The matter was settled well enough, but not everything flowed in a good direction.

Public sympathy is never a blessing.

For an actor, especially, the best is to be a blank white page, free of any fixed image—so that no matter the role, people can focus on the character.

If they cannot, if audiences keep recalling the actor’s real life and smothering them with pity, that actor will not last long.

Of course, I lasted.

I played a villain who tormented the protagonist viciously, swallowed every curse under the sun, and swept all the awards that year.

In any case, the conclusion is this: I am very much like Camilla, who received no proper love from her parents or anyone around her.

Camilla received none of her mother’s love. The same was true for her brother, Ravi.

After entering the ducal house, it grew worse. Everyone treated her as if she did not exist.

Ah, there is one exception.

Maid Donna.

Only that girl had treated Camilla sincerely from long ago—strangely so.

Aside from Donna, everyone’s attitude toward Camilla was the same.

As for me, apart from my parents, I had never been especially close to those around me, either.

I never managed to close the distance beyond a certain point. People who liked me at first would feel uneasy once I drew near and pull away.

If I had not become an actress, perhaps I would have lived a life not much different from Camilla’s.

Would I have grown parched for affection and gone steadily mad?

As Camilla did.

Camilla, who swallowed the words she wanted to say and forever watched her family’s mood.

She wanted only one thing.

Affection. A family’s love.

It was why she did whatever Ravi told her. It was why she remained at table before food she could not eat, to the end—because she hungered for affection.

The wish to spend even a little time together as family. The wish not to be thrown away.

I, as an actress, received the public’s love.

Even if it was a flimsy affection for a surface image, it was enough.

But for Camilla, there was no one.

Perhaps that is why—frustrating and exasperating as it was—I always rooted for her life. Because she and I were too alike.

Because I know too well how horrific it is to die at your family’s hands.

It was for the same reason I came here: I kept thinking of Ravi, standing alone among other families, as I had once stood.

“Hey, what are you thinking about so hard?”

“......!”

Lost for a moment in the past, Camilla flinched at Ravi’s voice close by.

“What? Why so startled?”

“No reason...”

Ravi looked at her in silence for a breath, then turned and started ahead toward the hall’s entrance.

“Sigh.”

Shouldn’t have come?

As always, Ravi turned his back to her. A small sigh slipped from Camilla’s lips.

It was the reaction she had expected, and yet—today, for some reason, her strength ran out of her.

Can I keep enduring like this?

Among people so cold—can I? Will I end up isolated and going mad, like Camilla...?

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“......?”

Camilla, standing dazed, lifted her gaze. Ravi, a few steps ahead, was looking back at her.

“Not coming?”

“......”

“Hurry up.”

Camilla could not speak for a while as she watched him wait for her.

Then she let a faint smile rise and walked a little faster toward him.

“Brother, you know what?”

“Know what?”

“Your face is prettier from the front than the back.”

“...What are you even saying?”

At Ravi’s baffled expression, Camilla’s laughter rang a little brighter.

Chapter. Ludville Sorpel

“Quiet.”

The ducal house was so still, one might doubt this was the place that had held a banquet last night.

Out to cut flowers as always for the Duke’s study, Camilla felt the ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) air of the house even more hushed than usual.

They mean to let him rest.

Everyone seemed to be minding Ludville, who had returned from war after so long. The whole household was holding its breath so he could sleep.

I won’t get called to account for yesterday, will I?

Camilla and Ravi returned home only late in the evening yesterday.

When she suggested they eat dinner before heading back, Ravi—uncharacteristically—nodded at once.

He must have hated it too.

He had no wish to join a party of people singing hymns to Ludville and clap along.

By the time the two had spent as much time outside as they could and come home, the banquet was already winding down.

Ravi said they should at least offer greetings and headed toward the hall, but Camilla went straight to her room.

To the butler she offered the excuse that she was too tired to make the rounds.

I’m not ready yet...

Truthfully, it felt extremely awkward—to face Ludville, the eldest son of this house, head-on.

Because I died at his hands the most.

My heart stabbed, my neck cut—by every method imaginable, I died by him. I could hardly count the number.

As it was when I first faced the Duke of Sorpel.

I had been dragged to my death on his orders so many times that even meeting him the first time left me sweating.

My fingertips trembled. The pounding of my heart battered my ears. I expected to hear at any moment: take her out.

At least the Duke’s face can be read.

He is cool by nature, but at least you can see dislike and fondness, anger and pleasure, on his face.

But Ludville—there was no telling.

He’s exactly what he looks like.

And what does he look like...?

Ugh.

I don’t know.

Letting out a long sigh, Camilla went back to cutting flowers. Mending her relationship with Ludville was a lost cause.

Focus on one man.

Even if she gave up on Ludville, if she could only hold on to the Duke of Sorpel’s favor, she would not die.

...I won’t die, right?

Ugh.

“Just cut the flowers.”

Had it rained before dawn? The ground was moist.

Camilla looked from the slick earth to the shoes on her feet and sighed.

Maybe I should invent sneakers and sell them.

She was wearing a pair of pumps with a modest heel—by no measure comfortable.

They were the lowest heels she owned, but they were still ill-suited to walking a dirt path after rain.

“Ah!”

One foot slid over the wet soil as she took a step.

However—

“Heh.”

This much was nothing.

Camilla wore a pleased look.

As a popular actress, she had walked the runway now and then. She was often named the actress who walked in fashion shows the most in the country, if not a world-class model.

Fifteen-centimeter heels were the baseline.

She had strutted over slick, glass-like stages in towering heels, acting with her face the whole way.

This level of balance was child’s play.

She tossed back her tousled hair with a hand and flashed a grin—then turned at the prickle of a strange gaze.

And froze.

“......”

Hair white as snow; blue eyes made brighter by it; a jawline sharp as paper; and, lastly, a blank face that fit all of it too well.

Damn.

Camilla barely swallowed the curse that surged up. What an ill-timed encounter.

She had known they would have to face each other today, but not first thing in the morning.

Standing before her was Ludville.

But what is he doing?

She swallowed dry against the tension, then looked at him in puzzlement.

His posture was odd.

One hand and one foot were forward, as if he had been striding toward her and then froze mid-motion...

“......?”

“......”

He was the first to break eye contact. Without a word, he moved to go around her.

“B—Brother!”

Camilla called out in haste.

Even if she intended to cling to the Duke alone, there was no need to make an enemy of Ludville.

Best to avoid pricking his temper and keep things smooth.

She stepped toward him.

His indifferent gaze still made her heart go taut, but she forced a smile to her lips.

Whump.

And she filled his arms with flowers. Anything to break this awkward air, she needed to put something in his hands.

“A welcome gift.”

Camilla smiled as brightly as she could.

“......”

Truly, as brightly as she could.

“......”

Very bright—no? Not this?

Why? What? It suits you.

Flowers are made for men, too!

With that face and flowers in his arms, he was dazzling. So dazzling that—

I should run.

Damn.

Shouldn’t have given the flowers?

“Th-then, see you later.”

She gave a vague wave and hurried away.

“......”

Ludville watched her flee, his gaze as indifferent as ever.

****

“Lord Ludville?”

Butler Rube, walking the corridor, widened his eyes at the sight of Ludville approaching from the other end.

“Why the flowers?”

Arms full of white mist-flowers, Ludville drew every eye. Everyone who met him with flowers was recoiling in shock.

F—flowers?

Lord Ludville, with flowers?

Rube was no different. He did not gape like the others, but he was surprised.

The man himself was perfectly calm.

“I received them.”

“Pardon?”

Now Rube’s mouth fell open.

Who had the guts to thrust flowers at Ludville, of all people?

Wait...

Mist-flowers?

Rube looked anew at the bouquet in Ludville’s arms and could guess who had given them.

“Allow me. I’ll carry them for you.”

“......”

“Lord Ludville?”

“No.”

“Sir?”

“They’re mine.”

“I don’t mean to take—”

“It’s a first.”

“A first?”

“That girl...”

“......?”

“......”

Rube waited for his next words. But—

Step.

“Huh?”

Ludville passed him by, as if he had said all he intended to say.

“Hah...”

Our young master hasn’t changed.

Watching Ludville keep the flowers all the way down the corridor, earning shocked stares with every step, Rube let out a small laugh.

Meanwhile, as he walked, Ludville looked again at the flowers Camilla had given him.

That girl...

Brother.

Isn’t it the first time?

That she called me so.

A welcome gift.

That she smiled so brightly, too.

All the way down the hall, his gaze would not leave the mist-flowers.