Chapter 08
Moths
Vivienne rode home in a police patrol car. She had happened to be in the very center of the capital with the agent, and the area was crawling with officers on patrol.
She explained that she had lost her way, and they cheerfully offered to escort her back to her family estate. Perhaps it was because her brother was also a police officer—when they heard the destination was the Mergoville estate, they were so obliging that it never even occurred to her that she might be inconveniencing them.
On the way, Vivienne thought about how her family would react.
Another slap across the face? A beating until her thighs burned?
But when she arrived, her parents did not even come out to look her over. She waited in the drawing room as instructed, and they eventually arrived accompanied by a jeweler. The appraiser examined the jewels Vivienne had returned through a loupe.
“One is missing.”
That was the first thing her parents said to her. The Mergoville name sounded less like the proud bond of a noble family and more like the name of a business enterprise.
Vivienne understood their logic.
All they possessed were these jewels, a worthless stretch of land, and the name Mergoville itself. Of those, the most valuable asset by far was the name. That was why they had not reported her disappearance to the police. If the press got involved, the name would be stained.
Vivienne could not drive. She could not endure physical labor. She could not cook. Having gone out into the world and learned this for herself, she could no longer fully resent her parents.
After all, like them, she too had to put on airs to survive.
“I’ll count that as the price of remaining the fiancée to the man you chose for me.”
“……”
“That’s why I came back. For no other reason.”
She realized she could no longer hate them. She also realized she could not blame a world that had already changed. Then who was she supposed to hold responsible for this suffocating emptiness inside her?
“What possible use would you have for your father’s cufflinks… never mind. Even if that’s what you think, it’s already too late. The Rex family may no longer want you as a daughter-in-law.”
“If that were true, Ludwig Rex wouldn’t have shown up at the villa I was staying in at dawn today—with police officers in tow.”
“…….”
“If you’ll excuse me, I have a call to make.”
Vivienne stood and offered a polite farewell.
I never told Cynthia when we’d meet again.
Just then, a servant waiting by the door called out to her.
“There’s something that was delivered for you, miss.”
Vivienne went down to the first floor. In the vast entrance hall were several shopping bags: thick winter coats, handbags, day dresses, and jewelry—the things the man had bought her while strolling through the wealthy district with her. Everything she had left behind at the villa.
A farewell gift.
There was no sender’s name. No message beyond that single line.
❖ ❖ ❖
When Edmund returned to the villa, the first place he went was Vivienne’s room. As he retrieved the pistol she had left behind, he noticed something beside it.
Sunlight slanted through the window, glinting off a transparent glass case. Inside lay a gemstone so old and exquisite it looked as though it had been cut centuries ago.
An emerald-cut blue diamond. At first he thought it was an earring, but when he took it out, he saw it was a pair of cufflinks meticulously set in silver.
This is the price of my life. Your share.
That was what the note beside the case read. When he turned his head, he saw that everything he had bought for Vivienne was still neatly arranged in the corner of the room.
Edmund stood there for a long while, staring.
That was why he decided to write a reply to that tiny slip of paper.
❖ ❖ ❖
—It’s me.
The call that came to Cynthia’s estate shortly afterward began just like that. Cynthia bit down on the inside of her cheek. If the call had been connected directly to her room through the exchange, there was only one possible caller.
“Mergoville.”
—That’s right. I was calling to ask what time works for you today.
“Are you with the agent?”
A long silence followed.
—No.
“…….”
—Shall we meet at three?
“Do you even have clothes to wear? Something that isn’t off-the-rack?”
—I do. And they won’t be clothes I wore before either. You pay close attention to what I wear—you’d know. And for the record, I don’t need the money you offered.
“Does posturing put food on the table?”
—Isn’t it closer to having the decency to feel sorry?
“…….”
—You sound rushed. I think I may have accidentally angered my fiancée, and the fallout landed on your side. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.
“…….”
—And besides. Considering you were the one who never intended to give me the money or the vineyard in the first place, aren’t you the one putting on airs?
“Still talking big. I guess you’re doing fine.”
The Mergoville family must have gone bankrupt—Cynthia was certain of it. So what on earth was this girl thinking?
Marrying Ludwig Rex? Now, of all times?
That couldn’t be it.
“If you’re sorry, then come over right now. I’m busy.”
Cynthia hung up and stared coldly at the receiver. Her reflection in the window slowly changed, until a pleasant smile settled on her face. Only then did she turn lightly and take a seat across the tea table.
“Thank you for inviting me, Lady Eastwell.”
The woman sitting across from Cynthia extended her hand. She was breathtakingly beautiful—and yet, somehow vulgar. Her clothes were immaculate, her speech impeccably polite.
“The pleasure is mine,” Cynthia replied, forcing a smile as she shook her hand.
As if understanding the awkwardness, Janet spoke gently.
“Please forgive my earlier rudeness. As you know, my story became news, and I received countless calls—reporters, politicians, businessmen… It was fascinating, collecting all those business cards.”
She flipped through a stack of cards pulled from her jacket pocket, her gaze drifting.
“I’m usually more accustomed to seeing those people naked.”
Cynthia began coughing into her tea. Janet clicked her tongue softly and handed her a napkin.
“Oh dear.”
As Cynthia dabbed her lips, Janet continued.
“By the way, if I’d known you were a friend of Miss Vivienne Mergoville, I would have replied immediately.”
The word friend twisted slightly on Janet’s lips. Even leaning back against the chair, Janet Watkins radiated sensuality—her red lips stark against pale skin and blonde hair.
So it’s true, Cynthia thought. Ludwig Rex really does only go for blondes.
“Well,” Janet went on, “I foolishly assumed you were another scoundrel hoping to exploit my story for your election.”
“An unnecessary misunderstanding,” Cynthia replied coolly.
Janet smiled amiably.
“The others were the same. They suggested that if I helped secure the Prime Minister’s re-election, it would be a fitting revenge for my man, who was cleared of assault charges. What a ridiculous misunderstanding.”
“You love Ludwig Rex.”
“No. That’s not the point. How would that be revenge? Even a cabaret singer like me knows the Speaker of the Noble Assembly isn’t aligned with any party.”
“Only in name.”
Cynthia swallowed her irritation.
Though officially neutral, the Speaker favored the shadow cabinet—the opposition tied to unions infiltrated by the underworld. The Eastwell family had stayed silent about Vivienne and tacitly aided the Prime Minister’s intelligence operation.
The price had been her father—cut loose and executed brutally.
“Do you truly not know?” Cynthia asked coldly. “Or are you pretending not to?”
“Well,” Janet smiled, her red lips curving smoothly, “who can say?”
Cynthia glanced past her at the gramophone on the console. The vinyl was spinning, recording every word. Consent hadn’t been obtained—but once Vivienne arrived and made a spectacle of herself, Janet would surely be satisfied.
“Let’s get to the point,” Cynthia said. “Did Ludwig Rex hit you, Janet?”
“Well, I did make him very angry once.”
“For example…?”
“I gave birth control pills to the woman who’ll one day become Mrs. Rex.”
Cynthia coughed again.
“Oh my. The tea must be hot.”
This time, she slapped away the napkin Janet offered.
“He’s sensitive about his family’s dignity,” Janet continued casually.
She dipped a finger into the chocolate syrup beside the strawberries and sucked it clean.
“If you overstep, you should be punished. Besides, he’s particularly sexy when he’s angry.”
“…Miss Watkins.”
The playfulness vanished from Janet’s face. She rose, wiping her fingers. The rejected napkin lay crumpled on the table, smeared with chocolate.
“It’s an honor to be invited by a congressman’s daughter, but if you’re entertaining pointless ideas, you should give them up.”
“…….”
“You can’t do anything with just me as a card. If you could, why do you think I never trusted those who reached out earlier? I understand wanting revenge—whether for a dear friend or some other reason—but this is worse than doing nothing at all.”
As Cynthia sat frozen, Janet approached the gramophone.
“So this was it.”
She lifted the needle and removed the vinyl. Cynthia raised a hand to stop her bodyguard.
Janet tossed the record into the fireplace, shrugged, and turned back.
Just as she finished an exaggerated curtsy and turned to leave, Cynthia spoke.
“Are you hurt badly?”
Janet paused at the door, smiled faintly—a self-mocking smile no one behind her could see.
“It was tolerable. At least when I believed I was paying the price for insulting the woman who would take his precious family name.”
“…….”
“But here’s something interesting,” she said quietly. “Sometimes I feel like his family name isn’t the goal at all—just a trivial means.”
“What do you mean—”
Cynthia stood abruptly, but Janet was already gone.
To Ludwig Rex, the Rex name was merely a tool?
For what purpose?
Cynthia felt she already knew the answer—and that was why she dared not ask.
Breathless, she opened a window. Just then, a Langston limousine bearing the Mergoville crest pulled up outside.
Vivienne stepped out, draped in the most expensive things the capital had to offer. Even as money was thrown at her to mock her fall, she still looked every bit the daughter of the most dignified noble family in the district.
Until the moment she stepped out of the car, Vivienne’s worry had been simple. Walking into Cynthia’s house, knowing her state of mind, felt unpleasant.
The wind was bitterly cold. Perhaps because the man was no longer there, it felt lonelier still. Without the coat he’d sent, it might have been unbearable.
She forced herself to walk calmly toward the building—and then noticed a new problem approaching from the opposite direction.
Janet Bell Watkins.
Her expression was unguarded, her splendid appearance clashing with a hollow look in her eyes. When her wandering gaze landed on Vivienne, betrayal slowly twisted her face into something vicious.
“Disgusting,” Janet spat. “You nobles.”
Feign concern. Pretend to care. Turn people into laughingstocks.
“Isn’t that right?” Vivienne replied smoothly.
The elegance of her tone sharply contrasted Janet’s venom. She slipped something from her leather clutch and pressed it into Janet’s hand.
“The birth control pills you gave me. I kept them, just in case—but it seems I never needed them.”
As she passed by, Vivienne added casually,
“Oh, and about nobles—my fiancée is only half blue-blooded. I suppose that’s why you enjoyed everything below the waist so much?”
“…….”
“Perhaps liking his face—despite the lack of noble blood—felt unacceptable?”
Janet glared murderously.
“I’ve always thought so. My fiancée may look like a noble heir, but below the waist he’s vulgar. Half-bred, after all.”
“…….”
“If you’d only liked him halfway, you wouldn’t have been hurt.”
Vivienne walked on, lips curling faintly.
Janet lunged impulsively, only to be restrained by security. The Eastwell butler opened the door and greeted Vivienne respectfully.
Janet watched as Lady Eastwell warmly embraced Vivienne—then, smoothing her clothes pointlessly, she left alone.
❖ ❖ ❖
“If you’re back safely, that’s all that matters. How is your mother?”
“She’s well, Lady Eastwell.”
“She must have been worried. Cynthia may not show it, but she was very concerned.”
Cynthia emerged just then, eyes screaming How can you be so thoughtless? Vivienne remained calm.
“Spend some time together. I must go see my husband.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“And Cynthia—be kind to your friend.”
Once Lady Eastwell left, Cynthia shut the door behind them.
“Who was it?” Vivienne asked. “The one my fiancée hurt.”
“You’ve always been sharp for no reason.”
Anger barely restrained.
“Why come to me? Shouldn’t you have gone to your fiancée?”
“I’m glad you and your mother are well.”
“…….”
“I met Watkins outside. You wouldn’t invite someone like her without a reason. You were trying to use her to get leverage on Ludwig Rex.”
“Oh, of course. Brilliant Vivienne Mergoville.”
“I came to help.”
“With what? Showing off in his bed?”
“Does your father have journalist contacts?”
Her voice was colder now.
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m the ‘noble strategist’ the press wants to know about.”
“…What?”
“They think it’s my fiancée. But his name isn’t on the documents. Mine is.”
Silence.
“Use that. Create noise. Let them think you know something.”
Cynthia stared, stunned.
“And why tell me this?”
“You looked desperate.”
And because she needed a messenger.
Vivienne turned to leave, her clutch trembling slightly in her grip.
Becoming Ludwig Rex’s wife would have been safer.
But she had learned how to use a family name.
After all—she was a true Mergoville.
❖ ❖ ❖
Janet Watkins swallowed the pills in silence.
That night, the snow fell.
And far from the city, a gunshot rang out across the frozen ground.
