Confession (7)

Cynthia stood beside Alicia with a displeased expression.

Whenever Alicia sought help, Cynthia would smile as if concerned and say things like, “That was really stupid,” only to mock her.

Cynthia’s nonsense made timid Alicia even more withdrawn.

At least Angela Miller, though annoyed, would still look after Alicia.

Of course, even that would turn rough in tone or touch when she got irritated.

Both of them expressed their resentment at being burdened with Alicia through grumbles.

Honestly, even Alicia now agreed that she had been nothing but a burden back then.

A hopeless, heavy load that wouldn’t listen no matter what was said.

But looking back, what the two of them had done was unthinkable among ladies of nobility.

Even if Alicia had slapped them for their rudeness, they’d have had no right to complain.

“Landing a good man is just another one of Lady Alicia’s talents, isn’t it?”

“Cynthia, Lady Alicia is not the type to be overconfident.”

Angela made a pointed remark, pretending not to take Cynthia’s teasing seriously.

How ridiculous.

Alicia barely suppressed a scoff.

This must have been around the time the northern noble ladies from the Miller and Brenel families first appeared in central society.

In the first timeline, they had done nothing noteworthy and returned to the north—but this time, perhaps because of Alicia, their behavior was slightly different.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? I’m really hurt, you know. How could you never reach out to a friend?”

Alicia managed to recall them, but no strong feelings came with it.

They were figures buried deep in old memories.

Even their current antics seemed trivial compared to other matters.

Their transparent attempt to humiliate her was so blatant that it didn’t even make her angry.

A faint smile crossed Alicia’s previously expressionless face and soon bloomed into a bright grin.

Cynthia, who had been raising her voice in front of Alicia, suddenly fell silent.

The Alicia she knew—the timid one—couldn’t even smile like that at her own maids.

Angela’s expression also shifted slightly, a crack forming in her composed mask.

“And who might you be…?”

Alicia’s soft, smiling face spoke with genuine curiosity.

Silence fell instantly.

Though no one showed it openly, everyone was watching Alicia endure humiliation.

Cynthia and Angela felt a wave of unease as even the ambient noise seemed to die down around them.

“Pfft.”

A quiet chuckle echoed through the hush.

Finally, murmurs of amusement and surprise rippled through the crowd.

Somewhere, there was a wheezing giggle like air leaking from a balloon.

It was a banquet at the imperial palace—every invited noble had attended.

With so many central aristocrats gathered, more high-ranking nobles than usual, such as counts and above, were present.

“You! How dare you…”

Cynthia blurted out, flustered.

Angela’s blank face flushed red and pale in turn.

“I’m so sorry. I feel like we may have met somewhere before, but I just can’t recall, my lady.”

Alicia spoke before Cynthia could reply.

Her innocent face slowly shook its head as she looked at Cynthia, then turned to Angela and did the same.

“Your hair…!”

Just as Cynthia was about to shout, Alicia turned her gaze from her to Angela.

“I don’t remember this one at all, but I think I may have seen this lady in passing. Lady… Miller?”

Alicia trailed off, speaking in a gentle tone.

“…Thank you for remembering, Lady Alicia. I’m Angela Miller, we met some time ago.”

“Oh, Lady Angela. I don’t recall clearly, but it’s lovely to see you. Thank you for saying hello.”

“Of course.”

Angela Miller pulled Cynthia, who looked ready to explode, and stepped back.

Alicia didn’t bother to follow or continue the humiliation.

They were figures from a long-forgotten past—not worth the effort.

The party celebrating the birth of the princess was held in the grand theater.

At center stage, seats were prepared for the Emperor, Empress, and the Duchess of Pfalz.

The Emperor and Empress were seated side by side, while the Duchess of Pfalz, the event’s host, sat slightly below them in a separate seat.

The Duchess of Pfalz, now responsible for raising Princess Dorothea, had a luxurious bench seat that made her look every bit the protagonist.

As the party began, the Emperor opened the ball by dancing with the Duchess of Pfalz.

Normally, the Empress would have been his partner, but for this special occasion, it was presented as a gesture of deference.

Other well-dressed concubines had their own seats on the stage, though none as grand as the duchess’s.

Anyone stepping onstage to greet the royal family would feel the pain of their knees buckling.

They had to greet the Emperor and Empress, and then bow according to proper court ranking.

Mistaking a concubine’s rank, name, or face during the greeting meant permanent exile from noble society.

A dance hall was arranged at the front of the stage.

Court musicians played lively, quiet, solemn, and elegant pieces in constant rotation.

In the dance hall, gentlemen and ladies chosen by the hosts led the mood.

A bit away from the hall, a promenade allowed people to stroll.

Even that space wasn’t left empty.

Roulette wheels spun and dice rolled.

Court attendants delivered sweet drinks to nobles placing bets of gold and silver.

Drunken cheers and dice rolls brought a lively hum to what could have been a stiff gathering.

Crowds gathered before glittering dessert bars set up throughout the venue.

Golden ceilings and ornate decorations.

Red carpets in the dance hall.

With the nobles dressed so splendidly, beauty lay in every direction one looked.

People exchanged greetings with joy.

People burst into laughter as they chatted.

Couples searching for partners, finding one, and heading off to dance.

Groups whispering among themselves in the loud venue.

People stepped out to the terrace for conversation, escaping the crowd.

Among these varied scenes, Alicia stood alone, unmoving.

After offering her formal greeting to the royal family on stage, she had almost disappeared from view.

Throughout the hall, there were key figures orchestrating the party—

Either royalty, those close to royalty, or individuals with extensive connections in high society.

Alicia needed to become one of them.

But she had only spoken when Cynthia and Angela appeared before her.

Among the large crowd, there were few bold enough to approach and start a conversation with Alicia, who refrained from actively joining in.

Even when greeted warmly, she maintained a reserved demeanor.

Instead, she kept her eyes fixed on the grand golden ceiling of the theater.

The ceiling painting of a beautiful angel descending from heaven to earth shimmered under the chandeliers’ light.

“You can’t buy that painting.”

A soft voice spoke above Alicia’s head, just as she was captivated by the artwork.

Startled by the unexpected voice, Alicia turned to the side.

There stood Reichardt in formal attire.

He was staring intently at the same ceiling painting Alicia had been gazing at.

“…Your Highness?”

The last time Alicia saw Reichardt, they had parted on a cold note.

Compared to that, the way he now approached and spoke to her seemed almost friendly.

But that wasn’t what surprised Alicia.

“Have you been well? Why are you here alone? Were you unwell? It’s been a while.”

Reichardt Tessen wasn’t much of a talker.

According to his closest aide Roderick, the words he heard most often were “Stand down.”

Henrik, who supported the Grand Duke’s private affairs, heard the same.

Yet this same man now spoke to Alicia without even giving her a chance to reply.

“Have you been well too, Your Highness? I have been well.”

Alicia replied calmly.

It wasn’t easy to speak while managing her complicated thoughts and swirling emotions.

Reichardt wasn’t supposed to be here.

If her memories of the first timeline were correct, Reichardt had skipped Princess Dorothea’s celebration, citing illness.

At the time, the Grand Duke of Tessen had cast doubt on Dorothea’s legitimacy, sparking vicious rumors.

Even now, the rumors about the Grand Duke were far from kind.

And that was what puzzled Alicia.

Reichardt hadn’t done anything to actively threaten the nobles, yet gossip always followed him like a shadow.

On the battlefield, he supposedly wielded a terrifying axe, but in the capital city of Baden, he didn’t even carry anything resembling one.

Even so, the nobility continued to fear and avoid the Grand Duke of Tessen.

More importantly, Reichardt was likely the one who was unwell.

Unwell?

Alicia found it absurd that he would ask her if she’d been sick.

She wasn’t the one who should’ve been asked that—Reichardt was.

If her suspicions were correct and the memories of the first timeline held true, Reichardt must now be enduring a mysterious pain—severe enough that he’d even accept the marriage he once abhorred.

“Did something happen at Luderne? Or… are you in pain?”

There was no sign of pain on Reichardt’s face as he addressed her.

At a glance, at least.

Alicia quietly looked up again at the face that had asked if she was unwell.

Her gaze lingered on the faint crease in his brow.

Reichardt stood straight, but now and then his fingers seemed to twitch upward, as though wanting to press his forehead.

As she suspected—

Reichardt’s condition was deteriorating.

She didn’t know the cause, but the decline was certain.

And she knew what would follow.

Marriage.

Reichardt would end up marrying—a fate he considered worse than death.

He used to tell Alicia not to marry him at every turn, but at this rate, it was only a matter of time before he proposed to her.

A bitter smile threatened to rise at the irony, but Alicia instead gave a polished smile—the kind expected in social settings.

It was harmless, soft, and completely insincere.

Reichardt, who had watched Alicia closely, recognized the smile.

She rarely showed that expression to him.

Was it because of all the eyes watching them? As he pondered, Alicia suddenly reached out and grabbed his hands.

“Your Highness, a dance?”

Alicia raised her voice just enough to be heard, as if on purpose.

Her face, bearing a troubled yet innocent smile, looked straight at Reichardt.

“…You wanted to dance?”

Reichardt felt a moment of clarity as the unpleasant buzzing in his head vanished.

Lately, his worsening condition has made him more irritable.

The disgusting, insect-like noise gnawing at his brain never stopped—and was often accompanied by searing pain, like when Rua rose.

He suppressed the pain so well that it felt like he was going mad just to maintain composure.

He hadn’t planned to attend the party tonight because of the pain.

In fact, unless it was an urgent matter, he typically avoided crowded places.

Unless he had a private audience with the Emperor, he often didn’t come to the palace at all.

Whenever he clutched his head or let out a groan, rumors spread even without anyone needing to hear the details.

Things like: “The cursed Grand Duke of Tessen is turning into a demon.”

“The Grand Duke of Tessen has a fatal illness.”

There were even whispers that he might already be dead.

So why had Reichardt come to such a public, scrutinized event?

Because of Alicia.

He had rushed to the palace the moment he heard that Alicia—who had remained secluded in Luderne for nearly a month—would be attending.

Contrary to the troubling rumors, Alicia looked… well.