Chapter 30

“What?”

 

“Since you’ve been avoiding a duel with me, I simply wondered why.”

 

Freyer kept pushing himself to the limit. Ivailo raised his sword toward Freyer’s face— close enough to touch his nose.

 

“I avoided dueling because I didn’t want my little brother to lose. But if that’s how you’re choosing to interpret it, then so be it. Let’s duel.”

 

Freyer smiled faintly and pushed aside the blade in front of him with the back of his hand.

 

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

 

“I suppose I should show my brother just how wide the gap between us is.”

 

Ivailo scoffed.

 

“Come at me.”

 

“This time, I’ll show you my real skill.”

 

Freyer grinned brightly and drew his sword.

 

Clang—

 

Freyer swung toward Ivailo.

 

‘He’s furious,’ Freyer thought.

 

The strikes were strong, but Ivailo’s sword was shaky—his emotions were all over the place.

 

‘I can predict every swing.’

 

With a faint smile, Freyer parried him effortlessly.

 

‘Clang— Clang—‘

 

Steel clashed endlessly. As Freyer brought his sword down, he asked,

 

“Did you have a pleasant time with Lady Lilithia during the Return Banquet?”

 

“Lilithia…?”

 

Ivailo was already struggling just to block.

 

“You said so at the banquet hall, didn’t you? That Lady Lilithia was waiting in your bedroom.”

 

“Stop spouting nonsense and focus on the duel.”

 

“I was just curious.”**

 

“Fine. Yes, Lady Lilithia and I had a very passionate night. Is that the answer you wanted?”

 

The moment he answered, Freyer’s swordmanship grew sharper. Ivailo could do nothing but block as he was driven backward—step by step. Then—

 

“I suppose I’m done holding back.”

 

Vrrrm—

 

A red aura seeped into Ivailo’s blade, making it hum violently. As he slammed his sword downward with brute force—

 

Bzzzt—!

 

A blue aura burst from Freyer’s weapon, exploding with a thunderous shockwave.

 

Ivailo dropped his sword entirely; it flew into the air as he stared in disbelief.

 

“What…?”

 

He stared blankly at the weapon flying away.

 

Freyer approached, his footsteps unhurried, and leaned toward his brother’s ear.

 

“Because as it happens… I heard something interesting.”

 

He spoke quietly.

 

“That night, Lady Lilithia Baimery returned home with Lady Nazlee.”

 

Freyer let out a crooked smile, sheathing his sword and patting Ivailo’s shoulder.

 

“So tell me, Brother—was the lady you spent the night with truly Lady Lilithia Baimery?”

 

“…”

 

“How strange. Rumor has it you recently purchased goods from the Baimery Trade Company. I suppose you got confused.”

 

Ivailo’s face flushed in humiliation.

 

“I know the territorial dispute has been weighing on you, Brother, but such a mistake is quite rude to the lady in question.”

 

“……”

 

Freyer looked from the fallen sword to his brother’s stiff face.

 

“Today’s duel… is my victory.”

 

With a pleasant smile, he walked past Ivailo—who was grinding his teeth—and exited the training yard.

 

 

***

 

 

While Winnie was brushing my hair, a knock sounded and the powder room door opened. In the mirror, I spotted Norman.

 

“My lady.”

 

“Yes, Norman?”

 

“I believe you should hurry. A carriage has arrived at the front of the estate.”

 

“Already?”

 

It was barely after sunrise. Flustered, I looked out the window. A black carriage had pulled in. It looked plainer than most others—if not for the small flag on top, I wouldn’t have believed it was from the Imperial Palace.

 

Norman narrowed his eyes behind me.

 

“Miss Lilithia… I don’t recall you mentioning a royal carriage.”

 

“A r–royal carriage?”

 

Winnie froze mid-brush. I saw her shocked face in the mirror.

 

“Please explain.”

 

Their expressions startled me.

 

“D–did I not say? I received an invitation from the Second Prince.”

 

“You only told me you were invited to a tea gathering!”

 

“I assumed it was with the other young ladies! But the palace? The Second Prince?!”

 

Winnie’s voice rose higher and higher. I blinked rapidly.

 

“What do we do? Should I redo your hair first? Or your dress?”

 

“You don’t have to go that far…”

 

Winnie started pacing in panic. Norman pointed toward the dressing room.

 

“Winnie, I’ll inform them the young lady will be a bit delayed. Get her changed into something more appropriate.”

 

“Come with me, my lady!”

 

I was dragged into the dressing room. Winnie planted me in place and tore open the wardrobe.

 

“But I’m already dressed. I can go like this.”

 

I shrugged. Winnie shot me a glare sharp enough to kill.

 

“My lady! You wore that dress yesterday—AND the day before!”

 

I looked at myself in the mirror: a simple plum-colored dress with a tiny ivory ribbon at the waist.

 

“This is far too plain!”

 

Winnie returned, her arms piled with dresses.

 

“Well… yeah, it is plain.”

 

It was perfect for running around the trade company all day.

 

“The other dresses are so uncomfortable. The corsets are too tight.”

 

This one was roomy. Comfortable. I wanted to buy three more just like it.

 

“My lady! You’re going to the Imperial Palace. You must dress properly!”

 

Her eyes were terrifying.

 

“…Fine. I’ll change.”

 

 

***

 

 

“I liked the previous dress better…”

 

But Winnie insisted, so now I was wearing a canary-colored satin gown with three tiers of lace. The corset squeezed my ribs mercilessly.

 

“Ghh… how tight did she pull this?”

 

I shut my eyes and sighed deeply.

 

‘Was the palace always this far away?’

 

Just as I looked toward the window, the carriage stopped.

 

Freyer’s butler spoke from outside, “We have arrived.”

 

The door opened. I grabbed the basket full of teas I’d brought.

 

“It looks heavy, my lady. Allow me.”

 

The butler with the amber hair smiled.

 

“Thank you.”

 

I looked up at the palace. Strange circumstances aside, the sight hit me with sudden awe.

 

‘I can’t believe I’m visiting Freyer’s residence…’

 

The novel never described the West Palace in detail—it only showed Freyer constantly trying to meet Nazlee.

 

‘It must be decorated exactly to Freyer’s taste.’

 

Excitement bubbled up.

 

“This way, please.”

 

I followed the butler inside.

 

“?”

 

I tilted my head. A massive painting at the front of the hall was covered with white cloth.

 

‘That’s where a portrait should be.’

 

Most noble estates displayed portraits of the lord or lady of the house. Ours had my mother’s portrait.

 

‘Is that Lady Freyer’s mother? Why cover it?’

 

There were no other decorations—no paintings, no ornaments.

 

“So why cover the only one?”

 

The butler called out,

 

“This way, Lady.”

 

He was already on the stairs. I hurried after him.

 

 

***

 

 

‘This must be the drawing room.’

 

Warmth from the lit fireplace filled the room. The butler set the basket on the table.

 

“His Highness will be here shortly. Please make yourself comfortable.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

I sat in the armchair.

 

“A maid will bring the tea set soon.”

 

He bowed and left. The drawing room was just as plain as the hall.

 

“There’s something above the fireplace…”

 

A single object—almost the only decoration in the whole palace. Curious, I went closer.

 

“A jewelry box?”

 

A golden, three-legged ornate jewel box gleamed. It was luxurious enough to look like sculpture.

 

“Why put this here?”

 

A jewelry box on a fireplace mantel felt… wrong. The lid was slightly open.

 

“What’s inside?”

 

Jewelry? Something precious?

 

‘Maybe Freyer’s accessories? A brooch with green gems like his eyes? An opal ring matching his hair?’

 

My imagination spiraled.

 

“Ugh, now I have to know.”

 

After a moment of internal struggle—

 

“I’m not stealing anything. Just peeking…”

 

But the moment I picked it up—

 

Crash—!

 

Something shattered outside the door.

 

“Ah!”

 

Startled, I dropped the box. It bounced on the carpet—

 

Click.

 

The lid flipped open, and something tumbled out.

 

“…A black strap?”

 

Not jewelry. A long, thin bundle of black straps.

 

“…Huh?”

 

A strange disappointment washed over me. I crouched down to pick it up.

 

“Wait… this looks… familiar?”

 

I frowned, digging through my memory—and turned pale.

 

On the first day after I transmigrated, Winnie had asked:

 

“My lady! I can’t find your garter belt in the laundry! Where did you put it?”

 

“Hmm… I don’t remember.”

 

“It’s from R. Mary’s shop—you said you loved that one! You really don’t remember?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Weird… I’ll check the bathroom again.”

 

Because my garter belt had grown legs and vanished, Winnie had scolded me half to death.

 

“…No way. It can’t be mine…?”

 

It shouldn’t be possible. My garter belt should not be here.

 

But the shiny little brand tag—R. Mary—glittered back at me.

 

My right hand trembled violently.

 

“Why is this here?!”