Chapter 3
She said “Father.” Not “Daddy,” “Scammer,” or “Snake” but “Father”!
“Perhaps it’s something about my marriage or your marriage, some sort of talk to distract us. And he’ll probably talk about Caspar. I’m not sure about the exact instructions since I didn’t hear them myself.”
“Lord Nine is coming today…?”
Ah, no way, right? It’s early March now. The capital should be full of clueless rookie bureaucrats selected at the year-end ball last year, right?
At such a time when nothing is known yet, they’re probably searching for threats in advance, and if they don’t find any, they’ll create them while being stuck in the capital?
Unless something serious happens, the chances of the viscount suddenly coming here are slim, but for now, I’ll just play along with the lady’s words.
“I see. So, the lady’s marriage is scheduled. I suppose it’s about time such talk came up for me too.”
“It’s not scheduled. It’s just going to happen.”
“Oh, I see.”
Well, whether it’s the lady or the count, they hardly have any say in their marriage partners or wedding schedules, so I guess that’s how you can put it.
The lady looked into the eyes behind my mask with a thoughtful expression and shook her head lightly.
“No, you’ll have to experience Father for yourself to understand. You won’t believe me no matter what I say now. I’ll talk to you about it later when the time comes. It’s not too late yet.”
Still speaking cryptically, the lady got up from her seat and walked towards me. Before I could react, she grabbed my forearm and gently pulled me towards her, positioning me in front of her.
Suddenly, we found ourselves facing the full-length mirror together, with our reflections staring back at us. In an instant, a pale, ghost-like hand reached out from behind my ear.
Instinctively, I leaned back slightly, expecting the cold touch of the hand to brush against my ear and into my field of vision…
…and my field of vision slowly expanded.
The thin silver mask, which had always covered my face from morning until bedtime, had been removed by the hand of the person who first put it on me five years ago.
It felt strange. The suffocating mask had become a natural part of my identity over the years. Without it, I felt oddly exposed to the world, like a shield had been taken away.
“Hanon, describe what you look like.”
And then, I closed my eyes tightly at the following words.
Confession time. After so long, sharing something resembling a proper conversation with the lady made me feel either complacent or hopeful, one of the two.
Whether it’s the impending marriage or last night’s nightmare, it doesn’t matter. Any catalyst might have caused Eve Rose to change.
Perhaps, just perhaps, we could entertain the fanciful notion that we could get along as we did when we first met…
“Command. Open your eyes.”
I slowly, very slowly, opened my eyes.
Eve Rose Nine dislikes me.
More precisely, she covets many things that make up who I am, and whenever she realizes that it’s impossible to attain them, she can’t suppress her anger.
As we learn and age together,
As Eve Rose becomes increasingly aware of her own exceptional beauty,
I’ve learned, along with her punishments, how to diminish and obscure the version of myself that stands beside Eve Rose.
…Enough. Behold the fruits of my perpetual learning.
“My name is Hanon. With just a slight opening, I catch onto words and make trivial matters tiresome. I don’t know when to stop advising without knowing the subject, and I feign pity to gain people’s favor…”
“Leave that aside. Your face.”
“Yes. Hanon often forgets her position and still lacks diligence, hence the pallor.”
I’ll say it again. There is no emotion in any of these words. It’s just reciting and echoing what has been memorized, like an emotionless doll.
“Hanon’s hair is a common, faded yellow. Her eyes are the shade of moss-covered marshes, completely different from the noble platinum or sharp jade of the lady. I’ve never thought they were the same.”
That’s not true. Deep honey-colored blonde is actually quite rare in Rosellote. My eyes are closer to the color of spring shoots or clear green tea.
I tried to hide my expression by lowering my gaze. Then, the lady’s hand gently grasped my chin, exerting a slight pressure.
I briefly considered resisting, but it was pointless. It would only prolong the torment.
As I relaxed, our faces were reflected side by side in the mirror once again. Eve Rose whispered in my ear.
“No. Everything you’ve said so far has been wrong. Your eyes, nose, mouth… Hanon, haven’t you noticed something?”
I do. There’s no way I wouldn’t. But I can’t say it aloud. That’s why the lady covered my face with a mask.
But today, the lady was truly strange. Holding my chin, preventing me from turning my head, she continued speaking rhythmically.
“We really look like twins.”
* * *
Clang, clang, clank.
“Hmm. Hmm.”
Clang, clank, clank, clang-clang.
“Hmm! Ahem!”
“Marigold, if you’re feeling thirsty, how about some elderflower tea? Margaret from the laundry has prepared some.”
“I don’t need it, Madam. And Hanon?”
“….”
“Hanon. Ahem! Hanon!”
“…Yes? Yes.”
Lost in thought while crushing flower petals for the beauty salon, I was jolted back to reality by a fierce bout of coughing.
Marigold, the lady’s maid and now my caretaker, looked at me with concern.
“You weren’t present-minded since you opened the door this morning, why have you been so absent-minded? Did the lady torment you again?”
“….”
“Oh dear, here we go again.”
“My goodness.”
I picked it up. I’ll just have to crush it again.
As I fixed the mortar and looked at the bowl where the petals had been, hmm. There was only remnants of what used to be petals. I must have crushed them too hard.
Clatter.
Along with the deliberately made light sound, a plain teacup was placed in front of me.
“The chamomile from the kitchen, dried by Juniper. Please enjoy.”
As Marigold passed by, her pristine gloves lightly touched the moistened edge of the teacup, releasing a fragrant steam from the now cleaned cup.
It was Ivan’s consideration.
“Ivan, thank you. I’ll enjoy this.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
He nodded lightly, then tied back his shoulder-length silver hair neatly and began polishing the silverware.
I brought the cup closer to my nose. Ah, it’s warm. The tension in my head dissolved with the warmth mixed with the scent of flowers.
I don’t remember at all how I opened the door to the lady’s room earlier. Did I greet her? Did I bring her change of clothes? I’m not sure because I was absent-minded.
Oh, the mask. Did I wear the mask properly when I came out?!
I hastily put down the teacup and felt the lukewarm texture of the mask with my face.
Thank goodness. I did wear it when I came out.
I felt the thin mask. The contoured eye sockets and the shape of the nose slipped under the fingers warmed by the teacup. Yes, the lady was right.
I resemble Eve Rose Nine in many ways. When we were young, the resemblance was subtle, but as she developed freckles around her eyes and my eye color lightened, the similarity in our features became more apparent.
Her tyrannical temperament developed from a young age, so even during the relatively pleasant times when she somewhat liked me, it was more like playing with a lifelike doll resembling herself.
However, as rumors spread throughout the mansion about the striking similarity between us, she gradually began to resent me, despite receiving awkward kindness at first.
Eventually, a few years ago, she ordered me never to reveal my face anywhere and insisted on wearing a silver mask until bedtime.
Perhaps she wanted to disfigure my face or drive me to live miserably.
But even if it meant wearing such a mask, she had to keep me by her side because Lord Inaian, her father and the one who decided to keep me as a maid, did not allow otherwise.
“Of course, because of that, unnecessary misunderstandings and resentment piled up…”
Ultimately, the young tyrant from the border threw away any joy she might have found in distant relatives, empathy for those who lost everything, and even my budding affection into the trash.
I wondered what value my gradually warming feelings toward her, who seemed to be doing her best in her own way despite her awkwardness in dealing with people, could have had.
“Tea tastes bitter when it’s cold.”
A quiet voice intruded into the contemplation. It was Ivan.
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