Episode 47
“What’s so funny that you’re smiling like that?”
Eleanor’s calm voice broke the silence.
She had been watching Catherine for some time now, and her eyes, though indifferent, now held curiosity.
Catherine jumped slightly in surprise—she hadn’t noticed Eleanor was there.
Eleanor tilted her head slightly, gazing at her. Catherine had been grinning at a letter, and it must have looked odd.
Caught off guard like a kid getting in trouble, Catherine quickly forced her smile down.
“Ah… um, it’s nothing…”
Of course, she couldn’t just show Eleanor the letter from Red Bird, the information guild. Eleanor probably knew about Red Bird by now—after all, in the original novel, she had used them to get information.
But the guild was not somewhere just anyone could access. If Eleanor found out Catherine had connections there, it would look suspicious.
“S-so, it’s from Abby! You know, Abigail—my friend…”
Catherine decided to tell a half-truth. The letter was from Red Bird, but Abigail had sent her one too, so it wasn’t a complete lie.
“From Lady Abigail of House Frongs?” Eleanor asked.
“Yeah, she sent me a letter, and… the content was just funny. You know what she’s like—kind of a strange, fun person. Haha…”
Eleanor looked like she bought the explanation. She soon lost interest, turned back to her book, and said calmly:
“I see. So you’re still close with her.”
Her voice was quiet and calm… but Catherine couldn’t help but feel there was something cold in her tone.
Catherine was about to go back to reading her letter, but a sudden thought struck her.
Eleanor didn’t have any close friends.
Abigail was a friend in Catherine’s life—even if part of the so-called “villain group.”
But in the original story, Eleanor, the protagonist, had no female friends.
Sure, she was popular at the academy. Many liked her. But she didn’t have a “best friend”—no close girlfriends at all.
The only people around Eleanor were men—sub-male leads—who liked her but hung around pretending to be friends.
“Why didn’t she have any girlfriends…?” Catherine wondered.
Then it hit her.
It was because of her. It was Catherine’s fault.
“Don’t hang out with Eleanor.”
“Why not? Who are you, anyway?”
“Me? I’m Catherine Valentine. My mom just married the Duke, so she’s the new Duchess. You’d be smarter to hang out with me instead. You’ll benefit more that way.”
Yes. That was what the “old Catherine” used to say.
She had manipulated other noble kids her age to stay away from Eleanor.
She had isolated her. Or worse, she had bullied those who tried to befriend her, tattled to Rachel, and got their families excluded from parties and events.
Before long, no one dared to be near Eleanor.
She had been completely alone—and it was all Catherine’s doing.
“It was me… Damn it!”
Even now, in tea parties and social gatherings, noble girls were more interested in Catherine’s reaction than Eleanor’s presence. They all knew who held real power in the Valentine household.
Catherine felt guilty.
Maybe she could fix it… maybe she could introduce Eleanor to Abigail. If Abigail saw that Catherine no longer disliked Eleanor, maybe she wouldn’t either.
“Eleanor… want me to introduce you to Abigail? She’s fun. A good person.”
“…”
“She comes from a famous merchant family, and their business is well-known. If our families became close, it could even help you politically, so…”
“No. That’s okay.”
Eleanor gently shook her head.
She explained that she preferred being alone and that she wasn’t looking to make any friends right now.
It was clear she wanted to end the conversation there.
Seeing her disinterested purple-blue eyes, Catherine nodded slowly and turned her head. Her eyes naturally fell on the book Eleanor was reading:
“Ancient Holy Power and Ancient Magic.”
Holy power and magic…
Holy power was used by saints and holy knights—those who served the gods. Magic was more associated with demons and magical beasts.
Long ago, demons caused immense suffering among humans. So saints—gifted with holy power—rose to fight them.
Eventually, after a long war, the saints won. That’s why demons are no longer found in the empire today.
However, some people with magical blood remained—though not demons themselves. These people, with magic in their veins, were called Black Gems.
Eleanor had originally planned to reveal her holy power at age 20.
But because she had used it to save Catherine, the Duke had discovered it early. Thankfully, only he and Catherine knew—so far.
Since holy power came in many forms and strengths, Eleanor was probably studying to understand her own better.
“Come to think of it… didn’t Gilbert say the Valois family began from a saint and a demon?”
It was said that now, after many generations, the family no longer had magic users.
But maybe Eleanor inherited strong holy power through that saintly bloodline.
That made sense, especially for a protagonist.
Catherine nodded, remembering Gilbert’s explanation.
Then she recalled something else—something Eleanor had once said:
“It didn’t work on you.”
The holy power… didn’t work on Catherine.
Which meant: it was not holy power that cured her. It had been the medicine—Pilothes—that she made herself.
“Well… thank goodness that worked, at least.”
If Rachel was Gilbert’s daughter and Selena’s sister, then Catherine also had Valois’s blood. She might not have powerful holy energy like Eleanor, but maybe there was a little in her.
Still, as Eleanor said, some people are completely immune to holy power—their bodies just don’t respond.
That must be her.
“Ugh… I won’t heal quickly even with magic… That sucks.”
She had always imagined that in fantasy worlds, magic would make wounds heal instantly. But no—it seemed even here, she’d have to rely on real medicine like in the real world.
“Well then… I have to be careful not to get hurt…”
She sighed, silently vowing to take better care of herself.
Meanwhile…
“Rachel… my dear…”
In the dark, damp, filthy basement, a soft voice trembled with sorrow and love.
Rachel slowly opened her tired eyes.
Her dull blue eyes met another pair—eyes of a similar shade, just as exhausted.
“…Ha. Haha. Hahaha…”
“….”
“Haha… Hahahaha!”
As soon as she recognized the person, Rachel began to laugh like a madwoman.
Of course, she laughed. What else could she do?
“Rachel…”
“What are you doing here?” she sneered. “Ah… I get it. The Duke must’ve told you I’m about to die. Right?”
The other person’s sad eyes looked at her with pity.
Rachel hated that look.
That soft, tragic gaze—like looking at a child who couldn’t be saved.
She had always hated it.
“You failed. All of it. Redemption? Change? Love?”
No. It was impossible.
“This is how I was always meant to end.”
She had tried to fight fate once. So had they.
But in the end—look at her now.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Your perfect ending.”
Here she was, a criminal in chains. A disgrace.
“She will become a sinner in the end, my Lord. No one can escape fate.”
“…She is my daughter. I can’t abandon her.”
“This is for everyone’s sake. Like every head before you, you must choose for the greater good.”
“…”
“Will you abandon your people for one child? She isn’t your only daughter. The entire Valois line depends on you.”
She had heard those words once. A conversation not meant for her ears.
The time he had to choose—to give her up or not.
And in the end, he had made his choice.
He chose the people, the retainers, Selena… not her.
Rachel looked at Gilbert, her father, who stood there with that same sad, helpless look in his eyes.
And with a wide, bright smile—completely unhinged—she whispered:
“So be happy… okay, Father?”
