why.”
Please, if only Her Highness wouldn’t let her curiosity run wild… Lara rubbed her temple.
But the chance came sooner than expected.
When Patricia returned to that same shop for more cookies, she met Marican again. Just like before, Marican stepped in to help her, even convincing the shop owner to apologize.
And though Marican mistook her for a commoner, she never looked down on her—nor flaunted her noble status. That made Patricia want to know her better.
Later, when Marican herself mentioned Ruan and Zelda, Patricia felt a sudden, sharp resolve: she couldn’t let this woman slip away.
Marican was unlike anyone she had ever met before. There was something rare and luminous about her. Patricia liked her instantly.
On impulse, she proposed a sisterhood. When Marican hesitated, asking for more time, Patricia feigned ignorance and pressed until Marican finally agreed.
Even then, Marican never grew angry. Instead, she simply smiled and said yes. For the first time since arriving in the empire, Patricia felt she had met someone truly worth cherishing.
So, when she impulsively promised Marican a gift, she ended up creating matching pendants, engraving their names upon them.
In Allomande, such pendants were precious treasures. But here in the empire, they were meaningless trinkets. Why was everyone making such a fuss over it?
Patricia picked up the pendant from the table, turning it in her hands.
“Duke, yes, this pendant is rare in my kingdom. But here in the empire, it’s nothing more than an ornament. Don’t think too deeply about it.”
“Your Highness… can I truly believe that? I don’t want my wife hurt because of you.”
“Of course. I swear on the honor of Allomande—I will never use Marican for politics, nor to manipulate you. I simply like her. I want to be close to her, as one might with a sister. That is all.”
Ruan studied Patricia for a long moment, then quietly tucked the pendant into his coat.
“…I’ll trust your word, Your Highness. But reveal your identity soon. I won’t stand by and watch my wife toyed with.”
“To toy with her? How insulting! Fine, I’ll tell her. Do you want it in writing, perhaps a sworn oath?”
“I’ll be going now.”
“Your Highness, are you well?” Lara asked anxiously as Ruan left with his usual icy expression.
But Patricia, undaunted by his threats, smiled brightly.
“Lara, Marican… she’s remarkable. How did she tame a wild beast like that man? Ah, I think life in this empire will be rather fun from now on.”
***
“Cléa, what is all this?”
On a rare day without lessons, Marican was enjoying tea in the garden after a late breakfast when Cléa and Charles arrived, carrying a pile of books and dropping them onto the table.
With eager eyes, Cléa announced, “My lady, we must choose the gown you will wear to the upcoming Imperial Ball.”
Don’t tell me… all these books are dress designs?
“This volume has the latest fashions, and this one…” Cléa glanced around, lowering her voice, “…contains designs specially commissioned by the imperial family.”
“Cléa, I doubt I should wear anything identical to what the royal family will wear. Hm… I rather like this one.”
Marican pointed to a design with a high waist and a flowing skirt, one that would hide her side a little.
But Cléa shook her head. “My lady, though you may be a touch plump, your figure is hardly unpleasant. A gown that flares from the waist will flatter you far more beautifully.”
“Really? It’s hard to tell from a sketch.”
“Don’t worry, my lady.”
“Hm?”
Just then, Charles approached. “Head maid, they’ve arrived.”
“Arrived? Who’s come to the Duke’s house today?”
“For you, my lady. The master arranged it specially.”
At Cléa’s delighted clap, more than fifty attendants streamed into the garden, arms laden with dresses and accessories.
“My word, nothing compares to actually trying them on,” Charles remarked.
Cléa nodded, carefully studying each gown Marican wore.
“My lady, in my opinion, this one, the previous gown, and the very first one suit you best. What do you think?”
“Ah… I can’t remember, honestly. I’ve tried on so many I’ve lost track. Cléa, you amaze me.”
“To me, nearly all suited you well. But yes, those three stood out. And the green gown too.”
“Yes, the green one. That was lovely.”
“Then we’ll choose those.”
“Now, let’s move on to accessories!”
What? More choices? You can’t be serious…
After three hours of fittings, Marican felt her spirit drifting away.
“Has it already begun?”
“Oh, Ruan! You’re here,” she said as he entered.
“My lady, you look stunning today.”
“It’s the dress that’s stunning, not me.”
But Ruan stepped close, kissing her cheek as he admired her emerald gown and sapphire necklace.
“In my eyes, every dress here suits you perfectly.”
Don’t tell me he plans to buy them all? Surely not…
With a firm look, Marican said, “Ruan, no. We’ll only keep the ones Cléa and Charles suggested. The rest must be returned. There’s no need for waste.”
“As you wish. But the accessories—we’ll keep them all. They’re already purchased.”
“You bought all these accessories?”
“You’ve none of your own. Isn’t it proper that you should have them?”
“It’s just… so many.”
Since childhood, accessories had always gone to Lucianne. Even after her marriage, she had seldom needed them. But now, touching the necklace at her throat, she had to admit—paired with a gown, they transformed her appearance.
“This necklace especially—it matches your eyes perfectly.”
“Thank you, Ruan. For everything. The dresses, the jewelry, this necklace—all of it.”
“As long as you’re pleased, I’m content.”
“Actually… I have something for you as well.”
Charles hurried out, returning moments later with a bundle.
“For me?” Ruan asked.
“Yes. I chose your attire for the ball.”
“My ball attire? When?”
“On our last trip for cookies, my lady selected it,” Charles explained, handing over the clothes.
Marican flushed. “I hope you’ll like it.”
“My lady, if it’s from you, I’ll cherish it, no matter what.” Ruan carefully accepted the garments and stepped away to change.
“Will he like it?” Marican asked nervously.
“Of course. You spent hours searching, and even embroidered it yourself. Look—he’s coming.”
Ruan strode back into the garden wearing a deep indigo coat, the crest of the Canoluf lion emblazoned on his chest.
“My lady, how do I look?”
“It suits you perfectly. Do you like it?”
“Immensely. Especially the crest here.” He touched the embroidery.
Excited, Charles exclaimed, “Master, my lady embroidered that herself! She pricked her fingers countless times, staying up nights to finish.”
“What? You injured yourself?”
At once, Ruan seized Marican’s hands, his expression darkening as he examined her fingers.
