Chapter 97
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Dear, I believe you may be misunderstanding.
Episode 97
Grace led Norman to a place not far away.
Norman had no reason to refuse an invitation from Grace, the evening's guest of honor.
Especially since he maintained the appearance of being on good terms with her in public, he couldn't afford to show his displeasure.
'Why is she calling for me?'
He watched Grace walking ahead with poorly concealed irritation in his eyes.
Grace was not typically active in social circles.
Even on the rare occasions when their schedules overlapped, she had never once initiated conversation with him.
So it was only natural to find this suspicious.
Grace descended the Banquet Hall Terrace steps and ventured deep into the Garden, where the party lights still lingered.
Once she confirmed no one was nearby, she stopped and turned to face him.
"What is it you want to say, Grace?"
Norman spoke first, his tone curt but considerably softer than usual.
After all, his sister had become 'Grace Black' as of today.
No matter what, he had to refrain from the one-sided verbal abuse he'd indulged in before.
Norman's insides twisted, but there was nothing he could do about it.
At least not until Grace was cast out from the Black Family.
'She'll definitely be cast out eventually, so I just have to endure it until then.'
He needed to maintain a friendly demeanor until he'd extracted everything he could from the Black Family through Grace.
Well, the past was the past, after all.
"You spread those rumors, didn't you? Older brother?"
Grace turned to face him directly, her question blunt and cutting.
"...What?"
Norman, uncertain what she meant, quickly recalled someone.
'Ah, Trisha Onium.'
A woman he desired but could not have.
A woman he'd made moves against behind the scenes.
It seemed she was referring to that woman.
Norman let out a soft laugh and shrugged his shoulders.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"The malicious rumors about Trisha Onium—you started them, didn't you?"
"Did I? Do you have proof I did it? It's just a rumor that surfaced from who knows where."
"Why would you think there's no proof?"
Norman, who had been responding with ease until that moment, faltered.
His face hardened instantly as he stared at Grace intently and asked.
"Then... you have proof?"
Grace, facing Norman, smiled for the first time.
It was a quiet, serene smile, yet Norman found it far more chilling.
"Confess. Admit what you've done.
"Are you insane?"
"I think it's you who's lost your mind, not me."
Grace was utterly astounded by Norman's audacity and arrogance, which exceeded even her imagination.
Just how conceited did one have to be to spread rumors that tarnished the honor of the Onium family head?
A Marquess of the Borderlands wielded status and influence that could overshadow even a typical duke or marquess.
Norman, who could not possibly be ignorant of this, had damaged her reputation with baseless gossip for one reason alone.
Because the head of Onium was a woman.
Norman, who treated women as inferior and contemptible creatures, had dismissed her just as easily.
Without considering what catastrophic consequences this might bring.
This was proof of Norman's stupidity.
And there was something else.
Norman had made yet another mistake.
The person who became the subject of gossip as the rumor spread.
It was Princess Vivian.
How had he managed to disgrace both a princess and a Marquess of the Borderlands in a single blow?
Both had their honor tarnished by rumors that never existed, and absurdly, they had been used by Norman Oellin.
The fact that Norman had provoked two great houses simultaneously and thought himself safe only further demonstrated his foolishness.
If Father learned of this, he would not be able to shield Norman this time.
He had been devoted to arranging a marriage between Princess Vivian and Norman, yet the man himself had been defiling that very arrangement.
Perhaps the House of Oellin would suffer consequences as well.
But such matters were none of Grace's concern.
It was a family she had already intended to abandon anyway.
"...You? Grace, did you just call me 'you'?"
Norman's face darkened instantly.
In the past, he would have shoved her by now, but he restrained himself.
Instead, his voice grew lower and more menacing.
"Watch your tongue, Grace Oellin. Do you think becoming a duchess means you're no longer an Oellin? Don't delude yourself! Even if you've become a duchess, it means nothing if he discards you! And you'll still remain Grace Oellin! I'm still your older brother, and I can still strike you!"
Grace listened calmly to his words, spoken in fury.
She felt no pain, no sorrow, no anger.
"You truly are... vulgar, Norman Oellin."
"This, this is—!"
He finally raised his hand, which he had been suppressing with effort.
It was that moment.
Grace swiftly lifted something she had been concealing beneath her skirts.
Norman, startled, flinched and froze, letting out a shriek.
"What, what, what is that, damn it!"
He crouched down in fear, wrapping his arms around his head.
His shoulders trembled visibly.
In truth, it was an object that even Grace found frightening to hold.
Her fingertips were also pale from gripping it, but she was no longer seized by the merciless terror she had felt before.
Not a hot, burning anger—but a cold fury that froze her entire being, as if her very blood had turned to ice.
An endless, heavy rage as though every drop of warmth had drained from her veins.
"You, you—how dare you hold that! How are you even holding it!"
Norman didn't even dare look at her, his face contorted with anguish.
The way he trembled violently, his head clenched tight, only made him appear more pathetic and wretched.
Grace took a slow, deliberate breath.
Then, with a trembling hand, she hurled the object before him with a sharp flick.
"Ahhhhh!"
It was a pair of scissors.
Not the large, blunt kitchen shears, but the delicate embroidery scissors that noblewomen used for needlework and fine stitching.
Though the tips were pointed, they were small, and the ends were wrapped in soft rubber.
Yet the moment Norman saw them, he convulsed.
"T-take it away! Get it away!"
"I couldn't remember before, but it suddenly came back to me."
"Damn it, what are you—"
"This phobia that Father and you treated me like a fool for having... I wasn't the only one suffering from it."
Several scenes flashed before Grace's eyes.
"The memory came back to me..."
A memory from when she was very young.
One of the few remaining memories from just before Mother passed away.
"When you and I were very small."
Around the time Grace developed her phobia, Norman had experienced similar episodes.
"From some point on, you would panic and tremble whenever you saw these scissors."
And right around that same time...
Mother lost her sight.
"W-what is this!"
"That's why Father had all the scissors removed from the Estate. Because of you."
"Ugghhhhh!"
Norman recoiled on his haunches, as if utterly repulsed, backing away.
Grace, now holding the scissors again, advanced toward him with measured, deliberate steps.
"D-don't come closer!"
"That's right, you're afraid of this too, Norman. And do you know why?"
She stepped before him and held the scissors out toward him.
As if commanding him to remember.
"Because you did something with these scissors."
"Ahhhhhhh!"
Norman covered his ashen face with both hands, his voice breaking into a wail.
Grace stepped back and spoke coldly.
"Remember this, Norman. You must atone for everything. For all that you've done."
"S-s-s—!"
"I've decided I won't hold back anymore."
"Y-you, Grace Oellin! Ahhhhh! Damn it, damn it, damn it!"
Norman lost all composure, spewing every curse word he could muster.
Yes, that was his true nature laid bare.
Strip away the polished facade and the prestige of House Marquess Oellin, and nothing remained but this—a man consumed by rage.
"And... I'd appreciate it if you stopped calling me Grace Oellin."
Her voice was courteous, yet it carried the weight of both warning and command.
An implicit threat that he was never to address her by that name again.
She stepped back slowly.
Norman, who had been screaming moments before, cried out after her.
"You think just because you say so, you'll actually become Grace Black? You'll always be Grace Oellin, whether you live or die! Oellin!"
We share the same blood, after all.
No matter how much you struggle, the hell that is the Oellin name awaits you...
Norman shrieked, his voice raw with desperation.
Grace, who had been retreating, turned to face him.
Beneath the moonlight, she smiled slowly.
"You're wrong, Norman. I'm neither Grace Oellin nor Grace Black anymore. I am..."
She drew a deep breath, exhaling the profound relief that flooded through her.
"I am Grace Blooming."
Moonlight broke through the clouds, illuminating her completely.
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Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org
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