~Chapter 96~
Time to Leave Home
The rumor that the heir of Astria had become a living corpse quickly spread beyond the mansion.
Although the Duke strictly ordered the servants to keep quiet, Karsian wasn’t the only one with informants inside the house. Within just a few days, letters came pouring in from all directions.
The quickest and most eager to make contact were none other than the Astria family’s distant relatives.
Of course.
Now that Damian’s position was effectively vacant, and with Nora engaged to the Crown Prince and Eleanor publicly dismissed as a fake, the most likely successor would be someone from a distant family.
The relatives wrote letters overflowing with fake concern, claiming they wished to visit the house immediately to comfort poor Damian.
The Duke found their letters insulting and was absolutely enraged.
“What, do they think I’ll die in the next few years? How dare those nobodies…!”
There was a reason why noble families never left the heir’s seat empty — in case the family head suddenly passed away.
But Duke Caleb Astria had once been one of the most formidable generals in the kingdom. Even now, his physical strength rivaled many young knights. With no signs of war approaching and no illness to speak of, he was unlikely to die anytime soon.
So there was absolutely no reason to hand the succession over to some half-forgotten distant relative.
At least, that’s what he believed.
‘I’ll just produce a new heir.’
A true heir without any “dirty blood.” The Duke clenched his teeth.
No—more precisely…
Rustle.
He reached into the deepest drawer of his desk and slowly took something out. A delicately carved blue gemstone glimmered in his hand.
It was a woman’s necklace — an old-fashioned design with a central emerald, surrounded by ornate silver. It had been out of fashion for decades, and the gemstone wasn’t even particularly fine. But Duke held it with affection, as if it were a priceless treasure.
‘A heir with clean blood.’
He stared at the necklace in silence.
For a moment, it almost felt like he could see someone’s face reflected in the cracked gem… But when he looked closer, it was gone.
A clean bloodline.
He needed an heir who carried both his blood and Meredith’s blood.
Only such a child would be worthy of inheriting Astria.
Even if it took years — the next heir must meet that one condition.
Now that Damian had lost the ability to have children, there was only one way to achieve this—
The true daughter of Astria must give birth.
‘Which one is real — Nora or Ellie?’
A question he thought he’d abandoned long ago returned with full force.
Until now, Duke had treated Nora as the real daughter, not because he truly believed it, but because it was more profitable at the time. Looking back, it had been a poor decision.
Between Nora and Eleanor, he still wasn’t sure which was truly his blood.
Appearance-wise, Eleanor looked far more like her mother.
Her long, almond-shaped eyes, slim face, and elegant features — they were a perfect copy of Meredith Alchestys.
Perhaps that was why Duke had sometimes caught himself thinking she must be his true daughter… the same girl who had led Meredith to her death that day.
That was why, when he hit her, he had always done so harder than he intended.
But one problem remained: Eleanor had no memories.
Even now, she claimed to recall nothing before the age of five.
If she had any memories at all, she would’ve said something by now — but she hadn’t.
On the other hand, Nora remembered quite a bit.
She had recalled specific details from the past — things even the current servants of the Astria estate didn’t know.
That alone seemed like proof enough.
‘It must be Nora.’
Oddly, Duke had never once suspected that Eleanor might be faking her memory loss.
Not because he lacked intelligence, but because he had zero empathy for Eleanor’s suffering.
He couldn’t imagine any reason why she would pretend to be a fake — even after everything he had done to her.
Now, if Nora truly was the real one, things were a bit trickier.
Her fiancé, Arlo, had become impotent.
But that wasn’t a major difference.
‘The child isn’t born from the father’s womb anyway.’
All the public would see was Nora’s pregnant belly.
And no one could prove whose blood ran in the child’s veins.
Frankly, Duke doubted Arlo’s seed was any good to begin with.
What mattered was this:
That through each generation, the noble bloodline must remain unbroken.
With that thought, Duke once again stared down at the blue necklace.
In his mind, he could once more see Meredith — smiling as she received that necklace decades ago. A memory he never tired of regaining.
***
In front of the Duke’s study—
A slender knight stood fidgeting, visibly anxious.
His pale, worn face belonged to Dante Miller, Damian’s former bodyguard.
Dante had failed to protect Damian — yet he was still alive.
His survival was thanks to one key detail: the changing circumstances.
That night, after being knocked out by Grand Duke Royster, Dante had regained consciousness at Hotel Mercedes.
Damian had beaten him viciously for failing to protect him, and Dante, unable to raise a hand against his own master, had been seriously injured and passed out. He was later found by a hotel cleaner.
In a twisted way, it had saved him.
Because of that, Dante was neither punished for treason nor blamed as the reason Damian had become what he was.
Because Damian had always been a terrible person, no one questioned the excuse that he had been beaten just out of frustration. And since Damian had forgotten how to speak, he would never be able to reveal the truth anyway.
Still, Dante had found himself drawn to the front of the Duke’s study, led there by a growing sense of unease.
“Should I tell him or not?”
Dante Miller, a twenty-eight-year-old knight, hadn’t yet told the Duke what had happened that afternoon between Damian, Eleanor, and Duke Royster. After all, saying that the Duke had hit Damian would be like admitting his own failure to protect his master.
The Duke, having lost his heir, had been so furious that it sent chills down Dante’s spine. From years of experience, Dante knew that approaching him in this state would only lead to trouble. So, he kept his mouth shut, telling himself it wasn’t that relevant to the current incident anyway.
But as time passed and the Duke’s ordered investigations began to yield results, Dante grew more and more nervous.
“What if what I’m hiding comes out? I might get blamed for things I didn’t even do.”
He swallowed hard at the thought of the Duke’s terrifying face.
Just as he was about to take a step forward—
“I don’t think that would be a wise choice, Sir Dante.”
“M-Miss Ellie?”
Dante jumped in surprise. He hadn’t even noticed Eleanor approaching, despite her wearing a dress. As a knight, it was a disgrace not to sense someone coming.
Eleanor smiled lightly at his reaction.
She had learned how to move silently as a child in the orphanage—how else could she steal bread from other kids? Of course, it wouldn’t work on skilled knights like Ernst, but she had gotten lucky this time.
“What happened that day has nothing to do with this incident. No one saw it; no one overheard it. So if you bring it up now, all you’ll do is stir my father’s anger. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
“Well…”
“If it was only my father’s anger, that might be fine. But the Duke of Royster might also take notice of your loose lips. As you know, I’ve agreed to become his mistress. And he hates people who bother him. Are you really ready to handle all that?”
It was a clear threat. If Dante spoke up, he’d not only anger the Duke but also turn Royster against him.
Dante swallowed again.
Eleanor looked at him with what seemed like sympathy and added,
“I’m just giving you a warning because I care. Damian never really respected you, did he? So think carefully. It’s your choice.”
With that, she turned and left just as suddenly as she’d appeared.
Dante stared at her retreating figure for a long time in silence.
Eventually, he made his decision and slowly turned around.
He walked past the Duke’s study without a hint of hesitation.
***
Friday Morning.
A small party was held in Eleanor’s room.
Only three people attended—Eleanor, Hilda, and Ernst. The reason? To celebrate the end of the dreaded “Friday mandatory breakfast.”
Eleanor and Hilda sat happily at the table, enjoying warm bread, fresh salad, crispy bacon, and coffee. Ernst, being on duty and quite strict, didn’t eat but simply sat nearby.
“So what happened to that guy Milo?”
Hilda asked as she shoved an entire strip of bacon into her mouth.
Eleanor sipped her coffee and replied calmly:
“He moved. I arranged a home for him a bit far from the city center. And he’s going to take care of the animals that were used in the incident.”
“A house in Cardiff? That’s great! Honestly, without your help, he wouldn’t have gotten his revenge or a new home.”
“Well, he helped me, too. I just paid him what he earned.”
“Either way, I’m glad everything ended well. No more Friday breakfasts, your leg’s healing… Today’s a good day!”
Eleanor looked down at her leg.
At some point, the pain had faded.
She carelessly lifted her dress to check, causing Ernst to quickly turn his head away. His face flushed red as he focused intensely on a speck of dust in the air. Sadly, Eleanor didn’t notice and kept looking at her leg.
The wounds looked better than before. The marks from her father’s whipping had faded a little with time.
There were still many scars, and to others, they might look horrifying—but to her, it wasn’t so bad.
“Time for the next revenge.”
Her next target was obvious: her father.
He was the root of all her suffering. The one who had turned her into this.
And after that final revenge…
“It’ll be time to leave this house.”
Finally, she would be free.
