Late at night in the Gazard ducal estate, deep crimson slowly spread across the duchess’s darkened study.
“I’m sorry, Sister… I had no other choice…”
The trembling hands of Cordelia Gazard, the younger twin sister of Diana Gazard, Duchess of Gazard, were stained red. A dark stain spread across the expensive, thick-pile carpet. As it widened, warmth rapidly drained from Diana’s body.
“This is your fault, Sister… Your fault, Diana…!”
(Why, Cordelia…?)
The dagger Cordelia had held only moments before was buried deep in Diana’s abdomen. Blood continued to gush from the wound in heavy pulses. Diana could no longer give voice to the words she wished to say to her twin.
(Weren’t we two halves of the same soul—?)
The sister she had trusted was taking her life. That truth ate into Diana’s soul more viciously than the pain itself, leaving behind a darkness fouler than the carpet stained with her blood.
(Cordelia… Curse you, Cordelia…)
As her consciousness faded, the only person filling her final thoughts was the twin who had murdered her.
(I will never—forgive you!)
Thus, Diana Gazard’s brief life came to an end at the age of twenty-five—or so it should have.
Morning light streamed through the lace curtains. It was the usual hour and the same familiar view, yet Diana’s awakening was anything but refreshing.
“Cordeli…a?”
She murmured her twin’s name as though delirious, and her consciousness abruptly surfaced. Diana had awakened in her own room at the Gazard ducal estate in the royal capital—the room she knew so well. When she pushed herself upright, her body felt terribly heavy and sluggish.
(This is strange. Wasn’t I stabbed to death by Cordelia…?)
Her abdomen, which had been drenched in dark blood, was now covered by a clean nightgown.
Diana rose from the bed and approached the full-length mirror. Ever since inheriting her title, relentless work and emotional strain had left her skin rough and dark circles beneath her eyes. Yet the Diana reflected in the mirror was young, her fair skin so firm and supple that it seemed it would spring beneath a fingertip.
“What is this…?”
Long silver hair. Purple eyes that gleamed like amethysts. Plump, rosy cheeks and lustrous lips. The face that so closely resembled her twin sister Cordelia’s was Diana’s own appearance from years ago.
“Sister, are you still asleep?!”
The door flew open, and someone who was the spitting image of the woman in the mirror rushed inside. Her wide amethyst eyes blinked, and a vivacious smile graced her lips.
It was Cordelia, Diana’s younger twin sister—the woman who, in Diana’s memories, had stabbed her to death.
“Oh, you’re already awake. Hurry, let’s have breakfast.”
Cordelia spoke as casually as ever. She, too, looked much younger than Diana remembered. When she noticed Diana staring at her in stunned silence, Cordelia pursed her lips.
“Come on. Today is our graduation ceremony. We need to eat and get ready quickly.”
The graduation ceremony was held for students completing their studies at the Royal Academy. The children of Rutledge Kingdom’s nobility graduated from the academy in the spring of their eighteenth year. Once honored at the ceremony, they were formally recognized as adults.
That ceremony was supposedly taking place today.
“Now, hurry and change so we can have breakfast.”
The expression Cordelia directed at Diana was one that had always been etched into her memory: an unclouded smile belonging to the other half of her soul, from whom she had never spent a moment apart since birth. It was a smile brimming with wholehearted trust, one Cordelia showed only to Diana.
(Was all of that… a dream?)
Even as she ate, the events of that night refused to leave Diana’s mind. The pain of being stabbed, the searing turmoil inside her, the blood she had spilled, and the sensation of warmth slowly leaving her body—all of it remained vividly engraved upon her.
If it had truly been a dream, then Diana possessed an imagination capable of soaring into remarkably fantastical realms. Unfortunately, Diana was a practical woman who lived with both feet firmly planted on the ground.
Once they finished eating, tea and dessert were brought into the dining room. It was an ordinary scene at the ducal estate. As the maids poured the tea and arranged the cake plates, Cordelia smiled proudly.
“I baked pound cake for the first time in ages.”
“—!”
At the words “pound cake,” Diana’s body trembled. Her stomach clenched, and nausea surged within her. When a sour taste filled her mouth, she swallowed it back with a sip of tea.
“I think I’ll pass on the pound cake…”
“But it’s your favorite, Sister.”
“Well, I’ll be wearing a dress today, so… I’m a little worried about my waist.”
“My, my, Sister.”
Cordelia giggled brightly. Once, that smile had soothed Diana. She had never realized how much hatred lay hidden behind it.
Diana’s husband, Miles, had been her close friend since childhood. He knew both twins well and was one of the few people who never treated Diana and Cordelia differently.
As the eldest daughter of House Gazard, Diana was required to take a husband into her family and inherit the title of Duchess of Gazard. Miles was the second son of the Marquess of O’Donoghue and therefore had no title to inherit from his own family. Although neither of them harbored romantic feelings for the other, they knew each other well. Diana had believed he was the ideal person with whom to enter a marriage.
The Marchioness of O’Donoghue had been frail from birth, and it was believed that bearing children would be difficult for her. Even knowing that, Miles’s elder brother, the Marquess of O’Donoghue, had pursued her passionately and eventually won her heart. Their ardent romance had set high society abuzz at the time.
Because of those circumstances, it had been agreed that Diana and Miles’s first child would inherit the Gazard dukedom. Their second child would be adopted by Miles’s elder brother and sister-in-law and inherit the O’Donoghue marquessate.
Yet despite three pregnancies, not one of the children destined for such a bright future had ever been born.
The doctors attributed Diana’s miscarriages to overwork and emotional strain. There was, however, something she had been unwilling to acknowledge at the time. Now that she knew Cordelia had wanted her dead, certain details stood out.
Three miscarriages.
Every one of them had occurred after Diana ate baked treats Cordelia brought her.
The pound cake before her dragged those memories back to the surface. Cordelia had always delivered the treats with a smile. How much hatred had she concealed behind it?
After the repeated miscarriages, Diana’s relationship with Miles deteriorated. Theirs had been an arranged marriage between friends from the beginning, and there had never been love between them. Even so, Diana had believed their friendship was real.
“I never should have married a woman incapable of bearing children.”
The words Miles had spat at her as he left the Gazard ducal estate came rushing back. The miscarriages had not only prevented Diana from fulfilling her promise to House O’Donoghue; they had also destroyed her marriage to Miles.
(Miles never wanted to marry me. He only wanted a woman who would bear his children…)
The husband who had vowed to spend his life with her had abandoned her, and the twin sister who had remained by her side since birth had murdered her.
Could any life have been more miserable?
(I don’t know whether that was a dream or reality. I don’t know, but—)
There was one thing she knew for certain.
“Sister?”
Cordelia’s smile was like a flower in bloom. Once, Diana had believed she could do anything to protect that smile.
But the foolish, pitiful Diana no longer existed.
She would never again be deceived by that smile.
She would live her own life.
From that day forward, Diana Gazard was reborn.
