--------------- ‌‌‌‌
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support ‌‌‌our team and enjoy the ‌‌latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org
---------------

72.
Even with his memory lost, Zeppelin accomplished most of his duties with remarkable ease.
His fundamental knowledge, artistic sensibilities, and refined aesthetic sense remained ‌‌‌‌intact in his mind.
If anything, the ‌‌absence of his ‌‌former fiery temperament seemed to have made him even more astute.
According to Octavio, Zeppelin had recovered to the point where he could soon attend state council meetings.
Of course, even if Zeppelin fully ‌‌‌returned to his duties, without recovering his memories, he would be nothing more than Octavio's ‌‌‌puppet.
While Zeppelin lay unconscious, work had accumulated like mountains before him.
Because of this, Zeppelin only occasionally stopped by the Ballroom to check on its progress.
It seemed Zeppelin had even forgotten how much importance he had placed on this ball.
Had it ‌‌been otherwise, Alicia would never have taken charge of the autumn ball.
The autumn ball of House of Devon was no ordinary social gathering.
It was the venue where the Devonshire Earldom would announce its business proposals for the following year.
It was a meaningful occasion to gather investors and unveil the artworks collected over time.
Particularly, the moment when the Hall of Light would be revealed ‌to the public and impressions shared was ‌the moment ‌Zeppelin anticipated most throughout the year.
'What will happen when the Count's ‌‌memory returns? How dare they act so arrogantly.'
Grace clicked her tongue.
Now her only remaining hope was for Zeppelin to recover his memories as soon as possible.
But no ‌‌‌‌matter how much time passed, there was no sign of his memory returning.
It was clear that ‌‌‌Octavio was playing tricks again.
'Am I really supposed to just watch the ball fall apart like ‌this?'
Grace lamented as she surveyed the ‌‌Ballroom, which was becoming increasingly marred by Alicia's dreadful taste.
Alicia was changing everything Grace had carefully arranged since morning to suit her own preferences.
She seemed determined to interfere at every turn, as if competing with Grace herself.
Grace wanted nothing more than to rush to Zeppelin and confess everything, but she could not.
Octavio constantly hovered at Zeppelin's side, maintaining an iron grip on the truth.
A strict order of silence had been issued throughout the Count's Mansion, preventing any servant from speaking carelessly.
It meant she had no choice but to treat Alicia as if she were the lady of the house.
"Are you ‌‌truly going to leave it as is? How ghastly..."
Susan, who had approached without notice, surveyed the ‌‌Ballroom with dismay. Her brow furrowed involuntarily at the excessively garish spectacle.
Grace clenched her teeth so hard they seemed ready to shatter.
"What else can I do? In time, the Count will realize it himself—that this woman dares to impersonate Rebecca. When that day comes, I'll make her pay dearly for today's humiliation."
At Grace's caustic rebuke, Susan flinched and looked at her.
Grace's eyes burned with an intensity that suggested she could strangle Alicia at any moment.
But soon she exhaled a heavy sigh.
"I need to get away from here to avoid seeing that spectacle."
Grace's steps toward the outside were heavy and labored.
The sunset had already begun to fade. The entire estate was bathed in deep crimson.
Grace wandered aimlessly, her gait unsteady.
She traced the walls of the estate, and with each brick her fingers touched, memories shimmered and gathered at her fingertips.
There was not a single thing in the estate that had not felt the touch of her hands.
Therefore, it had to be mine. It had to belong to someone who ‌knew and cherished this place more than anyone else.
Yet why was everything I ‌‌loved crumbling to dust?
It began with Laila. Then Rebecca, and now the entire House of Devon was collapsing.
Suddenly, my daughter Laila came to mind.
Now that I thought about it, her death anniversary was approaching soon.
'How ungrateful.'
As if failing to meet my expectations weren't enough, she abandoned her mother and left first.
Grace recalled the faint smile on Laila's lips as she gasped her final breaths, and the words she had spoken.
'At last, I can escape from your grasp. This life ‌‌has been nothing but hell. Never forget this. It was you who killed me, Mother.'
"Hah...."
The shock she had received then came flooding back, and Grace had to steady herself against the wall, struggling to catch her breath.
She could not fathom why that child had said such things to her.
I had given her only the finest things and taught her only what was best.
How could she repay me in such a manner?
"It ‌‌was merely a delusion. Perhaps I was not in my right mind then and merely heard things that were not there."
And so Grace chose to deceive herself.
She wrapped her memories with Laila in beautiful packaging and concealed the ugly truth within.
Only then could she survive.
Laila was ‌‌the first loss she had ever experienced.
When her husband died, she felt little emotion. It hardly deserved the grand word "loss."
But that child's death always pierced her with pain.
Her daughter's image surfaced unbidden, and her chest grew tight. She wanted to weep.
Yet she could not afford to show weakness. In this battlefield of a place, tears were an invitation to be devoured.
Grace barely suppressed her tears and made her way to a secluded corner ‌of the garden.
There stood a small cottage where Zeppelin had played as ‌a child.
For a long time, there had been no children in the ‌‌‌Count's House. As a result, the cottage had fallen into neglect.
Grace had decorated the abandoned cottage to her taste. Before long, the shabby little structure had taken on the appearance of a reception room rivaling any grand estate.
Whenever she needed peace of mind, she sought out this cottage.
Here, Grace sipped from fine porcelain cups while imagining herself as the mistress of the House of Devon.
It always ‌‌‌‌lifted her ‌‌‌spirits from despair.
She needed that now, more than ever.
"Come with me."
The moment Grace grasped the cottage door handle, seeking solace, a familiar voice softly grazed her eardrums.
She turned her head, and upon discovering those sharp, amber eyes, she froze in place.
The owner of those amber eyes swiftly brought her hand down cleanly across Grace's neck.
Her vision flashed white for a moment, and ‌‌‌‌then her consciousness simply cut off.
* * *
"Farewell."
After seeing off the last customer before the break, Sandra patted her shoulders and collapsed onto the sofa.
When a staff member brought Sandra an ice pack, she placed it against her forehead.
"Oh my goodness! I feel like I can ‌finally breathe. Heavens, I think my ears are bleeding ‌‌from all this talk."
"It's because of the Duke of Johannes and that mysterious woman, isn't it?"
The employee casually remarked as she hung a "Closed for Break" sign ‌‌on the boutique door.
Sandra let out a groan as though merely hearing that name caused her a headache.
"That's right. I don't even know how many people brought it up today—I nearly died pretending to hear it for the first time ‌‌each time."
The rumor that the Duke of Johannes had brought a woman into his castle for the first time spread like wildfire.
Moreover, the fact that ‌‌the woman had visited the Duke's Castle while wearing a black veil only intensified the intrigue surrounding the gossip.
Some claimed she was a foreign princess, others insisted she was of lowborn status, and still others swore she was a married woman.
Baseless rumors circulated, but ‌‌one thing remained certain.
The Duke of Johannes ‌‌was utterly smitten with this woman.
According to an anonymous informant who worked at the Duke's Castle, the Duke of ‌‌‌Johannes had grasped her wrist and led her into a secluded chamber that only he frequented.
It was a room that only his closest butler and the Duke of Johannes himself were permitted to enter.
The fact that he had brought this woman to such a place sparked endless speculation that the ‌‌two shared far more than a casual connection.
Sandra, having pieced together the information she'd gathered throughout the day, rose from the sofa with a weary stretch.
"I'm going to rest in ‌‌‌my room for ‌‌‌‌a while. Don't let anyone in."
"Understood."
Sandra made her way to the rest room prepared in the back of the boutique and settled into the plush bed for a brief respite.
She needed to replenish her strength to face the chattering noblewomen who would arrive in the evening.
Yet sleep ‌‌‌eluded her.
Sandra was equally curious about the Duke of Johannes's woman.
Regardless of who this woman was, if she had won the affections of the ‌‌‌‌Duke of Johannes, the entire landscape of high society could be turned upside down.
Currently, the high society of the Rotandus Empire was essentially the domain of Marchioness Petunia.
Her tyranny had left countless victims in its wake.
The emergence of a rival who could match Marchioness Petunia was welcome news to ‌Sandra.
When factions divided high society, merchants like herself stood to gain the most.
They would rush forward with eyes wide open to acquire ever more ‌‌‌dazzling and beautiful gowns and jewels for themselves.
As Sandra contemplated the benefits that the Duke ‌of Johannes's secret lover might bring, an employee carefully opened the door and entered. ‌‌‌
"A visitor has arrived, but...."
"I told you not to let anyone in."
Sandra's voice carried an edge of irritation, worn down by exhaustion.
The employee hesitated before finally speaking.
"She said if I mentioned that you're her muse, you would understand."
"What on earth does that mean? Send ‌‌‌her away at once——."
Sandra sprang from her seat, her hand raised in dismissal. She hastily removed her eye mask.
"What does she look like?"
"I'm not entirely certain. She's wearing a black veil."
Seeing that the visitor's face was concealed, Sandra ‌knew exactly who it was.
She quickly tidied her ‌‌‌‌‌disheveled hair and hurried outside.
A ‌‌‌woman of indeterminate age sat in the guest chair.
Though her face was hidden, Sandra recognized her immediately upon observing her impressive height and overall bearing.
After all, there was only one person throughout the entire Rotandus Empire who had ever called herself my Muse. ‌‌‌
'Rebecca!'
The moment Rebecca saw Sandra, she rose slowly from her seat.
"It's been so long. Have you been well?"
"Of course I've been well...."
Sandra glanced sideways at the employee who was watching the situation with curious eyes.
Judging by the fact that she had come to find her with her face covered, Rebecca clearly did not wish to reveal her identity at this ‌‌‌moment.
"Ahem. You go run an errand at the Market. Fetch the fabric I mentioned this morning."
"Pardon? But that's not really my responsibility...."
"I said go, so go! Why must you prattle on ‌‌‌‌‌so? Off with you at once!"
Sandra sent the employee away as though shooing them out.
Once she ‌‌‌‌‌‌‌confirmed the employee had walked toward the Market, Sandra quickly locked the Boutique door and drew all the curtains closed.
Sandra turned back toward Rebecca, her hand pressed to her heaving ‌‌‌chest.
Rebecca slowly removed her veil.
As her figure gradually revealed itself, Sandra nearly forgot to breathe.
The runaway Countess had returned.
E-book Publication.

January 12, 2022
Author.

Long Night Sky
Publisher.

Desert Fox
Published by.

Woongjin ThinkBig Co., Ltd. ‌‌‌‌
Submission Reception.

naver.me/54VzzLSn
Blog.

blog.naver.com/wj_fennecfox
Twitter.

@wjt_fennecfox

---------------
Brought to ‌you by Valir Scans! ‌‌‌To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org
---------------