Chapter 85
So, Duchess, Will You Be My Friend?
“Ah, what a relief.”
“So, Duchess… will you be my friend?”
“…Me?”
“Ah, or is it too difficult for a duchess to be friends with a commoner like me?”
“No, that’s not the problem. It’s just… we’ve only met three times, so it feels a little sudden.”
“Does the number of meetings matter when making friends? To be honest, I don’t just want to be friends with you—I want us to be sisters, like you and Zelda. Would that be alright?”
“…Sisters?”
Marican blinked at her, startled.
“Am I rushing too much? Truth is, ever since our last meeting, I’ve liked you so much. I was envious of how close you were to Zelda. So please, can’t I also become your sister?”
Hah… just like last time, she’s really straightforward.
Marican hesitated, unsure how to answer, then gave a small nod.
“Becoming sisters isn’t a problem… but shouldn’t we at least take some time to know each other better first?”
“Really? You’ll truly be my sister?”
“No, I mean—not right this instant, but…”
Her words trailed off. Risha’s expression had lit up with so much joy that Marican couldn’t bring herself to dampen it.
Well… she has been away from home for over a year. No wonder she’s lonely.
Marican thought of Zelda—how she had taken care of her back in the village of Phenomenon.
“I’m twenty-one years old. What about you, Risha?”
“I’m twenty-two, a year older than you.”
“Then you’re the same age as Zelda. In that case, can I call you ‘Sister Risha’?”
Risha’s face shone, and she clasped Marican’s hand tightly.
“Of course you can! Then we’re sisters from now on, right?”
“Eh? Ah… yes. Starting today, we’re sisters. Sister Risha.”
Risha wanted to say more, but when she glanced at the clock, her face fell with regret.
“Duchess, I need to go now. Let’s meet here again in three days. I’ll bring you a gift to celebrate becoming sisters.”
“A gift? You don’t need to do that.”
“Yes, I do. Well then, I’ll see you in three days!”
With that, Risha hurried out of the dessert shop.
Ha… Zelda was right. She really is a strange one.
Marican always felt oddly drained after spending time with her.
***
Two days later, Kymon and Diamond were executed in public before a great crowd.
Unlike Kymon, who cursed the Emperor until his final breath, Diamond moved like a hollow shell, blank-eyed, letting the guards drag him to his death.
The people whispered that he must have lost his mind at the thought of execution.
But only one man knew the truth—Ruan, who stood quietly among the onlookers. Diamond had indeed been broken under heavy torture, but at Crown Prince Harmon’s request, Ruan had at least allowed him to walk to the scaffold on his own two feet. That alone, he thought, was more mercy than the man deserved.
At noon, the sentence was carried out. Their bodies were taken far outside the capital and left on a mountain for the beasts.
When Empress Antwat heard the news, she fainted. Upon waking, she clung to the bars of her tower prison, spewing curses against the Emperor, the Crown Prince, and Ruan. But no one offered her a single word of comfort.
Marican did not witness the execution herself, but she read of it in the Imperial Gazette. For a moment, she thought of Lucianne.
She so desperately wanted to become Crown Princess… How must she feel now?
Then she shook her head.
Well, that’s her business, not mine.
She folded the paper, dismissing Lucianne from her mind.
***
With Kymon and Diamond gone, the empire began to shift.
Crown Prince Harmon, now openly supported by Emperor Viseluc, began taking an active role in imperial affairs. In the absence of an Empress, his mother, Consort Fione, assumed the duties of a Regent Empress, solidifying his position further.
Around that time, an announcement spread through the newspapers: in three weeks, the Crown Princess—Princess Patricia of Allomande—would host her very first imperial ball since her marriage.
The next day, Marican arrived early at the dessert shop, ordering cookies, cakes, and tea. Soon, Risha entered.
“Sister Risha, over here!”
Risha hurried over, smiling brightly.
“You’re right on time again, Duchess.”
“‘Duchess’? We agreed to be sisters. Call me Marican, and speak to me comfortably.”
“But… you’re a noble, and I’m just a commoner. That doesn’t feel right.”
Marican sipped her tea and smiled.
“If you insist on that, then we can’t be sisters. I call you Sister Risha, so you must call me Marican.”
“…Really? Are you sure?”
“Of course.”
“…Then… Marican.”
“Yes, Sister.”
At Marican’s warm reply, Risha blushed, then pulled something from her chest pocket—a pendant.
“Take this.”
“…What is it?”
“It’s proof that you and I are sisters now.”
“A token?”
Marican turned it over in her hand. It was a round silver pendant, engraved with the image of a hawk clutching a black rose. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and it clearly wasn’t ordinary. She looked at Risha uneasily.
“This looks very precious. Are you sure I can accept it?”
“Of course. I’m giving it to my sister. In my family, this pendant is only given to someone truly precious. I altered it a little—the original only had the hawk, but I added the rose, and engraved your name on the back. See? This one is mine.”
She showed an identical pendant hanging around her own neck.
“Even so, it feels too valuable. I’ll feel burdened.”
“Don’t. Marican, this pendant means you’re my sister—and part of my family now. You have every right to it.”
“…Sister.”
Marican, touched by her sincerity, tucked the pendant carefully into her gown.
“I’ll treasure it, Sister Risha.”
Risha smiled in satisfaction.
***
On the carriage ride back to the palace, Lady Lara frowned at Patricia.
“Your Highness, are you truly going through with this… this sisterhood? And you even gave her the pendant? That pendant carries deep meaning! She may not understand it now, but if she ever learns its true significance, what if she misuses it?”
“Don’t worry. Marican would never do such a thing.”
Patricia’s calm voice silenced Lara, though she muttered under her breath.
“Sometimes, I really don’t understand what you’re thinking.”
“Enough, Lara. Let’s return. I have duties this afternoon.”
The carriage rolled on.
***
A few days later, Ruan fulfilled his promise to Marican, arranging tutors for her education.
“This is Master Dohemian, a renowned Imperial historian—and once the Duke’s own teacher. He will teach you history.” Edward introduced the kindly, silver-haired man.
“Ruan… never cared for women. Yet he chose someone so lovely and bright. I’m honored to meet you, my lady. I am Dohemian.”
“Please take care of me, Master. I know almost nothing of the empire’s history.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you enjoy learning it.”
He clasped her hand warmly. True to his word, his lessons were clear and engaging, and before long, Marican was captivated by the history of the empire.
Alongside this, she also began etiquette training under Marchioness Gabriel Hesiar, a stern woman and Olivia’s close friend, once the chief instructor of court etiquette.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” Gabriel said with a sharp, critical gaze.
Marican bowed her head. “I… I know I lack much in manners. Please guide me.”
“First lesson: a future duchess should not bow to just anyone. Remember that.”
From there, Gabriel drilled her in greetings, posture, and behavior.
But Marican absorbed it quickly. Thanks to overhearing Lucianne’s lessons as a child, much of it came back to her with ease.
Soon, she found herself enjoying the challenge—spending long hours in the garden with books, more than with the household.
“My lady, please come down from the tree and put away the book,” Charles called.
“I just need a little more time. I have homework to finish. Did something happen?”
“No, but everyone is worried because you’re always buried in books.”
“Tell them not to worry. I’ll be down soon.”
She popped a cookie into her mouth and bent back over her history book.
***
“…What did you just say?”
At the palace, Consort Fione frowned as she sipped tea with her brother, Marquis Dominic Repaid.
“Now is the time! The Empress will never return to her seat. Her father and son are both dead—who is left to save her? Naturally, you should ascend as Empress in her place.”
“…Empress?”
Fione’s face tightened. Antwat had been locked in the tower for only a handful of days, yet Dominic was already pressing for her replacement.
She remembered—he had always craved power. It was through his maneuvering that she had been married off as a political pawn to Viseluc.
And now, with Kymon and Diamond dead, he was practically drooling over the vacant throne.
“Brother, I have no desire to become Empress.”
“What are you saying? The mighty Graft family has fallen, and now the Repaid family represents the Imperial faction. Soon we’ll be granted the rank of dukedom. It’s only natural that you rise as Empress. Think of Crown Prince Harmon! He will be Emperor. How absurd would it be for his mother to remain merely Consort?”
Fione’s eyes grew cold.
“Brother. Remember your words just now. Even the great Graft family, which seemed unshakable, crumbled easily enough. Are you trying to make our family into the next Graft?”
Her voice cut like ice. Dominic faltered under her gaze.
