"What the hell did you do?"
It was the last day of the victory banquet. Sharp words rained down on me without filter.
Standing before me, my father—the Duke of Madeleine—glared with eyes cold enough to freeze everything in sight.
"You whispered something to him, didn't you? That's why Grand Duke Vikander proposed to you—the Crown Prince's fiancée."
Contempt flickered in the amethyst eyes that looked down at me.
"One task. Just one. Was it so difficult to become Crown Princess without causing a scandal?"
Just like always. It was at that moment—while I stood there silently enduring his sharp criticism as I always had—that I burst into laughter.
The Duke raised his eyebrows in displeasure, but I couldn't stop laughing.
Oh my God. How can he so completely sever whatever lingering feelings I had left?
The Duke would never know. Could never understand what I'd felt when I followed him through that banquet hall earlier. What expectations I'd carried—now shattered so miserably.
"Can't you answer me right away?"
"If I told you, would you believe me anyway?"
"What?"
A sharp gaze pierced through me. I had always endured that gaze, always believing that someday—someday—those eyes would look at me kindly. That he would finally acknowledge me as his daughter. I had never doubted it.
There was a time when I'd been happy just seeing the Duke's silver hair—the same color as mine—sharing the defining characteristic of House Madeleine.
Not anymore.
My efforts ended here. I had done my best. Now, I smiled sweetly.
"Then I'll tell you. I never whispered anything to His Highness about proposing to me. And even after years of engagement, he ignored me completely while staying friendly with Lady Ethella."
"That mouth—shut it!"
"The person who brought me to this mansion and sent me as His Highness's fiancée instead of Ethella—that was you, Duke. You're standing right in front of me."
"I said shut up!"
A ferocious roar shook the night. The sound of birds flying away in panic echoed loudly.
Duke Madeleine glared at me as if he'd finally lost his temper. His purple eyes flashed red, as though a blood vessel had burst.
"It's because of you! You! If you... if you hadn't come to my house, none of this would have happened! You made me unhappy! It's all because of you!"
Each syllable dripped with bitter anger. The Duke released a heavy breath.
There was a time when I'd doubted myself—wondered if it really was my fault—because his hatred was so intense.
"Then and now."
"..."
"I really didn't do anything."
"..."
"I didn't make you unhappy, Duke."
"Olivia Madeleine! How dare you—!"
I didn't lower my head anymore, despite the Duke's fury.
It was strange. The Duke, who had always felt so great and terrifying, no longer frightened me. It really did seem like it was time to end this.
"You said you wanted to erase me, didn't you?"
"If I could, I would erase you from my life entirely."
Even though it was a memory from just a few days ago, the Duke's voice—spitting those words like vomit—remained crystal clear. Words that had once felt like they'd tear my heart apart now left me numb.
"Me too. This name—Madeleine—it's attached to me."
Madeleine. The surname I had longed for. The family I'd held onto with all my might. The family I'd loved unrequitedly with my entire life.
And my outer family—who had never once looked back.
I smiled lightheartedly at all those one-sided affections.
"Madeleine. Everything about it—I will erase it."
Slowly, the relationship that only I had been pulling on finally fell away.
---
"Olivia!!"
Along with the Duke's shout, a flash of murderous intent washed over my entire body. I held myself upright despite the ferocious aura that even tightened my breathing.
That was the last bit of pride I wanted to keep.
"Stop there."
At that moment, the sound of footsteps interrupted us.
"If you pose any further threat to my precious lady, you will turn all of Vikander into your enemy. Duke."
The refined voice enveloped me warmly.
The Duke gritted his teeth and muttered lowly.
"...Grand Duke Vikander... Your Highness."
I looked back.
Ruby-red eyes glinting beneath hair as black as a raven's feathers. A gorgeously handsome man—unbelievably beautiful despite the ugly nicknames attached to him: murderer, blood demon.
He had worn an expressionless face all evening, but the moment he looked at me, he smiled sweetly.
It was strange.
No family member, no fiancé—no one I'd ever tried so desperately hard for—had ever looked at me that way.
"When you've finished your business, I would like the opportunity to escort you home, my lady."
So kindly. So sweetly.
With the eyes I had always longed for.
---
Early morning at House Madeleine. A voice echoed on the stairs—the sound announcing the Duke's arrival.
"Good morning."
Taking advantage of the gap in his conversation with his adjutant, I greeted him.
The Duke frowned.
For fourteen years—since I was six years old—I'd watched him make that face. But I never got used to the pain of a pounding heart. Eyes that looked at me worse than a stranger.
I pretended not to notice and smiled, holding out the tray. As on any morning, there was his vegetable juice.
"I made it with vegetables that are good for blood vessels."
Before I could finish my words, the Duke moved again—walking right past me.
The adjutant following the Duke, Lord Huxley, bowed his head with an even more embarrassed expression and hurried after him.
I muttered the words I couldn't get out of my mouth as I looked at that cold, retreating back.
Goodbye, Father.
I hadn't succeeded today. Handing over the vegetable juice I'd been making for years, offering greetings, calling him Father—but it was something that might succeed someday.
That expectation had sustained me for fourteen years.
Because my mother had told me so. If you do your best, that wish will come true someday.
I shrugged my shoulders, trying to shake off the disappointment, and lifted my head.
The huge portrait hanging in the center of the first-floor hall caught my eye.
Father sitting in the chair. The eldest son, Conrad, and second son, Jade, standing firmly to his right. The youngest daughter, Ethella, standing to his left and smiling brightly.
I smiled looking at myself, standing awkwardly next to Ethella.
The reason I looked particularly awkward in that portrait probably wasn't just the distance between us.
Silver hair that looked like it was spun from moonlight. Sparkling purple eyes—the long-standing characteristics of House Madeleine.
Contrary to everyone else, my eyes were green.
Society called it an embarrassing green, resembling a wandering dancer's eyes. But I liked my eyes. They were the only trace I'd inherited from my mother.
Still, I regretted it a little.
If I had purple eyes like Ethella, would my family's attitude toward me be even a little different?
Envy passed through my green eyes as I looked at Ethella in the portrait. But then I shook my head.
The youngest daughter, Ethella—who looked exactly like the late Duchess, once called the flower of high society—grew brighter and more beloved by the day.
I couldn't follow Ethella just by having the same eye color.
Above all, Ethella was—
"Sister! Did you wake up already? What about Father?"
—so genuinely kind and lovable.
As befitting a bright seventeen-year-old, Ethella rubbed her drowsy eyes as she came down the stairs.
I deliberately spoke coldly.
"He already left for work."
"Oh, I came down as soon as I woke up, but I'm too late today."
Ethella looked toward the doorway with regret, then approached me.
"By the way, Sister, I heard that a very unique and pretty flower arrangement was featured at Her Highness's tea party this time. Did you hear about it? I heard it was the first time this design was showcased, but when I heard the description, I felt like I'd seen it somewhere before..."
Ethella's voice softened knowingly.
The Crown Princess often assigned me tasks. One of my duties this time had been creating a new flower arrangement. The design I'd agonized over for several days became popular—as always—under the Princess's name.
It was said to be popular enough that the story reached even Ethella, who never attended those tea parties.
"That one I saw in your room—"
"I received some from Her Highness before the tea party. If you like it, I can send some to your room."
I said it dryly.
As if my answer was different from what she'd expected, Ethella's face showed a flicker of disappointment—but she quickly pretended not to notice.
"Thank you! Oh, and my friend Veronia is hosting a tea party today. Could you come with me? She brags about her cousin's sister a lot."
Ethella looked at me with expectant eyes—two sparkling orbs and a flushed face.
Looking at her expression, the words I'd been about to cut off ruthlessly wouldn't come out.
"Um, I—"
"Ethella."
A soft voice rose from above me. Ethella looked up at the stairs, her eyes twinkling.
It was Conrad.
"Brother!"
Ethella naturally ran to Conrad and wrapped her arms around his neck. Conrad lightly hugged her back, then met my gaze with cool eyes.
I knew better than anyone that his eyes carried a warning: Don't get close to Ethella.
Conrad asked affectionately, "What were you two talking about?"
"Oh, I was asking Sister to come with me to Veronia's tea party!"
"Really? By the way, Olivia—it's Wednesday today. Haven't you left yet?"
"Oh, right! Was it today? His Highness the Crown Prince will be waiting for you!"
Conrad naturally changed the subject. Ethella nodded, as if remembering why she couldn't ask me anymore.
"I know. Thank you, Brother."
Conrad's face distorted just slightly, but I pretended not to notice.
I like being called Conrad's brother. I just like having family. I like even that small connection.
"Then, Sister—I'll definitely go with you next time! Next time, I'll make sure to ask you earlier!"
Ethella looked at me with genuine regret.
I avoided her gaze. No matter how early she asked me next time, I wouldn't be able to go with Ethella.
"You didn't even ask me to come with you, Ethella?"
"What would I do going with you? Everyone would only look at you anyway!"
Conrad laughed softly, teasingly. He glanced back at me as if remembering something, then spoke to Ethella.
"Sister! You didn't forget about dinner tonight, right? Come back safely!"
Ethella waved vigorously and ran back up the stairs. Conrad, who had been following her, spoke coldly over his shoulder.
"Be faithful to your duties. Don't even think about approaching Ethella."
The sharp voice stabbed into me.
I watched his back as he walked away as if nothing had happened, then held my breath and exhaled slowly.
Since I was six years old, this had been my way of clearing the hurt that accumulated each day at House Madeleine.
Usually, that was enough to make it go away.
But today—even after I returned to my room—the hurt that had piled up wouldn't disappear.
I opened my drawer and took out the diary I was currently writing—one of five stacked diaries—and opened it. I smiled bitterly.
"Oh... I've written everything down to the end."
I muttered at the tightly packed letters filling every page. It was time to buy another one.
As I was about to put the diary back, the first one—exceptionally worn—caught my eye.
I opened it.
Today, I called Ethella too casually. I was told it wasn't aristocratic and that I need to fix it. From now on, never do that.
My dining etiquette was poor. Father said I have poor taste. I should never do that.
Let's keep trying, Olivia. Let's not make mistakes. Keep doing your best.
The letters were smudged here and there. The paper had wept.
Still, thanks to this diary, I'd been able to improve. I always wrote down what was pointed out and tried not to repeat those mistakes.
So these tear-stained marks weren't a big deal.
My hand stopped as I flipped through the diary pages.