I Became the Heroine’s Stand-in - Chapter 95

“What did you say?”

“I asked if all your memories have returned!”

The Count, having completely forgotten his brief moment of terror, began to seethe with rage. Diana pulled her shoulder away from his grip. His arm, suddenly flailing in the air, fell back to his side.

“It, it was certain…”

“…”

“I was certain those memories were completely erased back then!”

Erased memories.

The bizarre statement made Diana flinch despite herself. The Count wasn’t supposed to know that she lacked her childhood memories. It was only natural he shouldn’t know, because Diana had never told him.

She had worried that if she admitted to losing her memories, he would view her as a defective product and find her even more disagreeable. Out of that cautious instinct, she had deliberately avoided mentioning anything the Count might dislike.

How on earth does Father know?

Anxiety knocked at her door. Her growing impatience only added to the confusion.

“I was certain those memories were completely erased back then!”

His words echoed loudly in her mind. As his voice repeated like an haunting echo, Diana’s mind began to sharpen.

“Therefore, I suspect your memories may have been deleted. When memories are artificially erased, even the childhood innocence residing in the heart is removed…”

Next, the words of the priest at the temple came back to her. Right. Even if Diana hadn’t told him, there was a way for him to know.

If Father is the one who erased my memories.

If he was the one who deleted them, or the one who commissioned the erasure, then everything made sense. Yet, a lingering question remained. Why was it specifically everything before the age of five?

Being human, Diana had often wondered about her life before five. Her most logical assumption had been that she was abandoned at birth and raised in an orphanage. But if she re-evaluated based on the Count’s words, she must have been with him until she was five. If she had been abandoned earlier, there would have been no need to erase memories up to that age.

But if I were at the Count’s estate, there is no way people wouldn’t have known about the existence of twins.

No matter how hard the couple tried to hide her, there were limits. She was a literal doppelgänger for Lillian; people would have surely been suspicious. Trying to piece together these fragmented clues was proving incredibly difficult.

No. No. I don’t have the luxury to think about that right now.

She eventually gave up on the train of thought. While important, it wasn’t the priority. There was something else she needed to focus on first.

I need to know why Father is so guarded about my memories returning.

It was his unusual reaction. There had to be a significant reason why he was so sensitive about her regaining those erased memories.

Is he afraid his list of crimes will grow if the erasure is discovered?

No, that wasn’t it. It was too early to be afraid of that when the crimes hadn’t even been judged yet.

Is there something that would cause a catastrophe if it were revealed to the world?

This was a more rational hypothesis.

A sin so great he wanted to hide it by erasing a child’s memory…

She had heard that mages capable of erasing memories were rare in the Empire, almost to the point of being easily identified. If so, the cost the client had to pay would have been astronomical. Most childhood memories naturally fade as one grows. To fear them so much that he was willing to pay a fortune meant the information must have been world-shaking. He wouldn’t have done that just to hide the existence of a twin.

As she pondered, a detail from the original novel suddenly illuminated her mind.

Mountain Hex?

The incident where the prince, the most likely successor to the throne, was kidnapped and imprisoned. The mastermind was the current Empress, and the accomplice who provided the location was the Mernard family. With an event of that scale, the Count’s anxiety made sense. If it were revealed, the family would be executed for treason.

I know about it now because I happened to discover the original story, but how did the young version of me know?

Had the contents of the original story actually been part of her lost memories? Perhaps they were returning as a side effect. But then, how did the Count discover that Diana knew?

There’s no way for him to know unless I spoke of it.

Even a child would realize that telling the Count would be a threat to their life. Surely her younger self hadn’t been so foolish as to run her mouth and cause the worst possible situation.

Nothing is coming together clearly.

Regardless, one thing was certain: she couldn’t expect a clear answer from the Count. If it was a problem she couldn’t solve right now, it was better to end this awkward confrontation first.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Father.”

“Don’t you dare lie!”

“Think whatever you like. I don’t plan on saying a word anyway, so feel free to misunderstand and be afraid on your own.”

“Diana Mernard!”

Yes, that was more like him. Calling her like that, instead of using that loathsome, sickeningly sweet nickname. Diana took a step toward her father as he shouted her name in agitation. Only then did he recall the strength she had displayed earlier and stumbled backward.

“You should correct yourself.”

“…”

“It’s been quite a while since my name changed to Valencia. How can you be so careless?”

The sound of footsteps began to echo from a distance. As they drew closer, Diana realized their destination was Lillian’s room. Judging by the sound, it wasn’t just one person. The more people there were, the more it worked in her favor. Whether it was the Countess, the butler, or a mere servant, it didn’t matter.

She stole a glance at the Count, who was unable to use one of his arms. Although the Count was the one who had initiated the violence with the slap, based on outward appearances, he would look like the victim. To make herself look like the victim, she had to show them a cruel scene. Between the result and the process, the process is always more shocking. People find it hard to imagine a situation until they see it with their own eyes.

“Ah, and wouldn’t it be Lillian Valencia?”

“What?”

“I am your lovely daughter. You should call me Lily, Father.”

She poked at his sensitive spots to provoke him.

“Surely you aren’t planning to deny my existence just because I acted out a little?”

The wrinkles on his face deepened. His brow arched high and his forehead furrowed. The reaction was coming. The footsteps finally stopped right outside the door. They were just a breath away.

“Oh, that’s right.”

“…”

“My apologies. Sister is no longer here, is she? To think I’d even forget the fact that I was acting as a dead person. I suppose I got too immersed in the performance…”

The moment she played her final card—Lillian—the Count raised his hand again, as if he could no longer contain himself. Perhaps this is why the ancestors said reason is vital and habits are terrifying. If the Count had been just a bit more rational, he would have heard the sound of the key turning in the lock. If he hadn’t been so used to slapping her, he would have been too afraid of her retaliation to raise his hand.

Ah, what an ugly display of arrogance.

“My Lord!”

“Honey!”

The door swung open at the exact moment the Count’s hand struck Diana’s cheek. Because he had put all his weight into the single hand, the force was doubled.

I think being hit with a fist would have hurt less than this.

She collapsed onto the floor instantly. Then, to complete the miserable picture, she began to tremble violently on the floor. She looked like a fish out of water, struggling to breathe. She didn’t cry out loud, but the way a few tears trickled down made her look utterly piteous.

People rushed into the room. The huffing Count, flustered by the cold stares of the witnesses, began to wave his hands in denial.

“No, this is… a misunderstanding!”

It really did hurt. Despite her best efforts, Diana couldn’t manage to push herself up. The Count was surely making a ridiculous expression, and it was a shame she couldn’t see it because her face was pressed against the floor.

Beyond her ear, which was practically rubbing against the wood, she heard rapid footsteps. It was a heavy, aggressive sound, like a stampeding bull.

“Wait, wait a moment!”

The Countess’s urgent cry followed, but the footsteps didn’t stop. The feet approached Diana’s face and came to a dead halt.

Just as she began to wonder about the sudden silence, she heard a dull thud, followed by the sound of the Count’s body collapsing. The Countess couldn’t have that kind of strength, and the butler wouldn’t dare face the consequences. Was it some gutsy apprentice knight?

“You.”

Then, a freezing voice reached her. Someone gasped. Following that, a series of groans that sounded like short screams erupted.

“How dare you.”

Thanks to those extra words, Diana identified the owner of the voice. It was Ersivan. Now that she looked, the shoes in front of her eyes were his as well. The ones she had personally picked out for him the day they went into the city together.

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