IDLYITL CH 9

Chapter 9

• ────── ✦ ────── •

Viscount Warren

Clang!

The chattering women giggling behind the partition fell silent and turned their heads toward the source of the noise. Underneath the green partition, shards of a broken teacup lay scattered, reddish-brown puddle of tea stained the floor.

“Oh my, are you alright, Madam?”

The attention of the other women in the teahouse immediately converged on one spot.

When a staff member hurried to remove the partition, a woman was seated at the window. The women who had been gossiping gasped. Everyone in the teahouse instinctively knew that the woman was the princess from the rumours.

What’s more, it was her expression. There was something chilling about her face, as if her soul had left her body.

They had talked openly about her, half-expecting her to be there, but seeing a woman of only twenty with such a frigid expression made the gossiping women's hearts sink.

“Are you alright, Madam?”

“I'm fine.”

Answering calmly, she lifted her eyes and turned toward the women sitting at the edge of the teahouse. The women flinched. Psyche stared at them for a moment before calling Anna.

“We should go, Anna.”

“Yes? Oh, yes!”

Psyche and Anna circled around the staff cleaning the spilled tea and slowly passed by the flustered women, whose faces had gone pale.

“A-ahem…”

The women covered their faces with their fans, desperately looking away and pretending they hadn't been talking. Only after Psyche’s footsteps faded down the stairs and she disappeared from sight did they finally release the breath they had been holding.

“I thought she was a clueless, innocent naïve girl… but she did that on purpose just now, didn’t she? Breaking the teacup!”

“I know, right. She wouldn't possibly tell the duke, would she?”

“It’ll be fine. She's just a woman who was sold to that monster, what could she possibly do…”

Despite their words, the women couldn't hide their anxiety and looked at each other nervously. Madam Tilly had spread rumours that the new duchess was a sweet and foolish princess, but the impression the Duchess gave was quite different.

• ───────── ☽༓☾ ───────── •

After having Anna pay for the broken teacup, the two left the teahouse. Anna followed Psyche, but she couldn't bring herself to ask if she was alright.

In just a week, Psyche Dawson had changed beyond recognition. When asked if she was alright, she would mechanically reply that she was fine. But a momentary glimpse of her face revealed a profound loneliness.

Detached… yet sorrowful.

She was so happy to see the duke again, even when she was entering into a political marriage with a man they call a monster…

Anna frowned, unable to understand her mistress's heart.

“Madam.”

“Hmm?”

Psyche looked at Anna with a puzzled expression. Anna tried her best to suppress a sigh.

“Please don’t take what they say to heart. It’s all a bunch of lies, isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

It was meant to be a comforting statement, but Psyche’s reply sounded oddly empty. Her disconnected demeanour made Anna even more uneasy, as if something in her was broken.

After a brief silence, Psyche spoke quietly, as if deep in thought.

“Well, it’s true that he and I haven't slept together. That one part is a lie.”

“Huh?”

“I said you're right. All the things those people say are nonsense. They're just talking without knowing anything.”

Murmuring hollowly, Psyche looked into Anna’s eyes and gave a faint, strained smile. Anna stared blankly at her mistress.

Just then, a carriage stopped in front of them and stepped aside.

Are they perhaps a teahouse customer?

As the carriage door opened, Psyche’s eyes widened. A man was being helped down and then sat in a wheelchair prepared by his attendant.

“Oh, so it really was you, Psyche.”

“You are…”

“What a coincidence, meeting you here.”

Upon seeing the man's face, Psyche's heart began to pound as if she had seen something she shouldn’t have.

Why is this man here?

The noblewomen gathered in Lacon Square blushed at the sight of the man's dazzling beauty. But Psyche was strangely immune to it. To be precise, it was an immunity she had developed from loving his face for so long and even becoming his wife. The man’s face was identical to her husband’s. Except for three moles, they looked like reflections in a mirror.

Psyche's voice trembled.

“Lord… Warren.”

Warren smiled, the corners of his eyes curving gently upward.

• ───────── ☽༓☾ ───────── •

There was a famous story in the Empire.

The one and only ducal couple lost their young son in an accident. The couple searched everywhere for him but could never find him, and in their despair, they eventually adopted a child who looked like their son.

The conditions were that the boy must have hair darker than black pearls and eyes as clear as topaz. He also had to be beautiful and intelligent beyond his years. Those two conditions were easier to meet than finding their real son. When the duke and duchess wiped the dirt from an orphan boy’s face, they gasped in admiration.

“He looks exactly like our Warren!”

“Indeed. He’s a spitting image, except for the three moles on his face.”

The ducal couple's biological son had two moles on his right cheek and one next to his lip, which the orphan lacked. But they were satisfied with this much.

They adopted the orphan and educated him to become the perfect successor.

Strictly speaking, the orphan was an imitation. He looked similar to the original on the outside, but his essence was very different. His thoughts, gait, and etiquette could never be a perfect match.

For this reason, the ducal couple hired several tutors and demanded that he be educated strictly. They even allowed corporal punishment. At times, the couple would beat him brutally.

“You have to be perfect. Only then will you be my son. My real son.”

The couple whispered to the orphan as if trying to hypnotize him. Their words were a painkiller and a stimulant for the orphan— a kind of drug.

Then one day, the couple’s biological son returned. The couple's biological son, with the three brown moles on his face.  In that situation, it was only natural that the substitute, the orphan who had lived in his place, would be cast out.

• ───────── ☽༓☾ ───────── •

“Lord Warren… no, Viscount.”

Psyche looked down at Warren with a pale face. Warren was destined to be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life because his legs would never function again. Every time Psyche looked at them, she would become uncomfortable. After all, those legs were ruined by her husband.

“What a coincidence to meet you here, Princess.”

Warren gave her a refreshing smile, but Psyche was in no mood to laugh.

“Oh, I should call you Duchess now, shouldn't I?”

While Ikali and Warren had similar faces, Warren was a more cheerful man who smiled more often than Ikali.

The way they smiled was also slightly different. When Warren smiled, the corners of his eyes curved softly, and the gaze of women was naturally drawn to him. If he hadn’t been crippled, his looks alone would have made him the most eligible bachelor.

And with her husband being the one who had made his legs useless for good, could there be a more awkward encounter than this?

The noblewomen in Lacon Square all turned their attention to the two. For them, there couldn’t have been a better spectacle. It was too late to ignore him and walk past.

“You… must have had some business in the square.”

“I’ve been terribly busy managing the territory I’ve recently recovered, but not so busy that I can’t get a bit of fresh air.”

Warren kept smiling at her as if he found everything amusing. Psyche was very uncomfortable having a long conversation with the man her husband had crippled and who had been her former fiancé. It was the same before she regressed and it was the same now. Psyche pretended to be busy to end the conversation.

“I see. I hope you can finish your business quickly. We’re on our way back to the manor.”

“Going back already? The sun is still high in the sky.”

It sounded as though Warren intended to invite her for tea.

“I only came for a cup of tea. I'm not feeling well.”

Warren changed the subject, pretending not to have heard her.

“I’ve heard the news. You declined the invitation to Marchioness Williams’s salon, didn’t you?”

Psyche, about to turn away, gave Warren a strange look.

“That news reached you already, Viscount?”

“I wasn’t trying to listen in, but I just happened to stop by the Williams manor for a chat with the Marquess and happened to overhear it.”

“I see.”

“The Marchioness seemed quite disappointed. She was so happy at the thought of hosting you at her salon… What a shame.”

Psyche's eyebrows drooped. More than disappointing the marchioness, this situation was maddeningly uncomfortable.

“Why don’t you reconsider and attend the salon? I hear you haven't yet participated in the imperial capital's social scene, and what better social opportunity could there be for a person from Dawson?”

“…”

“If you stay in the manor all day like this, the other noblewomen will be so impatient to meet you. The one and only Duchess of the Empire.”

Warren continued to press her with a pleasant smile. When she remained silent, Warren nodded.

“Oh, I see… Is it because of me?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“If you're worried that my presence at the salon will make you uncomfortable, you don't have to be.”

“No, I…”

“If you’re uncomfortable being with me, please just tell me honestly. It’s my fault for not considering your feelings.” 

Chapter 8

Chapter List

Chapter 10