Chapter 22

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: The Real Pero
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Diello stared at the spot where Croire had disappeared.

It had been a bizarre night, to say the least.

He was surely tired enough to sleep, yet a strange tension kept him awake.

After a long moment of contemplation, he identified the source of that tension: his bride, sleeping so peacefully before him.

But more than anything…

Diello glanced down at his own hand.

“She’s an Alloje.”

Could an Alloje generate such heat?

Not only that, but the very sound of her breath and the ripples from her small movements had completely dominated his thoughts, making sleep impossible.

‘You promised. We’d just hold hands and sleep.’

Thinking how he strangely regretted those words, he had held Croire’s hand all night.

He clenched and unclenched his empty hand, narrowing his eyes before rising from his seat.

He tried to erase the memory of a dawn that had felt like madness.

* * *

He was told that his bride had set up a spot in the garden today, simply because the weather was nice.

Her work was laid out on a simple outdoor table.

It seemed like a decent way to lift her spirits, but he didn't bother to follow Croire outside.

“…”

Instead, Diello chose to look down on her from the terrace.

Behind him stood Rick, dressed in black, ready to give his report.

Having finished handling matters from the last battlefield, he had returned with new information.

“Duke Alloje sent Croire a stipend for her upkeep?”

At his question, Rick answered with a cheerful expression.

“Yes, sir. About a tenth of the usual amount.”

Even so, it would be a large sum for a single person to spend.

Diello’s eyes narrowed.

He had a good idea of what his bride would use that money for.

She wouldn’t spend it on dresses or social activities like other noble ladies.

Instead, she would use it to advance her future plans.

From the terrace, Croire’s face looked utterly delighted.

“…”

Diello raised a slight eyebrow.

*Swoosh…*

As he watched her, he seemed to hear the phantom sound of waves.

The sea, glittering everywhere with water.

And her, the most dazzling sight of all.

“Croire.”

Muttering her name, Diello tilted his head slightly.

As far as he knew, the next head of the Alloje family was already decided.

Her older brother, Pentas Alloje.

Pentas’s aptitude was said to be incomparably stronger than Croire’s.

Diello tilted his head a little more.

“Pentas has an aptitude greater than hers?”

If that were true, the Duchy of Alloje would have had no need to resort to the dirty trick of sending a fake Pero to the Argentas.

Even if a strong flame could evaporate water, fire and water were fundamentally incompatible.

Besides, Diello Argenta, himself, still didn't have his Pero.

“Declaring war would have been faster…”

If their goal was to destroy the Argentas.

But the Allojes hadn't done that.

Why?

Was Pentas, contrary to the rumors, lacking in aptitude?

If so, it made no sense to use Croire, a woman of such ability, as a disposable pawn.

Although, she had likely hidden her true power.

“…”

An accomplice, was it?

Diello recalled the words she had spoken to him on their wedding day.

A short sigh escaped his lips.

“…Even as an accomplice, my bride.”

He said quietly.

You only told me you were a card to make the Allojes let their guard down.

You never said you were such a tempting card.

He let out a troubled laugh.

“If you were going to hide your power, you should have hidden it from me as well.”

After seeing that immense power in the sea, how could he not covet it?

Especially here, in Argenta, where he was destined to protect an infinite sea with his flames.

Diello stepped back from the terrace.

Just then, another informant entered his room.

The informant approached with hurried steps and gave him a silent bow.

“My lord, there is someone who wishes to contact you in secret.”

“In secret?”

Diello raised an eyebrow. The informant bowed his head.

“Yes. She claims to be the real Pero.”

“…Oh.”

Diello let out a short sound of surprise.

For the informant to report this directly, the claimant must have already shown them sufficient proof of being the Pero.

But the informant wasn't finished.

“However… it is someone Your Grace is acquainted with.”

Someone I know?

Diello frowned.

He had a very bad feeling about this.

* * *

“…Hah.”

The moment Diello saw the woman claiming to be the real Pero, he let out a short breath.

It was closer to a sigh of exasperation.

“It’s been a while. I never thought I’d come here of my own accord.”

The woman claiming to be the Pero held up her hands. A worn bracelet dangled from her wrist.

The pure white pearl on the bracelet was dull and faded.

Aside from the accessory, she was empty-handed, her belongings likely confiscated, and she wore no weapon at her hip.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? We haven’t seen each other since we were children.”

The woman with dark brown hair didn't even stand from the sofa when Diello entered.

As reported, she was a woman Diello knew.

“…”

Diello pressed a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.

It was known to the world that his parents, the previous Duke and Duchess Argenta, had died in a carriage accident, but the truth was different.

And contrary to what many believed, Diello knew the truth.

“You must be so happy to see me.”

The woman speaking so shamelessly before him was one who had deserted Argenta when it was in turmoil due to the Allojes’ schemes, just before his parents’ death.

To be precise, she was the one who had provided Duke Alloje with information about the Duke and Duchess Argenta before fleeing.

A traitor to Argenta.

And she was the Pero?

“…Confirmation?”

Diello turned to the informant.

The informant bowed his head respectfully.

“It’s already been done. She is undoubtedly the real Pero.”

The woman who had come as the Pero, Benia, looked up at Diello with a confident expression.

No matter what she had sold in the past—not just Diello’s parents, but other things as well—as long as she was the real Pero, Argenta could not harm her.

Far from harming her, they would have to serve her.

Benia’s smile deepened.

“This is the first time since the late Duke and Duchess Argenta died, I believe. Right?”

The nerve of her to talk so brazenly.

Diello’s eyes narrowed.

Of all the rotten luck.

Of all people, the one he had to try to fall in love with, the Pero, was the one who sold his parents to the enemy.

“Don’t look at me like that. You seem surprised that I walked in here unharmed.”

Benia shrugged.

Diello answered in a low voice.

“A little.”

He then shot a chilling glare at the informant.

What had they been doing, letting a traitor to Argenta just walk in unharmed?

She may be the Pero, but that meant they had stood by until she revealed herself as such, didn't it?

When they should have subdued her on sight?

“Don’t blame them too much. They simply didn’t dare to touch me.”

“…Dare?”

Diello’s eyes narrowed.

In response, Benia tapped her teacup.

And then.

*Splash!*

The tea, empowered by her ‘water ability,’ shot up into the air.

“!”

Diello paused for a moment.

Water manipulation?

How could a former Argenta do that?

But with his keen senses, Diello detected a strange dissonance in the water she wielded.

It felt different from the pure water ability used by Croire or the Allojes.

It felt a bit… murkier.

Just as he was frowning, she spoke.

“I told them not to touch me, since Duke Alloje is behind me.”

“Oh…”

Diello responded with a soulless note of admiration.

That was a blatant lie.

Duke Alloje had already sent Croire, claiming she was the Pero.

‘If he knew this woman was the real Pero, he would have either bribed her or had her killed.’

In fact, Duke Alloje likely had no idea this woman was the real Pero, much less that she was here.

This murky power of hers also didn't seem to have been acquired through normal means.

If the head of a house personally bestowed power, it wouldn't feel like this.

So, what secret was this traitor hiding?

“…”

A deep smile formed on Diello's lips as he sat on the sofa across from Benia.

“I was surprised, though.”

Benia said to him.

She was Diello Argenta’s Pero, after all.

No matter what she did, he couldn't harm her, so she arrogantly draped an arm over the back of the sofa and crossed her legs.

“I never thought *the* Diello Argenta, who couldn’t even properly burn a single flower, let alone a person…”

She uncrossed her legs and leaned closer to Diello.

“Would kill his own parents.”

At those words, Diello raised an eyebrow.

“Duke Alloje may think his plan succeeded, but I, who traveled between Alloje and Argenta at the time, know the truth.”

Benia smiled.

“That Duke Diello Argenta stood by and watched the former Duke and Duchess die.”

Diello’s expression turned chillingly cold.

Benia whispered.

“You could have saved them, but you didn’t. Right?”

Confidence and arrogance radiated from her face.

*I’m the Pero, after all. No matter what I do, you can’t hurt me, right?*

As if reading her thoughts, Diello offered a cold smile.

It was a smile that made him seem like a completely different person from the one he showed Croire.

“—Why did the Pero have to be you?”

Why did the person I have to love have to be someone like you?

At Diello’s lament, Benia burst into laughter.

“I know, right? Why me?”

She pointedly rolled up her sleeve.

The name ‘Diello Argenta’ was clearly etched on her arm.

He wondered if it was intentionally carved like Croire’s, but her arm was damp as if she had already applied a healing salve. Yet the name remained clear.

It meant she was real.

Benia shook her arm.

“I’m not so bad, am I? I knew your little secret and kept my mouth shut.”

*That’s probably because you were afraid of getting caught in Argenta’s information network if you spread rumors,* he thought.

Diello glared at her in silence.

Oblivious to his thoughts, Benia grew even more arrogant and began to prattle on.

“So anyway, what’s with that fake?”

Benia gestured outside.

She must have been referring to Croire.

At the word “fake,” Diello once again felt his insides twist for some unknown reason.

Even though the word “fake” was the truth.

He frowned.