Chapter 6 — The Mad Viper
The Duchess of Heidel gently pushed Daphne away and tried to get up from the bed.
“My dear……!”
She fumbled about in obvious panic.
Perhaps she intended to claim that she had only been acting that way to comfort Daphne.
Medeia lowered her eyes and turned her head away, too tired to listen to another tearful excuse.
In front of her, the duchess had said that she loved Medeia more, while behind her back, she comforted Daphne and told her not to feel hurt.
She had even said that, although Daphne wasn’t her biological daughter, she loved her no differently.
Behind Medeia’s back, she was always showering Daphne with expensive gifts.
At the time, Medeia had thought they were simply gifts meant to console Daphne whenever she felt hurt.
Now she realized that the Duke and Duchess of Heidel genuinely cherished her.
No matter how much of a biological daughter Medeia was, she could never surpass Daphne, whom they had raised themselves for so many years.
‘Of course. They never intended to trust me from the beginning.’
They had judged her as having a sensitive personality simply because she refused to call Daphne “Sister” when their birthdays were only a week apart.
Perhaps Medeia should have simply shown them the basic courtesy they had shown her.
After all, they had done the same.
She had known, in truth.
She knew why the Duke of Heidel had not reacted like his wife, who had been crying as she embraced her.
Why he had been more concerned about his coughing wife than the daughter he had reunited with after thirteen years.
He had been suspicious of Medeia.
She understood that, after she had lost all her memories, it was difficult for him to trust her based solely on their similar appearance.
‘Vincent, what are you talking about? Don’t become too attached to Medeia?’
‘How could a five-year-old child have survived on her own? We have to keep in mind the possibility that she isn’t Medeia.’
A long time ago, when Medeia had accidentally overheard the Duke and Duchess of Heidel having that conversation, she had been deeply hurt.
The thirteen years she had lost could neither be filled nor returned to her.
If only they had continued searching for her.
If only she had returned to their arms sooner.
No.
If only they had never adopted Daphne.
Then she might never have died so pointlessly at Daphne’s hands.
But there was no point dwelling on such things.
Medeia had already died once.
And she had come back to life.
Clinging to time that had already passed was nothing but foolishness.
Medeia steadied her wavering heart.
The more she allowed herself to hope, the greater the disappointment that would come afterward.
The depth of that disappointment was like the deep sea, where no matter how desperately she struggled, she could never escape.
The moment she began to feel sympathy, she would start hoping again.
She would once again struggle to be loved.
So Medeia clenched her trembling hands and continued walking.
“You seem very composed, Lady Medeia.”
Sisanna, walking slightly behind her, murmured as though she admired her attitude.
“It would be disadvantageous if my emotions became visible in my behavior. I’m simply making an effort to appear that way.”
Sisanna seemed even more satisfied when Medeia did not become arrogant from the compliment.
When they went outside together, Sisanna guided her toward the carriage.
She opened the door, stepped aside, and held out her hand.
Medeia took Sisanna’s hand and climbed into the carriage.
The door immediately closed behind her.
A faint fragrance drifted from across the carriage and brushed against her breath.
It was a clear, cool scent, like seawater chilled to the bone.
Medeia turned her head.
She saw a pair of tranquil eyes looking down at her.
The gaze slowly swept over her like that of a predator studying its prey.
Facing him directly was far more oppressive than the brief glimpse she had caught earlier.
He was wearing a coat trimmed with silver fox fur and holding a cane engraved with a rose pattern.
His broad shoulders, sharply defined nose, and long, lowered eyelashes were so striking that she could hardly look away.
On top of that, there was an elegance and dignity befitting royalty.
His face was gentle.
Yet Medeia could not let her guard down.
“……I am Medeia Heidel of the Heidel ducal family. I pay my respects to the noble bloodline of Serenier. May the glory of Serenier accompany Your Highness, the Second Prince.”
There was no room to perform a proper curtsy inside the carriage, so Medeia bent her body as deeply as she could.
A low voice reached her ears.
“Since our eyes met earlier, I suppose it’s understandable that you weren’t surprised to see me.”
“…….”
“But how did a lady who has spent her entire life in Aragon know who I was?”
Medeia unconsciously raised her head.
Although the corners of his lips were curved upward, his eyes were not smiling at all.
“……I saw Your Highness from the balcony earlier. So I knew you had come here, which is why I wasn’t surprised.”
Medeia calmly answered, doing her best to hide her embarrassment.
Tap. Tap.
Pierre began tapping the velvet cushion at a steady rhythm.
Each time his long fingertips pressed against the cushion and lifted away, the veins on the back of his hand stood out.
“Lady Medeia. What I’m curious about isn’t why you weren’t surprised to see me.”
“…….”
“I’m asking how you recognized me. You’ve only just arrived from Aragon.”
He tilted his head slightly as he looked down at her, his gaze measuring her.
Beneath his long eyelashes, his blue eyes stared at her without the slightest tremor.
His refusal to press her for an answer somehow made it even harder for her to breathe.
The moment she met those eyes, she felt as though he could see straight through her.
‘……I made a mistake.’
She should have been more careful.
He was a man ruthless enough to pretend to be a cripple for his entire life.
She remembered Princess Charlotte’s warning.
‘She told me to be careful not to get bitten by a mad viper with deadly venom.’
So that was who she had meant.
The prince.
Pierre.
“……I’ve heard a lot about Your Highness from Princess Charlotte. And the two of you resemble each other.”
“My aunt and I?”
The only thing Pierre and Princess Charlotte could reasonably be said to share was their platinum-blond hair.
Perhaps that was why a faint, incredulous laugh colored his questioning voice.
It was a poor excuse.
But right now, under the weight of his oppressive presence, Medeia could barely breathe, let alone come up with a more convincing explanation.
“I’m hardly a nephew she particularly cherishes. What could she possibly have said so much about me?”
“……She called you a viper.”
“A viper?”
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
Perhaps he was intrigued, because his tapping fingers stopped.
“I…… I don’t have any memories from before I was five, so I’m worried because my Serenier is still poor after having to learn it so quickly. I hope you won’t misunderstand me.”
There was no way he would believe her if she claimed that Princess Charlotte had praised him.
When dealing with someone suspicious, a measured amount of honesty worked better than an awkward lie.
Medeia carefully chose her words, hoping to lower his guard even slightly.
“Oh.”
He let out a low exclamation, his eyes narrowing coldly.
“Even if we’re inside a carriage, surely you don’t think I would do anything to the daughter of the Heidel family while we’re at the ducal residence.”
A quiet laugh escaped him, accompanied by a short breath.
“You don’t need to be that tense.”
Only then did Medeia realize that she had been trembling.
She relaxed her body.
“Oh. Didn’t she also tell you to avoid meeting me as much as possible so you wouldn’t get bitten, and to stay away if our paths crossed?”
“…….”
“More precisely, she must have called me a ‘mad viper.’ Perhaps she was trying to be considerate because she thought you might be upset if you heard that.”
His whisper carried a tone of genuine interest, making Medeia freeze.
His gentle voice suddenly took on an entirely different intonation.
It was Aragonian.
The pronunciation he had just used……
