I Became the Heroine’s Stand-in - Chapter 67

Ersivan stared at her in a daze.

“This isn’t right.”

She looked so fragile, as if she might crumble at any moment.

And all he could do was stand there, helplessly watching.

Then, realization struck.

“I was wrong.”

“I was so, so wrong.”

Ersivan Valencia had never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve.

Whether it was his past, his emotions, or anything else—he had always believed it was better to keep things buried.

Because in most cases, a well-crafted illusion was preferable to a harsh reality.

He had never once questioned the path he had walked.

But now, for the first time in his life—he realized he had been mistaken.

Or rather, he had taught someone else to make the same mistake.

“…You asked why I saved you.”

He placed a hand on Diana’s shoulder.

Her thin arms, limp and trembling, offered no resistance.

“It was because, more than I realized… I care for you.”

His voice was quiet, but firm.

“Dian, the thought of losing you filled me with fear. And despair.”

Diana remained silent, letting his words sink in.

“If you ask me why I care…”

A soft, almost self-deprecating smile crossed his lips.

“I suppose it’s because I watched you for so long that I became attached without realizing it.”

There was no reason his words should have sounded so genuine.

Yet they did.

“At first, it was because you could be strong, yet vulnerable.”

“…”

“Then, it was because every time I saw you with hair just like mine, something in my chest stirred.”

“…”

“And… because, like me, you love lavender.”

The warmth of his hand slipped away, only to find its place at her waist.

When Diana turned her head, startled by the sudden weight against her shoulder—

She saw his head resting there.

“That’s why I couldn’t let you go.”

His voice, whispering near her ear, was still unsteady.

It was beautiful, yet fragile.

Like an unpolished gemstone, caught between raw imperfection and brilliance.

His expression was almost tragic, like someone on the verge of breaking into tears.

It was selfish of her.

But seeing him so vulnerable made her chest tighten in ways she couldn’t explain.

Like embers smoldering beneath wet ashes—just when she thought they had been extinguished, a flicker of heat remained.

And soon, those dying embers ignited into flames once more.

But still, she said nothing.

Because hope was something that only shone when kept hidden.

And when she met his gaze, she knew she had made the right choice.

Human emotions were like paint on a palette.

Sometimes, an artist would forget to close the lid, letting the colors mix and harden into an unrecognizable mess.

Ersivan’s emotions were like that—blended and muddied into something incomprehensible.

But within that muddied mixture, Diana recognized one color.

“So, it wasn’t a confession after all.”

It was kinship.

The very same feeling she had once harbored toward him.

She felt the damp warmth of his shoulder against hers.

The face that had looked ready to cry… had now truly begun to do so.

She didn’t know why.

But it only felt natural that she, too, would feel the sting behind her eyes.

And perhaps—just for a moment—she even smiled.

Because in the end, what did it matter if it was only kinship?

Time passed in quiet stillness.

But as the tension ebbed away, the weight in her legs suddenly gave out.

Thud.

Her knees hit the floor, cushioned only by the folds of her dress.

The impact was dull, but real.

Pain had a way of dragging people back to reality.

Her cheeks felt stiff with dried tears.

And the moment she became aware of herself again—shame flooded in.

She couldn’t bring herself to lift her head.

“…Shall we return to our room?”

She hesitated, but eventually took his outstretched hand and allowed him to help her up.

Even with her feet firmly on the ground, it still felt like she was floating.

“…Wouldn’t it be more peaceful for you to stay here instead?”

“No. I want to return to our room.”

She had been trying to create some distance between them.

But he had refused her so easily.

And now, there was no escape.

A shadow loomed closer beside her.

A large hand brushed against her waist as he spoke.

“May I hold you?”

“…What?”

Her voice shot up in surprise.

It wasn’t a confirmation—it was pure disbelief.

And yet, Ersivan took it as an answer.

Without waiting for further permission, he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Her feet left the ground.

To keep her balance, she had no choice but to hold on to him.

Diana instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, albeit reluctantly. But when she glanced up in disbelief, she was met with Ersivan’s sly grin as he casually shrugged.

“You seemed to be struggling.”

“I wasn’t that unsteady,” she protested. “And I certainly don’t need to be carried by a patient.”

Ersivan turned his head slightly, his gaze drifting downward.

Beneath the hem of her dress, her delicate ankles trembled like fallen leaves caught in the wind.

He nearly scoffed.

She had the audacity to say such things while looking like that?

Diana, feeling a tinge of embarrassment, averted her gaze and mumbled, “If it’s truly necessary, I could just ask one of the knights to—”

Before she could finish, Ersivan effortlessly adjusted his grip, securing her in his arms once more.

Her body, momentarily lifted into the air, settled securely against the warmth of his chest.

“If I entrusted you to them, they might start getting ideas beyond their station.”

“…”

“The mere thought of someone else laying a hand on you is… unacceptable.”

And yet, Diana thought bitterly, you have no qualms about touching me as you please.

She opened her mouth, ready to call out his hypocrisy, but in the end, the words never came.

Instead, she let out a quiet sigh and simply leaned against him, resting her head against his chest.

His warmth seeped through the fabric of his clothes, brushing against her cheek.

The sensation was fleeting, however, as a sudden draft swept in from the open doors.

The contrast between his warmth and the cold air made her toes curl involuntarily.

The people waiting in the hallway turned to stare.

Among them was Cardel, who looked utterly horrified.

His face darkened as if he had witnessed something utterly repulsive—like he had just swallowed poison.

They continued down the corridor, past the lingering stares.

Up the staircase.

Across the second-floor hallway.

Until, finally, they reached their room.

Ersivan carefully set her down on the sofa, then wordlessly draped a blanket over her shoulders.

As if that wasn’t enough, he even poured her a cup of tea.

At this point, it was hard to tell who the real patient was.

“Drink,” he instructed.

“…Ah. Thank you,” she murmured.

The soft scent of jasmine filled the air, bringing a strange sense of peace.

As Diana wrapped her hands around the warm cup, she felt her body relax.

But she quickly reminded herself—this was no time for complacency.

She set the teacup down on the table and looked around.

Ersivan, who had been at her side only moments ago, was now seated at his desk, rummaging through something.

When he returned, he held a violet-colored crystal orb.

It gleamed with the same deep hue as her eyes.

After placing it in the center of the table, he explained,

“This will record everything. Date, participants, conversation—everything will be preserved exactly as it happens.”

Diana said nothing, merely watching him.

Her gaze spoke for her: And why exactly do we need this now?

“I believe it’s time we reinforce our contract.”

“…Ah.”

“We could do it the traditional way—ink on paper—but I thought this would be more practical. And more thorough.”

This time, her expression seemed to ask, Why now?

Ersivan smiled slightly, as if amused by her unspoken question.

“If we don’t do this, I suspect you’ll continue to doubt me.”

He had been observing her for quite some time now.

And if there was one thing he had come to understand, it was that Diana disliked verbal agreements.

It wasn’t just due to a general lack of trust—though she certainly had that.

It was something deeper.

She believed she was not worthy of being trusted.

That was why, whenever someone showed kindness or made promises to her, her first instinct was to question their motives.

“There’s no reason for them to do this for me.”

That was what she told herself.

If he wanted to reassure her, he needed to give her something tangible.

Something she could see and hold.

That way, when the time came, she wouldn’t hesitate.

She wouldn’t second-guess his intentions.

Because it would already be laid out clearly in writing—or in this case, in recorded form.

It was exhausting, in a way.

But considering the life she had lived, it was hardly surprising.

Ersivan placed his hand on the crystal orb.

A faint glow pulsed from within.

The signal that the recording had begun.

“Today is the thirteenth day of the ninth month. The participants are Ersivan Valencia and Diana Valencia. Do you consent to this recording, my lady?”

Diana placed her hand over the orb and answered,

“Diana Valencia, I consent.”

Another flicker of light confirmed her agreement.

Ersivan then gestured for her to relax.

“This conversation may take a while. Make yourself comfortable.”

Diana adjusted her posture, leaning back against the sofa.

Only when she had settled did he continue.

“If there’s anything you’d like to discuss, feel free to speak freely.”

It was an invitation.

An opening for the conversation to begin.

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