I Became the Heroine’s Stand-in - Chapter 86

“Good evening.”

Everyone was already gathered in the dining room, except for Diana. Though she wasn’t late enough to be considered tardy, it was still embarrassing to have arrived after Ersivan, who was a guest.

The Count, who placed great importance on etiquette, kept clearing his throat pointedly. Diana quickly took her place beside Ersivan, glancing cautiously at the three pairs of eyes on her.

At last, the Count rang the small bell on the table.

Cling, cling.

As the signal for the meal rang out, the attendants waiting behind stepped forward and began setting utensils and serviettes before each person.

Moments later, the door opened and the chef entered, pushing a serving cart. The rich aroma wafted through the air, whetting their appetites.

They began with the appetizer—small portions of soup and bread. The cream soup, made with tomato and basil, was more than enough to warm a hungry stomach.

Although it was clear they had prepared more elaborately than usual, Diana had no time to savor the meal. She was certain the food was delicious, but her tongue couldn’t register any flavor.

The tension of being in such an uncomfortable setting had numbed her senses, leaving the meal far from pleasant.

Perhaps Ersivan felt the same, as his manner of eating seemed even more restrained than usual.

Taking small, almost symbolic bites, he soon set his fork down and dabbed his lips with a napkin.

Once everyone’s utensils were neatly placed on the table, the chef returned, replaced the dishes and silverware, and served the main course.

“We’ll dine in private from here on,” the Count said.

“Yes, please ring when you require dessert. I hope you all enjoy your evening.”

Under the pretense of wanting personal time, the Count dismissed the chef and attendants.

One by one, they left, and finally the dining room door closed. The now-quiet space was filled only with the faint clinking of cutlery.

Unwillingly but out of obligation, Diana took a bite of steak. When the richness became too much, she offset it with a bit of the lightly charred garnish.

“Ah, that reminds me—I have something to discuss with you, my lord.”

Just as her half-finished plate was beginning to feel heavy in her stomach, the Count, after observing the mood, finally raised his voice.

It seemed he was about to bring up the same matter he had mentioned in Diana’s room earlier—to Ersivan.

Diana, tense, gripped the hem of her dress tightly.

“…So, you’re saying I’m responsible for everything, then.”

“You are the one in charge, are you not? It’s truly unfortunate that things have come to this, but I hope you’ll be willing to bear the loss.”

Ersivan, barely restraining his frustration, wanted nothing more than to grab the Count by the collar.

Should he take the blame for his enemy’s failure, or should he disgrace the woman he loves?

Sadly, he would end up choosing the former.

Diana’s hesitation about the proposal wasn’t just because she didn’t want Ersivan entangled with her enemy.

The timeline didn’t quite align, but in the original story, the Count had also proposed a business venture to Ersivan.

Lillian, unaware of the circumstances, had begged him to assist, and unable to refuse his lover’s plea, he agreed, not foreseeing the tragedy that would follow.

However, even then, Ersivan had found the thought of facing his enemy unbearable, so they settled on him only investing in the business.

The Duke of Valencia would take full responsibility for the financial side, leaving the Count free to pursue a massive project with little risk.

But perhaps he dreamed too big for his capabilities. The business failed spectacularly, and the nobles he had persuaded to invest turned on him.

Still, Lillian’s love for her father outweighed her disdain, and she lived in constant fear that something would happen to the Count.

Not wanting to see his lover suffer, Ersivan took all the losses upon himself.

Of course, even if I were to fail, I wouldn’t let him take responsibility for it.

Regardless, now that Diana was by his side, there was no way Ersivan would willingly take on such a loss.

But even so, it would be best to stop this before it even started. There was no way Ersivan would want to associate with the Count.

“I just need to handle this well.”

Diana knew her father’s nature—he was excessively persistent. If she left even a sliver of hope, he would cling to it tenaciously.

She didn’t want Ersivan to keep encountering her enemy.

Therefore, this had to be dealt with completely before the dinner ended.

The Count met her eyes and gave a slight nod—a signal asking if she was ready to play along.

Just as he once did—this time, it’s my turn.

Diana nodded in return, and the Count smiled, pleased as ever.

“Please speak freely.”

Ersivan set down his utensils and looked at the Count calmly.

“Our family is considering starting a business venture.”

“A business, you say?”

“Yes. There’s no one else I would consider as a partner but the Duke of Valencia. I thought, perhaps, we could collaborate.”

Our family. Together.

The Count had a bad habit of using such familiar phrases far too freely.

“You seem to have a specific idea in mind,” Ersivan replied.

“The preparations are nearly finished. Just a few formalities remain. Everyone who’s heard about it says it’s brilliant—praises all around, ha ha.”

Ersivan responded with a disinterested murmur and lifted his glass. He slowly tilted it, savoring the wine, deliberately delaying his reply.

The Count still hadn’t sensed anything amiss.

With obedient supporters at his back, the Count had assumed failure was impossible. Feeling emboldened, he added another remark.

“It’s not really my place to say, but I’m confident this will be a great success. I’ve already gathered investors, so all that’s left is to begin.”

Usually, when he spoke with such confidence, people would fall for it. Besides, with investors already lined up, Ersivan wouldn’t have to trouble himself—just a signature and it’d be done.

“Seeing as you’ve already secured investors, why involve me at all? I believe the path you’ve paved is more than sufficient for you to walk alone, Count.”

Yet Ersivan wouldn’t budge.

Though his words sounded like concern for the Count, they were merely a polite form of rejection.

Flustered, the Count turned toward Diana, silently urging her to do something—anything. If she encouraged him, maybe Ersivan would reconsider!

But instead, his trusted daughter looked away, her expression unreadable.

A wave of anxiety swept over him, so intense it felt like his throat was drying out. The Count squirmed in his seat, unable to remain still.

“My lord, I ask you to understand my deeper intentions.”

The Count carefully broached the topic again, trying to spark Ersivan’s curiosity.

He hadn’t wanted to grovel like this—but circumstances left him no choice.

As he had told Ersivan earlier, he had already gathered investors. Believing there was no need for further delay, the Count had pushed ahead with the business preparations.

The problem was, those investors had only joined because of the name “Valencia.”

If Ersivan, the key figure, didn’t participate, they would all withdraw—no question.

Where would he find the funds to replace the capital already used? How could he endure the disgrace of failing to persuade his own son-in-law, leading to the collapse of the entire venture?

This was a matter of honor for the Mernard family. He had to succeed.

“Deeper intentions, you say? What do you mean by that?”
Ersivan’s expression subtly shifted—he had taken the bait, just as the Count had hoped.

If he failed to win Ersivan over now, the opportunity might never come again.

Nervously, the Count resolved to play his final card.

“Nothing strengthens bonds like working together. It fosters shared responsibility, and financial ties naturally bring people closer.”

He had heard plenty about Ersivan and Diana’s relationship. His associates often praised them as a loving couple, saying they were well-matched.

With such affection between them, framing this as a gesture of family unity should prevent Ersivan from refusing outright.

“With me, Count?” Ersivan asked calmly.

“Yes! I’ve heard you and my daughter are quite close. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you grew closer to her father as well? Ha ha!”

The Count’s booming laughter echoed through the dining room, and he even winked jovially for good measure.

Watching in silence, Diana felt a chill run down her spine at how shameless he was.

Then came shame—so intense she couldn’t lift her head.

She bit her lip in silence, hoping time would pass quickly—but as the moment dragged on, guilt crept in.

The man who had ruined her childhood and destroyed Ersivan’s life was now shamelessly pretending to want to befriend his victim.

For a moment, Diana considered upending everything.

She imagined pouring her wine over her father’s face, hurling her food at his expensive suit.

Let the consequences come—she could handle a scandal, gossip, a front-page headline.

But what she feared wasn’t the immediate aftermath.

If she acted out, it would reveal that she knew too much—the dark truths of this world.

Only Ersivan and the Count couple knew about Ersivan’s tragic childhood. If Diana reacted emotionally now, it would expose that she knew every detail.

No. It wasn’t the right time. Not yet.

She had to wait—until she could strike without consequence, until she could completely humiliate the Count with no blowback.

And so, Diana endured.

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