IPWDP 17

Chapter 17

The banquet ended late at night, close to dawn. Inside the duke’s family carriage, Celluna’s face was swollen with frustration.

“Why does our beautiful daughter look so miserable?” her mother asked.

“Why do you think? It’s because His Highness the Crown Prince escorted Ephilia,” sneered her older brother, Hexi.

“She’s his fiancée. Isn’t that only natural? Do you think he’d escort you instead?”

Celluna had secretly followed Ephilia and Regios and saw the two of them step out onto the balcony together. They couldn’t possibly stay long together—everyone already knew the Crown Prince despised his fated partner.

As expected, Regios soon came out alone, leaving Ephilia behind. Celluna quickly approached him.

‘Your Highness, why are you here alone?’

‘Lady Celluna.’

‘I saw you at the tournament last time. You were incredible.’

‘Is that so? I appreciate your kind words.’

‘Ah, and also…’

It was clear he was only being polite, but Celluna was convinced that the only reason he wasn’t showing his true feelings was because of Ephilia’s position as his fiancée.

‘Your Highness?’

‘Excuse me a moment.’

Without warning, Regios turned and went back out to the balcony. When he returned, he was escorting Ephilia, and he stayed by her side until the banquet ended.

Of course, it was only proper that he spend the evening with his betrothed. But Celluna couldn’t stand it. The Crown Prince hated Ephilia—everyone knew it. Yet because of “fate,” he kept her beside him.

“It was just manners! Everyone knows His Highness hates Ephil—my sister!”

“Manners or not, it’s still not you he escorted,” Hexi shot back.

“Oh yeah? And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You can’t even talk to him, so what right do you have to lecture me?”

Hexi’s face flushed red. Her words had hit a sore spot.

He’d assumed that once he inherited the dukedom, he’d naturally become close to Regios, like their fathers had been. But Regios wasn’t the sociable type, and Hexi had never managed to form a close relationship with him.

In truth, that was the case for all of them. Ephilia’s late father, the previous duke, had been one of the Emperor’s closest advisors, and the duchess had served as the Empress’s chief lady-in-waiting. Their two sons had grown up as childhood friends to the Crown Prince and the second prince. And now, with Ephilia fated to be the Crown Prince’s partner, the current duke’s family couldn’t sever ties with her no matter how much they despised her.

“You insolent girl,” her father muttered.

“Hmph, did I say anything wrong?”

“Stop it, both of you,” the duchess scolded. “Hexi, how many times have I told you not to speak to your sister like that?”

They talked as if Ephilia wasn’t even there.

The duke’s carriage was large and luxurious, with room for five people to sit comfortably, yet Ephilia felt suffocated.

If only I could ride alone…

There was no reason they couldn’t take separate carriages, but the duke and duchess preferred to maintain appearances. Though they had inherited the title, rumors still swirled about the violent deaths of the previous duke and his family. Ephilia’s very presence was a living reminder of that tragedy. So the duke insisted they all ride together to show others that he treated his late brother’s daughter as his own.

Of course, behind closed doors, they dropped the act.

“The Crown Prince’s fate can’t be helped,” her uncle said dismissively.

Ephilia sat quietly in the corner, afraid to even breathe too loudly lest she annoy them. Though she knew the Emperor treated her kindly for the sake of appearances, her uncle clearly resented her very existence.

“Tch. It would’ve been better if she’d died with her family,” he muttered.

“She’s just too oblivious,” Celluna laughed, agreeing with him.

To them, Ephilia was an outsider—an intruder in their family. She might as well have been alone in the world. In truth, she was.

Several days passed after the banquet. Ephilia stayed in her room, living as quietly as ever. Her days were lonely but peaceful—except for one difference.

Her position in the empire was precarious. Officially, she was the duke’s first daughter. But in society, Celluna was the one recognized as the true young lady of the house. The current duke, Denold, was Celluna’s biological father, after all.

Though Ephilia was the Crown Prince’s fiancée—and his fated match—everyone knew he rejected her. No one in society wished to be associated with a woman who had been publicly spurned by her royal partner.

While Celluna attended tea parties and spent time with other noble ladies, Ephilia remained secluded in her room, never even taking walks.

The servants no longer openly mistreated her, but they didn’t truly serve her either. Whenever she encountered her uncle’s family, she was met with harsh words. Her life was one of complete isolation.

So when Prince Hailen had jokingly said he would invite her to the palace, Ephilia had taken it seriously—it was the first excuse she’d have to leave the mansion in months.

Why hasn’t any letter arrived yet?

She had been sure he meant it. Knowing Hailen’s personality, he would have sent an invitation the very next day. Growing anxious, she finally left her room.

She had no personal maid—her uncle didn’t allow it, fearing any servant might grow loyal to her. Whenever she needed something, she had to request help from the general staff, and every one of her actions was reported to the duke.

Ephilia went to find the butler, an old servant of the new duke who had once worked for her family’s estate but now held no fondness for her.

“Butler.”

“Yes, young lady. What is it?”

His tone was polite, but not respectful. He addressed Celluna as Lady Celluna, but called Ephilia only “young lady.” The message was clear: she wasn’t truly of noble standing.

“Has a letter arrived from the palace?”

“Many letters arrive from the palace.”

“I mean one addressed to me.”

“I’ll check and inform you.”

“…So there isn’t one?”

“Do you think the duke’s household receives so little correspondence? Please wait in your room.”

“…All right.”

Ephilia obediently returned to her room. Hours passed with no word. Then, without even knocking, the door burst open. Only a few people in the mansion would dare do that—and Denold was one of them.

“F-Father.”

Ever since she was a child—ever since that terrifying time she’d been locked in the attic—she had called him “Father.” Not because she wanted to, but because failing to do so invited punishment.

“I hear you asked the butler about a letter from the palace?”

She hadn’t expected the butler to inform him so quickly, though she supposed she should have.

“Why? Did you think His Highness the Crown Prince would send you one?”

“No, it’s not that. Prince Hailen—His Highness the Second Prince—said he would send me an invitation.”

“The Second Prince has left the capital on urgent business.”

Hailen left the palace?

That was strange. If he’d had other plans, he wouldn’t have said such a thing to her. Something unexpected must have happened.

“Did something urgent occur?”

“What business of that is yours?”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Stop wandering about, embarrassing this household. Stay quietly in your room.”

“Yes…”

And so, once again, she was left trapped in that mansion, unsure how to endure another month of suffocating isolation. The estate that had once been filled with the laughter of her parents and brothers was now nothing but a nightmare.