Chapter 4

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 4

Chapter Title: Was I Not Good Enough?

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"How's your health?"

When Clodel didn't answer, he pressed her as if urging a response.

"Aren't you asking if I'm well-prepared to die?"

She spoke with the blank expression of a doll.

"I'm getting there."

Her reply clearly didn't sit well, as wrinkles formed between Duke Vermonte's brows.

"Answer properly."

"It means it's steadily getting worse."

Clodel ignored the uncomfortable lump in her throat, like something was caught there.

"Just as you wished, Your Grace."

Only then did her response seem to satisfy him, and he leaned back on the sofa with a contented look.

"I see. Yes, of course. Heaven itself wouldn't stand idly by while this Vermonte suffers humiliation at the hands of those Temneth scum—even if they were torn limb from limb, it wouldn't be enough."

Duke Vermonte's eyes gleamed toward Clodel like those of a madman.

"This is how you repay the kindness of taking in an orphan like you with nowhere to go. Don't worry about what comes after. Your death will be hailed far and wide as a sacred martyrdom under Vermonte's glory, the very day vengeance against Temneth is complete."

Duke Vermonte rambled on passionately, like a lunatic, even though Clodel offered no reply.

"You look even thinner."

"Lately, it's hard to swallow anything."

"You spent the wedding night properly, I assume?"

Duke Vermonte shamelessly brought up such an indelicate topic with his niece.

"Yes."

"Hmph. Lucky for us that bastard changes women every night. If he had refined tastes, there's no way he'd have spent the night with a scrawny, worthless thing like you."

Enduring the shame fell to Clodel alone.

The cold treatment in Rowen Castle and Kaiyan's insults were nothing new to her.

From her birth with a commoner mother, to the mockery over her father following her mother to the grave.

Yet it was no different from the words she'd heard tirelessly for ten years after becoming her uncle's adopted daughter, unable to abandon the name despite inheriting Vermonte's fiery red hair and golden eyes.

If sharp words stabbed her heart like daggers, it hurt the same whether thrust by Temneth or Vermonte.

She was good at bearing pain.

There was no one left in the world to pity Clodel's suffering or mourn it.

"Still, it's fortunate we rushed the marriage before your condition worsened further. Sending you off to that young pup of a duke lets us strike him right in the back of the head."

He laced and unlaced his fingers as if thrilled just thinking about it, grinning wickedly.

"Once you die, we'll pin the blame on Duke Temneth for your death. For bringing a precious Vermonte bloodline to such a gruesome end. King Oberon will side with me without question. He already is."

"What if the king doesn't honor his promise to you?"

"You don't know King Oberon."

Duke Vermonte snorted dismissively at her words.

"He's a great sovereign. Nothing like that green brute Temneth who swings a sword like a fool. So seasoned and mature, you wouldn't believe they're the same age."

He lifted his chin proudly.

"Be grateful until your dying breath that King Oberon personally took an interest, making this plan possible."

The story she'd heard repeated endlessly since the marriage was arranged flowed in one ear and out the other.

"Do you understand?"

"......Yes, Your Grace."

Fortunately, her uncle and adoptive father, Duke Vermonte, didn't resemble her real father at all.

Clodel dearly loved the red hair and golden eyes that matched her late father's perfectly.

If this heartless Duke Vermonte shared even a hint of her father's looks or temperament beyond that coloring, she would have been utterly heartbroken.

It was a relief he didn't evoke her father in the slightest—not even as much as the dirt under his nails.

Had he worn her father's face while saying such things, it would have been unbearable.

"The duke will be here soon."

Rising from the sofa, Duke Vermonte hummed cheerfully as he approached the mirror.

"He has no idea he's digging his own grave, paying a bride price for trash like you. Even my late father must be laughing in his tomb."

Unable to share his glee, Clodel remained silent.

Kaiyan strode down the corridor with wide, unhesitating steps.

The thought of facing that mangy old fox, Duke Vermonte, soured his mood.

"Should I just dispose of the old man?"

He felt his subordinates flinch behind him at his mutter, understanding perfectly.

Imagining shoving Duke Vermonte—who had usurped his father-in-law's pre-dug grave that Clodel had eyed—into it eased his irritation.

Feeling much lighter, a woman suddenly leaped in front of him, arms outstretched to block his path.

"Lord Kaiyan!"

She was a beauty with jet-black hair and blue eyes. But her youthful face, fresh from her coming-of-age, held a girlish stubbornness and audacity.

"Antyone. What is this nonsense?"

She was a distant relative, a collateral branch. Though her mother hailed from House Temneth and bore the Berang name, Antyone Berang proudly boasted of the Temneth blood in her veins.

From a very young age, Antyone had openly declared she would marry Kaiyan when she grew up.

Yet Kaiyan had never entertained her or spent private time with her.

There had been a few times she'd snuck into his bedroom, but she'd been politely sent home as family.

Even that, Antyone had bragged about to the territory's maidens as proof of his special treatment.

He'd let it slide.

After her boasts, the nighttime bedroom invasions had decreased.

Kaiyan raised an eyebrow at Antyone's resentful glare.

"What nonsense? You're the one—what's this about?"

"Speak clearly."

At his cold words, Antyone's eyes reddened with frustration.

"How could you... how could you leave me for another woman... sob."

Kaiyan spoke coldly as she burst into tears, overcome with emotion.

"What the hell are you saying right now?"

"My lord. No woman loves you more than I do. I've loved only you since I could barely walk. You can't do this."

"Clinging endlessly, thinking I'll indulge you forever."

As Kaiyan glared, offended, Antyone paled. It was no gaze for a girl whose heart brimmed with innocent infatuation.

"Dissatisfied with my marriage? Take it up with King Oberon yourself."

He ignored her and stepped away. After a few paces, he turned back briefly.

"Don't show your face before me again. My leniency as Temneth ends here."

As Kaiyan departed with his escorts, Antyone collapsed, drained of energy.

Then, the young ladies who had hidden behind pillars, watching her protest, rushed to her side.

"You did great, Antyone. You said it perfectly—Lord Kaiyan will remember you now."

"We couldn't even dream of it. You're amazing, Antyone."

Flattered by their praise, she wiped her teary eyes with the back of her hand.

Unlike moments ago when she'd poured out uncontrollable emotion to Kaiyan, she now crossed her arms with a haughty expression.

"I can't believe it. That filthy Vermonte crawling into his bedroom."

Strictly speaking, Kaiyan had entered his Vermonte wife's bedroom, but the castle maids who overheard said nothing to correct her.

"It would have been perfect if you'd become duchess."

"Right? You promised more balls in the castle for us."

"And inviting knight orders with all those handsome knights."

The sighs and complaints of the newly adult girls filled the corridor.

But the one most steeped in sighs and resentment was Antyone herself.

Yesterday's celebration had been a Temneth family affair.

Antyone had wailed from dawn till dusk, so no one from House Berang attended the Rowen Castle feast.

Spoiled rotten with adoration for her stunning looks since childhood, her stubbornness was unmatched. Even today, at the vassals' banquet, she'd insisted on coming to the castle and secured her spot.

Stealing glances at Kaiyan from afar in his seat, bile rose in her throat.

'Oh, my Kaiyan. Did you truly spend the night ensnared by that ice witch's schemes?'

He'd never even held her, let alone touched her fingertip. In her one-sided affections, she believed such a man yearned for her fervently but acted aloof due to prying eyes.

"Lady Antyone."

A maid timidly approached her then.

"Did you bring what I asked for?"

"Yes. Here."

The maid pulled a fist-sized box from beneath her apron.

"You got rid of all the flowers?"

"Of course. I burned them all in the kitchen incinerator."

The Rowen Castle maid gazed admiringly at Antyone, with her coveted Temneth black hair.

"How dare that redheaded Vermonte cling to our lord. Absolutely not. Call on me anytime for anything about that woman, Lady Antyone."

"Thank you. When I become duchess, I'll remember you."

"Thank you so much."

Antyone slipped the glowing blue diamond ring from the box onto her finger.

"Let's head back for today."

Behind her, Temneth loyalists chattered triumphantly as they vanished down the corridor.

Duke Vermonte, who had been cursing Temneth nonstop, now wore a generous smile as if it had never happened.

"I won't forget the great favor you've bestowed, Duke."

"Now Temneth and Vermonte are practically one family, aren't we?"

"Indeed. You're the first Temneth to make a name in Valmond through merit."

"An honor."

Despite the warm words, their eyes burned with intent to tear each other apart.

Clodel stood silently between them, like mere decoration.

Thirty carts laden with grain rolled northward in a line.

Clodel would bet her hair it wouldn't spread Temneth's aid but rather glorify great Lord Vermonte.

"It was quite a meaningful item to me. Didn't you like the gift?"

Kaiyan's question came out of nowhere, abrupt.

"Or was it me who wasn't to your liking?"