I Became the Heroine’s Stand-in - Chapter 63

The figure lying on the bed was deathly pale, so much so that he looked no different from a corpse.

With trembling hands, Diana reached out and placed a finger beneath his nose. A faint breath ghosted against her skin, finally easing the tight knot in her chest.

According to the imperial physician, the antidote had been successfully administered, and the immediate danger had passed.

“Had the poison been even slightly stronger, he would have been left crippled.”

If things had gone just a little differently, he wouldn’t have just lost the ability to wield a sword—he would have lost the ability to walk, to perform even the most basic tasks of daily life.

It was a chilling thought.

“Evan.”

“……”

“Wake up. Now.”

It had already been three hours since the physician had come and gone, yet Ersivan showed no signs of stirring.

Diana knew he wasn’t the kind of man who would die from mere poison.

Even the physician, who was far more knowledgeable than she was, had assured them of his survival. There was no reason to doubt it.

And yet, why did this uneasy feeling keep flaring up, again and again?

As time dragged on, it wasn’t the hands of the clock that wore down—it was Diana’s heart.

“How much longer are you planning to sleep?”

<Just be patient.>

“You said that two hours ago.”

The Empress and Kain had fled the moment the physician finished his diagnosis, leaving Diana alone to watch over him.

For what felt like an eternity, the only companion at her side was the spirit.

“…Can’t you heal him?”

She couldn’t help but wonder—what if the imperial physician was in league with the Empress?

What if they had deliberately misdiagnosed him, leaving him in a worsening condition?

Her mind spiraled with doubt, each suspicion leading to an even more dire conclusion.

In the end, unable to bear the anxiety any longer, Diana turned to the spirit for help.

But the response she received was a chiding one.

<Do you even understand what you’re asking?>

“…What do you mean?”

<As Lady Aria mentioned before, my abilities have a limited number of uses.>

Diana finally realized what that meant.

The spirit’s “abilities” weren’t something she could call upon freely. Each use carried a cost.

She wanted to ask just how many uses it had left, but—just as Cardel had warned her before—she found that her voice refused to work when she tried to speak about their contract.

<And yet, you want to waste one of those precious chances on this man?>

“……”

<He wouldn’t even know. If you’re hoping to win his favor with this, you should know better.>

She had read before that spirits were connected to their contractor’s heart.

It seemed the words were true—her emotions had been laid completely bare.

<But tell me, Diana Valencia—why him? What makes him worth using such a valuable chance?>

The spirit was right.

Even if she used its power to save Ersivan, she had no intention of telling him about it.

He would never know.

So why had she even asked?

Did she truly value his life so much that she was willing to rely on another’s power just to keep him alive?

“…Why?”

She knew the answer.

She knew exactly why she felt this way.

“Why do I—”

But Diana refused to acknowledge the truth.

No sinner would willingly confess their crime.

Biting down on her lip, she muttered a feeble excuse.

It wasn’t clear whether she was trying to convince the spirit or herself.

“I didn’t know about your abilities, so I was just asking.”

<Oh, I’m sure.>

“…I’m going out for a bit. Keep an eye on him.”

With that, Diana slowly rose from her seat.

She cast one last glance at Ersivan’s pallid face before leaving the room as if fleeing from her own thoughts.

The moment she stepped into the corridor, she spotted the Empress standing there, completely still.

The Empress, too, seemed to notice her, turning fully toward her before approaching at an unhurried pace.

“I greet Your Majesty.”

“How is the Duke’s condition, Lady Valencia?”

Her tone was casual—too casual.

How infuriating.

She had left the room the moment she was assured he would survive, and now she had the nerve to feign concern?

Was she asking just to mock her?

Diana was tempted to tell her to go in and see for herself.

But she held her tongue.

She knew the Empress wouldn’t want to enter any more than she wanted her to.

Diana glanced around.

The corridor was eerily empty, not a single soul passing through.

“Now is my chance.”

Ever since she had realized the tea was poisoned, there had been something she wanted to ask.

“There is something I wish to ask.”

“Go ahead, madam.”

“Why did you try to kill me?”

The Empress blinked slowly.

Her face remained impassive, as always, but Diana could tell—she hadn’t expected that question.

For once, she was genuinely caught off guard.

“That is a rather dangerous accusation. Are you claiming I was the one who poisoned the tea? But surely you witnessed the culprit being punished yourself, Duchess.”

After the incident, the Empress had not only executed the maid who brewed the tea but also dismissed every single attendant who had come into contact with her that day.

And now, despite having framed a scapegoat, she dared to feign innocence?

Diana had expected this much.

However, if the Empress truly loathed Ersivan to the core, she would have had no qualms about confessing—just to ensure he heard of it.

That meant…

The truth was something even she couldn’t afford to reveal.

“Your Majesty, I beg you to speak the truth so that you do not lose trust. Please, I implore you—do not taint today’s events with lies.”

Her throat burned, growing drier with each word. It was a reaction to her emotions, yet she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why she felt this way.

Was it because Ersivan’s interference had prevented her from playing her most important card? Because his actions had made her future even more uncertain?

Diana needed to dive deeper—deeper into the abyss of her own mind, into the murky depths of her heart where something unknown had taken root without her realizing it.

“…Why?”

“Are you asking why I tried to kill you?”

The Empress, her blue eyes sharp and unwavering, spoke bluntly—as if she already knew the answer.

It was proof that she was certain of Diana’s suspicions.

She wasn’t foolish enough to leave room for anyone to report her crimes, yet now she openly admitted them, as if she found the whole situation amusing.

Her expression was that of someone thoroughly entertained.

“Your Majesty, was my family not your ally? Did you not once stand in solidarity with my father? I grew up witnessing that loyalty, and because of it, I have always respected you. So then… why?”

Diana spoke as though she were truly Lillian, as if she had become the woman herself.

She could have fallen to her knees, playing the part of the tragic heroine, weeping in despair.

But there was no need.

The red-rimmed eyes glaring up at the Empress, the trembling voice—those alone were enough.

Too much theatrics would only make the Empress suspicious.

“Oh, Lili… I never intended to kill you.”

The Empress, who stood a head and a half taller than Diana, reached out and lifted her chin.

Her fingers trembled faintly against Diana’s jaw.

The pressure should have been painful, should have made her neck ache, yet Diana didn’t flinch. She endured it, unyielding.

The Empress let out a soft hum.

That stubbornness—so reminiscent of someone she despised.

Even with a completely different face, she couldn’t help but think of the foster son she had failed to destroy.

“I only meant to scare you. It was never out of hatred. I swear it upon my name.”

Gone was the formal speech—the Empress now spoke as if she were offering motherly affection.

Her touch against Diana’s chin was slow, delicate, almost ticklish.

“My son has always been so terribly naïve. I merely meant to teach him a lesson—to carve the truth into his bones.”

She recalled the dinner from earlier that evening, before Diana had arrived.

Back when it had only been the three of them, with the Emperor absent.

“How foolish of you to summon me here. Neither you nor my dear brother have any desire to see me, so why waste our time?”

Ersivan had grumbled, as he always did.

The Empress, uninterested in engaging with his complaints, had continued eating in silence.

But then, he had made the mistake of pushing further.

“Do not call for my wife again.”

“…”

“Watching her bow and scrape before you… it may truly drive me to kill you, Mother. And I know you wish to cling to that wretched life of yours for as long as possible.”

It felt like only yesterday that he had fled the palace in trembling fear.

And now, just because he had established a single noble house, he had the audacity to defy her.

If he had truly cherished that woman, he should never have exposed her to the Empress.

He should have hidden her—kept her far beyond the reach of her gaze.

But no. He hadn’t.

And for that, she wanted to crush him.

She wanted him to watch as the thing he treasured was twisted, broken beyond recognition, until despair consumed him whole.

“But you, Lili… You cannot do the same.”

The Empress’s thoughts drifted further—back to a time eighteen years past.

Back when she had been known as Lady Charliana.

She had ensnared the Emperor easily.

Though indifferent to his political bride, he had openly kept her as his lover.

Her goal had never been his heart, however.

She wanted the crown.

Even after winning over the notoriously cold-hearted Emperor, her lowly family background had continued to drag her down.

She needed support—an ally to solidify her position.

Not an uptight house obsessed with rigid traditions, nor one with a tarnished reputation that would drag her down.

She needed a noble family—one prestigious enough to elevate her, yet foolish enough to be easily manipulated.

That was when she set her sights on House Mernard.

A family that pretended to be virtuous, yet was transparent in its ambitions.

A house that seemed eerily similar to her own.

On the day the Countess of Mernard went into labor, Charliana had sent a royal midwife.

She had done so under the guise of a favor, but—

“Oh my! You’re carrying twins, madam!”

“…Lady Charliana.”

“Come now, Lady Mernard. It is a joyous occasion—why such a grave expression?”

That day, fate delivered the perfect weakness into her hands.

“Do not worry. I swear upon His Majesty’s name—I will take this secret to my grave.”

“…”

“Now, then… What will the Count and Countess offer me in return?”

With the Mernard family’s loyalty secured, there was nothing left for her to fear.

The Emperor’s advisors, who had once scorned her humble origins, could no longer complain.

With every obstacle removed, Charliana had ascended to the throne.

In other words—without House Mernard, she never would have become Empress.

Ah, if only her beloved son knew that pathetic truth.

“And yet you dare harbor feelings for the enemy of your family?”

“…”

“Do you truly not understand what your family has sacrificed for you?”

She let out a mirthless chuckle.

“Your very existence was another’s downfall. You have fed on the ruin of others just to survive—so why would you be foolish enough to throw it all away?”

The Empress thought of the discarded twin.

A child cast aside for the sake of noble ambition.

She had never once spared a thought for that nameless infant, never wondered whether they had lived or died.

But now, for the first time, she used that long-forgotten child as a weapon.

A tool to shatter Lillian’s composure.

Because surely—Lillian would never have imagined that unwanted twin was alive.

Breathing, walking, standing right before her.

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