Episode 11. Happiness Built on Lies
Sola told a passing maid, “If the Duke of Stroud looks for me, tell him I went out.”
Then she slipped outside.
No one was asking her for help, and there wasn’t any work for her to do, so she thought she might as well enjoy herself.
But ever since she arrived in this world, she hadn’t really gone anywhere alone… and now that she finally had the chance, she realized she didn’t know what to do.
“I don’t even have anywhere to go.”
Shopping? Impossible—she was wearing a servant’s clothes, so she wouldn’t be treated properly in the fancy shops.
Eating something nice? She hated the idea of sitting alone in a restaurant, with people whispering about her.
In the end, she decided to go to the slums—to the little house where Morant was.
On the way, she bought freshly baked bread for him.
Not really out of affection, but out of guilt.
She was living as his sister, borrowing that identity, and the least she could do was bring something.
When she arrived, the place looked exactly the same as when she had left.
The dusty vegetable shelf, the dried-up flowers in a cracked vase…
At least the local doctor still stopped by to check on Morant every day.
That was something.
She opened the door to the stuffy little room.
Morant was lying in bed, sweating.
He turned his head and widened his eyes when he saw her.
“Cough… sis?”
“How’s your body? Any better?”
“You’re really here…”
His tear-filled eyes trembled.
His sister had always been there to hold his hand when he was sick, so every night without her had been full of lonely pain.
“I missed you so much, sis.”
His weak, scratchy voice tugged at her chest.
Feeling guilty, Sola quickly showed him the bread she’d brought.
“I bought this for you. Can you eat a little?”
“Yeah… cough… I think so.”
Morant forced himself to sit up.
Sola hesitated, then slipped an arm around him to help.
His sweaty skin made her uncomfortable, but the joy on his face kept her from pulling away.
He ate the bread very slowly, piece by piece.
Between bites, he talked about little things—how he’d been, how boring the days were.
Now and then, he added, “It’s so good,” or, “I’m happy you came, sis.”
Those words made Sola uneasy.
They felt heavy.
While she cleared away the tray, Morant’s happiness faded.
The thought of her leaving again—and him being left alone—darkened his face.
“Sis… do you have to keep living at the Duke’s mansion?”
Bringing him some water, Sola sat down on a chair by his bed.
“Yeah. I think I’ll be staying there for a while.”
“I’ve been sick every day lately… can’t you just stay with me?”
“If I stay there a little longer, you’ll get better treatment than what this local doctor can do. And if things go well, maybe I can even bring you to the mansion.”
Morant’s eyes clouded with sadness.
“How long would that take?”
“Maybe… two months?”
“…”
Morant didn’t care about “later.” For him, only now mattered.
He could die tomorrow—what use was a rosy future?
But he couldn’t throw a tantrum.
He knew how hard his sister worked for him.
Seeing his silence, Sola felt guilty and rushed to explain.
“I’m not abandoning you, Morant. This is really important for both of us. For our future.”
“I know… I know how much you do for me. Thank you, sis.”
Morant squeezed her hand gently.
She was his only family.
Even if he wanted to beg her to stay, he swallowed it down.
Sola looked at him, forcing a smile.
The warmth in his eyes was something she had never received in her past life, and it unsettled her.
She stayed until he fell asleep, then left the house with a heavy heart.
Yes, she was “loved by everyone” in the mansion.
That made her happy.
But when she thought about it, she hadn’t really achieved anything.
Only one thing was true: Morant loved his sister with all his heart.
That’s why she felt so guilty.
“I need to tell them the truth soon… that I’m actually a woman.”
If she revealed it quickly, maybe this uneasy feeling would go away.
And if she could bring Morant to the mansion and get him treated, both of them could finally live better lives.
For everyone to be happy, this was the only way.
So she swallowed her resentment toward Ryan and headed to the most famous bakery in town.
If she brought him a sweet gift and smiled brightly, maybe his heart would soften faster.
Meanwhile, Ryan had tossed his documents aside and lay sprawled on the sofa.
He tried to ignore it, but Morant’s tearful face as he left kept replaying in his mind.
“Why does that brat bother me so much?”
Even worse, his wife’s voice echoed in his head.
“You’re amazing, my lord.”
“Only you could do something like this.”
“I want to help you.”
Ryan scratched at his ear, as if he could dig the memories out.
That’s when a knight outside announced:
“The Duchess is here.”
His burning face instantly froze cold.
The door opened. His wife stepped inside gracefully, bowing like a true noblewoman.
Ryan felt his chest tighten.
She was a real aristocrat by birth, unlike him.
Her poise and elegance were natural—she didn’t have to force them.
For a split second, he wondered what it would be like if Violetta had Morant’s personality.
The thought thrilled him… but also crushed him.
Because that would never happen, not unless someone else lived inside her body.
The next day, I (Violetta) was busy from morning.
I prepared extra drinks for the knights, handled unfinished paperwork Ryan left behind, and for lunch, just nibbled on fruit and cheese.
Then I had to rush to the port.
By the time everything was done, I finally found a moment to breathe.
I sat under the big tree in the garden, at a white table, watching the sunset turn the sky red.
The head maid left, saying she’d fetch the nanny, and I was alone at last.
The peace felt so sweet after such a long day.
Then—
“Violetta.”
Startled, I looked up. Hilbardo was there.
I quickly stood and bowed.
“Your Highness.”
He waved it off and came closer.
“Sorry for disturbing your rest.”
“It’s fine.”
He ordered his men to stay back.
One of them caught my eye—green short hair tied like a horse’s tail.
“That’s Sir Ohil, right? The one you said you trusted most.”
“Yes.”
I hesitated. “Is he from Pardia?”
“Why do you think that?”
I remembered a tall boy from my childhood—always bruised, always challenging others to spar.
“He looks like the son of the weapon shop owner on Menden Street.”
Hilbardo chuckled.
“So you recognized him. Ohil will be pleased.”
It really was him—the boy who had always bragged he’d be the Empire’s best knight.
He lost every time to Hilbardo, but never gave up.
“He’s changed so much.”
“Time does that.”
I found myself staring at Hilbardo.
He hadn’t changed at all.
“You’ve changed, too,” he said. “You’re thinner now. Enough that I notice.”
“I’ve just been busy, that’s all.”
Our eyes met.
His blue eyes were sharp, searching me, almost too intense.
“Violetta.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“If you want… I can send you back to Pardia.”
I froze.
“If it’s what you wish, I’ll do anything. I’ll bring you back to before the marriage, to those days on Menden Street, when you were truly happy.”
“…I am happy now.”
“I don’t believe you.”
His face, under the crimson sunset, was dark—like the shadow of happiness built on lies.
I pressed my lips together, unable to answer.
He knew too well how things really were for me here.
His gaze cut deep, making me feel both exposed and ashamed.
