The royal ball came to an abrupt end not long after I fled to the balcony. My body shivered like a leaf in the wind from the cold, but my chaotic mind was too loud to let me go back inside. A part of me was also terrified of running into Armin Grey by chance.
Just as I was about to freeze solid from the chill, the balcony door swung open.
It was Sasha who appeared, but his expression was anything but calm. Striding toward me, he began interrogating me without preamble.
“Vivian, what did you do?”
“What? Wh-what do you mean? Haha, why are you asking me that all of a sudden?”
They say a guilty conscience needs no accuser, and my faltering words gave me away. Sasha’s sharp eyes narrowed as he thrust something in front of me.
It was my shawl—the one I had been wearing earlier. Its familiar, soft fabric brought an immediate sense of dread.
“Then why is Armin Grey the one bringing this back?”
There was no respect in Sasha’s tone for the heir to the Grey Duchy. Given his mild but evident sister complex, it was no surprise that Sasha, who already didn’t like Armin, would feel even less pleased about this turn of events.
“Uh… uh…?”
I stammered, caught off guard, as Sasha stepped closer.
“Why is Armin Grey returning your shawl? You must have done something, right? Spill it. Don’t try to hide it and make things harder to fix later.”
His serious tone made me flinch.
“He brought it back? He did?”
I was completely baffled by this unexpected development and stared at Sasha. He too seemed taken aback, though he tried to mask it.
“Yeah. He said he found it in the hallway and brought it over. So, what’s going on?”
Should I tell him the truth? Or keep it to myself? A whirlwind of conflicting thoughts raced through my mind in that fleeting moment.
‘Right. Come to think of it, he doesn’t seem like the type to report me to the Inquisitors over reading a book, does he? Sure, he’s a bit unusual, but what’s the big deal, really?’
I ultimately chose the latter. The fact that he’d gone out of his way to return my shawl felt like a positive sign. Besides, confessing now would only lead to a marathon of scolding from Sasha. If I could get through this moment, everything might blow over without incident.
“Ah, I must have dropped it while running. He must have picked it up and brought it back! See? Turns out he’s a nice person after all, despite what you say.”
“Nice? Are we talking about the same Armin Grey? Do you think that man looks like someone who would pick up something off the ground for anyone?”
“Well, I wouldn’t know, since I’ve never met him before. Oh, wow, it’s so cold! Can we go home now? Ah… ah-choo!”
I exaggerated my reaction, letting out a sneeze as if the cold had finally gotten to me. Truthfully, the chill was biting, but I played it up for effect.
Sasha’s skepticism faded from his face, replaced by concern. My brother, ever convinced of my frailty, immediately fussed over me.
“Of course you’re sneezing! You’ve been out here with nothing on! Come here.”
He quickly draped the shawl over my shoulders. Though I was genuinely cold, I made a show of shivering more dramatically to distract him from any lingering thoughts about Armin Grey.
Completely taken in by my performance, Sasha quickly instructed the servants to prepare the carriage so we could leave.
Even in the carriage, I pretended to fall asleep, feigning exhaustion. It was the best strategy to avoid Sasha’s keen eyes and further questioning.
* * *
A few days passed, and an uneasy peace settled over me.
Since the royal ball ended, I had been plagued by nightmares about Armin Grey. Over and over, I relived the terror of being trapped in that oddly shaped room with him, just the two of us staring at each other in suffocating silence.
The nightmares drained me. My face grew pale and gaunt, causing my mother and father to regret sending me to the ball. Sasha, too, seemed to feel guilty for pestering me about finding a husband.
I stayed holed up in my room, using illness as an excuse not to step outside. The fear of Armin Grey lingered. Every time the front door creaked open, I braced myself, dreading the possibility of Inquisitors barging in to take me away.
But as they say, humans are creatures of adaptation.
By the time a week had passed without incident, the tension in my chest began to ease. Slowly but surely, I felt a little more at peace. Around this time, I even resumed indulging in the cookies I had been avoiding.
Once I began to relax, my parents, relieved by the change, stopped fretting over me. Sasha also seemed to believe nothing had happened and let go of his persistent questioning.
It felt as if the storm had finally passed.
But just when I thought it was over, the story picked up again—this time, with Sasha bursting into my room, holding a book.
“Looks like the young lord is very upset,” said Michelle as she cleared away a tray of cold tea, her voice floating through the cracked door.
“Did something annoy him out there?” I replied nonchalantly. Sasha’s stomping footsteps outside usually meant he was in a foul mood. Typically, when this happened, he would retreat to his room and slam the door shut.
“Wait… the sound’s getting closer,” Michelle noted, glancing nervously at the hallway.
To my surprise, Sasha’s footsteps were heading straight for my room. I lowered the book I was reading and stared at the door, curious.
“Vivian Roha!”
I flinched at the sound of my brother yelling my full name.
“Why are you shouting? You’re hurting my ears!” I protested, startled by Sasha’s stormy entrance.
Instead of responding, he raised his right hand and shoved something toward me. In his hand was a book.
It was <The Demon Duke Is Obsessed With Me>, the very same book Armin Grey had taken from me.
My breath caught in my throat. Realizing that Sasha was studying my reaction carefully, I struggled to keep my voice steady as I asked, “What’s this?”
“What’s this? That’s what I want to know!” Sasha snapped back.
“Did you buy it?”
“Do you think I’d be able to buy it?”
“Then how did you get it?”
The book had long been sold out; even if he’d gone to a bookstore, there was no way he could have found it.
As I gawked at him in confusion, Sasha explained the book’s origin in a low, menacing voice that made it clear just how angry he was.
“It was a gift.”
“A gift? From who?”
“Vivian.”
Instead of answering, Sasha called my name with a tone that sent chills down my spine. When I looked up, his cold, piercing gaze met mine.
When Sasha looked at me like that, it always meant he was furious.
“You really didn’t do anything?” he pressed.
“I didn’t! Why do you keep assuming I’ve done something wrong?” I protested, feigning confidence as I forced myself to meet his eyes.
It had been a week with no incidents. If nothing happened, then it was as if I hadn’t done anything at all—right? I tried to convince myself of this, but my bravado shattered with Sasha’s next words.
“Then why would that guy give me this book?”
“Who’s that guy?”
“Armin Grey!” Sasha practically roared. “The same guy who returned your shawl at the royal ball!”
My heart stopped.
“What?!”
I sprang to my feet in shock at my brother’s words.
“Ar… Armin Grey?”
The doubt in Sasha’s eyes grew even darker as he stared at me.
“You did do something, didn’t you? Spit it out now before this gets any worse.”
“No! It’s just… this is shocking! Why would he suddenly…?”
“How should I know? When he approached me and handed this over, I was more shocked than you are now. And you think that’s all there is to it?”
Despite his rough tone, Sasha carefully opened the book’s cover and thrust it toward me.
“Take a look at this. Why would he tell you something like this?”
With trembling hands, I took the book from him. A short note was written inside.
“Thank you for enjoying my book. With love, to Lady Roha.”
Beneath the note was a seal bearing the name:
Rebecca Grey.
I buried my face in the page, trying to make sense of it. Sasha sighed heavily at my confusion.
“I only have two questions,” he said, rubbing his temples as though suppressing a headache. “First, how did Armin Grey know you like this book? And second, why is he revealing Rebecca Grey’s identity to you?”
Sasha leaned against the wall, his voice growing sharper with frustration.
“From the ball, I knew something was off. How many times did I tell you not to get involved with him?”
“Sasha!”
“What now?”
“Who is Rebecca Grey?”
I pressed him, my anger simmering just beneath the surface.
When Armin Grey accused me of being a devil worshipper for reading this book, his words had felt like a direct attack. But now? The author’s surname—Grey—was undeniable.
Whoever Rebecca Grey was, she had some connection to Armin Grey.
This revelation flipped everything I thought I knew. If Armin Grey knew the author’s identity all along, then his accusations were baseless nonsense—a twisted prank, perhaps.
Why? Why would he pull something like that on someone he’d just met?
“Who’s Rebecca Grey?” I demanded again, my voice louder this time.
“Who’s Rebecca Grey?” Sasha repeated, almost mockingly. “She’s the Duchess, of course!”
The words hit me like a slap.
“The Duchess… Rebecca Grey…?”
“Yeah. Turns out she’s the real identity of R.G., the author of that book. She’s been keeping it a secret all this time. But why would she, or Armin Grey for that matter, reveal it to you? And how did they even know you like her books?”
I barely heard Sasha anymore. His words swirled around me, disconnected and weightless.
“The Duchess…”
My thoughts drowned out everything else.
If Rebecca Grey, the Duchess, was the author, and if Armin Grey had always known…then what was his game? Why bring this to me? Why reveal a secret they had hidden so carefully?
The deeper I delved into these questions, the less sense it all made.
