Chapter 97
Yulia walked slowly down the corridor, her head slightly tilted in thought.
A strange feeling tugged at her, and she kept glancing over her shoulder before finally returning to her bedroom.
Now that her plan to spend time in the library had evaporated, she wasn’t sure what to do next.
Sitting quietly on the edge of the bed, she found her mind drifting—back to that letter that had long made her uneasy.
The one from Vanosa. Most likely sent by her mother.
Yulia had been subconsciously on edge, anticipating when the next letter might arrive.
Fidgeting with the bedspread, lost in thought, she eventually stood up.
She had intended to go out for a walk in the rear garden to clear her head—but just as she neared the door, there was a knock.
“Your Highness, it’s Judy. May I come in?”
Recognizing the familiar voice, Yulia responded right away.
“Yes, come in.”
Judy hurried inside, bowing as she entered. In her hands was a letter.
It was the very thing that had been weighing on Yulia’s mind.
“Another letter arrived from Vanosa. Actually, two this time.”
She approached and handed them over. Yulia accepted them, her expression stiffening.
She had expected more letters to come, but now that they were in her hands, anxiety gnawed at her.
Tearing open the first envelope, she began to read.
As her eyes moved down the page, her expression wavered—and then crumbled.
…Mother.
The letter said her mother was gravely ill.
That she might not last long—and that all she wanted was to see her daughter one last time.
The unexpected news left Yulia pale with shock.
With trembling hands, she opened the second letter.
It contained only an address:
[Building No. 3, Ollin Street, Vanosa.]
Yulia clenched the letter in her hand and looked away.
If her mother had only written out of longing, perhaps she wouldn’t have felt so shaken.
But now—she was sick.
Yulia had always imagined her mother was living well somewhere far away. To hear she was dying—it was devastating.
She couldn’t ignore it. Not when it was her mother—the one she had longed for in silence all these years.
She had to go to her.
But…
“Can you promise me you won’t go anywhere while I’m gone?”
She recalled Fernan’s words from just yesterday. She had promised him—promised not to leave the estate.
She didn’t understand why he had seemed so anxious about it, but she had wanted to wait for him like he asked.
Yulia lowered her gaze. A day had passed—Fernan wouldn’t return for another three.
She could wait, ask his permission, and explain.
But if she did… she would have to tell him where she was going.
And that might lead him to the truth—that she was an illegitimate child.
What should I do…?
Yulia gripped the letter tighter, consumed with dread.
She did believe in Fernan’s sincerity—his affection, his warmth.
Maybe… maybe even if he found out, he would accept her.
But that was just a hope—not certainty.
If even a sliver of doubt proved true… if he rejected her, Yulia knew she wouldn’t be able to bear it.
If those loving eyes turned cold again…
She bit her lip and paced in a tight circle, thoughts spiraling.
At last, she let out a heavy sigh and stood still.
Then, with a half-hardened expression, she walked into her dressing room.
Yes—she had to see her mother before Fernan returned.
Only then could her heart rest.
Vanosa was a village located near the heart of the empire, a small domain tucked between larger territories.
At the edge of the village’s modest town square was a flower shop—once run by Yulia’s mother.
She vaguely remembered being told her mother had inherited the shop from her grandfather after his passing.
From then on, she had raised her daughter alone, supporting them through the shop.
Yulia didn’t remember much—she had been so young—but the scent of flowers that always lingered around her mother had stayed with her.
Every time she saw flowers, it was her mother she thought of.
With those memories swirling in her mind, Yulia sat silently in the carriage, waiting for her destination to come into view.
Leaving the estate had been surprisingly easy.
When she mentioned going out, several knights offered to accompany her. But when she politely declined, they didn’t push.
What she didn’t know was that those same knights were now secretly following her at a distance.
With no maid beside her, the carriage was quiet—and the silence only added to her unease.
The journey passed in tense stillness until the carriage finally crossed into the outskirts of a nearby province.
Yulia peeked through the curtain covering the window.
It had been about three hours since leaving the Grand Duke’s estate. They had moved swiftly—and she figured they must be nearing Vanosa.
Sure enough, the carriage entered a familiar street.
Faded buildings, a sunlit clearing, and a weathered stone statue…
Suddenly, she remembered it clearly—the half-wolf statue that had once scared her as a child.
This is it. This is Vanosa.
“Building No. 3, Ollin Street…”
She spotted a sign: “Ollin.”
Moments later, the carriage came to a stop.
The coachman promptly opened the door.
Yulia stepped out and looked briefly around the quiet street before making her way to the address without hesitation.
The main gate stood open, and there didn’t appear to be anyone standing guard.
She crossed a small courtyard and knocked on the front door.
It opened with a bang.
A young woman—likely a servant—stood inside.
Her eyes widened for a moment before she asked in an oddly gentle tone,
“Are you the one who received the letter? Madame René’s daughter?”
“Ah… Yes,” Yulia replied, quickly pulling out the letter to show her.
After glancing at it, the woman smiled strangely and opened the door wider.
“Come in. Madame René has been waiting.”
René. That was her mother’s name.
Hearing it from a stranger made the meeting feel suddenly real.
And it made her worry—how unwell was her mother, really?
The woman led her up the creaking stairs to the second floor.
“Madame is in here. She’s been waiting so desperately to see you.”
She stopped in front of a door and gestured.
Yulia stared at the door, then slowly reached out.
The handle turned with a creak—and the room came into view.
At the far end of the room, someone lay on the bed, completely covered by a blanket.
Yulia stepped inside carefully.
Then—
Click!
The door slammed shut behind her. The sound of a lock turning rang out like a gunshot.
“…?”
Startled, she turned around.
In that instant, men leapt out from behind the room dividers on either side.
They seized her arms and held her tightly.
“Ah!”
Before she could scream, a rough cloth clamped over her mouth.
She kicked and struggled, but the men held her down with brute force.
The woman on the bed pulled down the blanket with a deliberate, smooth motion.
No… No!
Yulia’s eyes widened in disbelief.
The woman beneath the blanket wasn’t her mother.
It was her stepmother—Marchioness Elodie.
“It’s been a while, Yulia.”
Her sweet voice sent chills down Yulia’s spine.
Elodie slowly approached, her face calm and cruel.
Yulia was forced to her knees, a hand yanking her head up by the hair.
With a vicious grin, Elodie muttered,
“Still so pretty. The Duke must be spoiling you well, hm?”
As if disgusted by the thought, she gripped Yulia’s hair tighter.
Yulia flinched in pain, trying to pull away—but the men holding her wouldn’t let go.
Whatever was on the cloth over her mouth, it had a drugging effect.
Her vision began to blur.
Even as the Marchioness turned her face this way and that, whispering more venom, Yulia’s strength faded.
The last thing she saw was Elodie’s gloating face—then everything went black.
