I Became the Heroine’s Stand-in - Chapter 97

The carriage fell into a heavy, unnatural silence, as if nothing had happened. Ersivan, watching over Diana, furrowed his brow.

It has already been twice.

This was the second time he had looked this wretched—miserable and anxious. Twice already.

“She seemed fine the whole time, but she collapsed the moment we stepped inside. Her complexion was poor, but I thought it was just simple motion sickness.”

“She will be fine. There seem to be no major abnormalities, so please take the young lady up to her room.”

Even back then, it had happened after a visit to the Count’s estate.

Twice now, they have tried to harm you.

For some reason, he hadn’t received a proper explanation, but there were ways to confirm the truth without hearing it directly from her.

It was a night shortly before the wedding, after the monster subjugation had ended.

The sharp tapping of a bird’s beak against the window echoed repeatedly. At the familiar noise, Ersivan’s eyes snapped open. Conscious of Diana sleeping beside him, he rose cautiously from the bed.

Moving with muffled footsteps, he approached the window and found a small parcel left by the bird.

It’s from Kardel.

He remembered the request he had made during the subjugation. With practiced ease, he unwrapped the parcel with one hand while drawing the curtains with the other.

By the time he turned back, Diana was visible in the deep shadows. The sheets and blankets where he had been lying were slightly disturbed. He gently pulled the covers back over her, tucking her in securely. He watched her as she slept, breathing softly, unaware of his presence.

“Lily.”

He whispered her name, but there was no movement.

“To what extent should I trust you?”

Despite the lack of response, he continued to speak.

“No, I suppose it would be strange to trust someone when I don’t even know who they truly are.”

Ersivan let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. Here he was, struggling to trust someone whose very identity was uncertain even to herself. If his past self had seen this, he would have clicked his tongue and called it pathetic.

Since the subjugation, his heart had leaned toward one side, but it was still too early to be certain—whether she was an adversary sent to ruin him or a savior sent to deliver him.

He left the room and headed to the study on the same floor. He didn’t particularly favor the room because it was small, like a makeshift office, but he didn’t want to cause a stir by moving around the manor in the middle of the night.

After lighting a candle to clear his vision, he inspected the items from the parcel: a letter and a recording orb.

[I found this in the trash heap at the Mernard estate.]

Inside the parcel was a bundle of lavender, blackened and discolored with dust. If it hadn’t been preserved with magic beforehand, it would have rotted and crumbled long ago.

[I’m not sure if the young lady actually ordered it to be thrown away. I thought you two were having the romance of the century.]

Kardel’s characteristic sprawling handwriting and snide remarks were incredibly irritating. He truly had a useless talent for making a person want to stop reading a letter before even finishing it.

Following that were lengthy greetings. After reading two lines, Ersivan crumpled the letter and tossed it into the corner of the table. With a touch of annoyance, he shook the bouquet. A round, yellow crystal orb rolled out onto the table.

“…It’s a miracle it isn’t broken.”

Just as Kardel said, the orb was in terrible condition. Fortunately, its design was durable enough to avoid being shattered.

Next, he followed the procedures mentioned in the letter. He placed the crystal orb in his palm and gave it a light squeeze. A prompt appeared to verify his fingerprint and iris; once recognized, the orb began to glow with a violet light.

<Playing video. Is there a specific time you wish to view?>

The voice sounded chillingly artificial, not human at all. He replied in a slightly grim tone.

“From the moment we arrived at the Mernard estate.”

As soon as the command was given, the image on the orb shifted. It showed the members of House Mernard welcoming Diana as she stepped off the carriage. The Count looked displeased with the bundle of lavender Diana was holding and gave her a slight rebuke.

“New things naturally feel special, don’t they? It’s not that I like it more than lilies; it’s more accurate to say I found something new in a new environment. I, Lillian Mernard, could never refuse lilies.”

“Indeed. My daughter, my Lily. You always whisper such lovely things.”

Perhaps because Diana handled it well, the Count’s stern expression immediately softened.

“Keep this safe for me.”

However, Count Mernard still seemed to dislike the lavender. He eventually snatched the bundle from her arms and handed it to a servant. Diana’s voice could be heard privately asking the servant to take care of it. It was around that moment that Ersivan’s indifferent expression began to change.

“I’ve been inconsiderate. You must be exhausted from the long journey! I’ve prepared all your favorite foods. Go unpack quickly and let us enjoy the banquet.”

The two figures faded into the distance, leaving only the idle chatter of servants behind. Watching other people’s daily business was a waste of time. Ersivan quickly skipped forward.

A maid, having apparently fulfilled Diana’s request, entered her room holding the bouquet.

“…My Lady?”

But the room felt strangely desolate. It was one thing for a room to be empty, but it shouldn’t have felt this chilling. Sensing something was wrong, the maid wandered through the room until she stopped abruptly in front of the wardrobe.

She heard a strange noise. With a trembling heart, the maid opened the wardrobe door and gasped in horror.

“…W-What is this!”

The mistress of the room lay collapsed inside the wardrobe in a ghastly state. As the maid prepared to scream, she heard the sound of the door being locked and turned around. It was Count Mernard.

“C-Count, the… the Young Lady is…”

“Who gave you permission to enter as you please?”

“M-My apologies. But the Young Lady, right now… a doctor…”

The maid, pointing at Diana, soon sensed the strangeness. She wanted to scream for a doctor, but the words wouldn’t leave her mouth. It was because of the Count’s gaze—he was looking at her and his own daughter with murderous eyes.

Why wasn’t the Count surprised? His daughter was in such a state, so how?

…Ah.

My God.

“I… I have committed a mortal sin.”

“Indeed. You must be punished for entering without permission.”

“I won’t… I won’t tell anyone about today!”

The maid was soon dragged away by the Count, her mouth held shut so she couldn’t even scream properly. The maid never appeared in the recording again.

The orb now showed only Diana, collapsed and leaning against the wardrobe. Her face looked like that of the dead. If Ersivan hadn’t known she was alive, even he would have mistaken her for a corpse.

A moment later, the Count returned to the room. He strode over to Diana and muttered with annoyance.

“Useless thing. To faint over something like this and force me to get blood on my hands…”

Clicking his tongue, he picked Diana up with a careless touch and threw her onto the bed as if she were a piece of luggage. Perhaps conscious of appearances later, he eventually pulled the blanket over her.

Deciding he had to clean the blood off her face, the Count scrubbed at her skin with a scowl before rushing out of the room.

“A doctor! Bring a doctor! My daughter’s condition is strange!”

He put on the mask of the doting father that the world knew so well.

“…Stop.”

Ersivan’s hands gripped the desk, trembling violently. Like a person whose bones were too frail to hold their own weight, he looked precarious. His voice wasn’t its usual self; the arrogant noble had vanished, replaced by a shadow of a man.

“She must have fallen down the stairs…”

“I said stop.”

The cursed recording orb wouldn’t listen to his command, as if it were broken. The images filling his vision continued to play. He saw Diana lying there as if dead, and the people surrounding her with feigned concern. Among them were the Count and Countess. The sight of them wiping away tears was so loathsome it made him nauseous.

“What shall we do, our daughter…”

“…Haha.”

A thick liquid dripped onto the desk. Unable to suppress his bile, Ersivan eventually vomited gastric juice. The retching continued. Because he had skipped his meals, only clear stomach acid poured out.

Fortunately, the desk wasn’t soiled by filth, but his insides burned. Clutching his chest with his other hand, Ersivan groaned, holding his solar plexus in pain.

It was so, so incredibly agonizing.

Even without seeing what came next, he could now grasp Diana’s true identity. That madman had truly committed such a deed. The foolish, dim-witted Count Mernard probably thought Ersivan would never find out.

He had to kill him.

He unconsciously fiddled with the sword at his waist. His raw instincts whispered for him to cut off the head of the Count shown in the orb.

But strangely, the impulse was checked by the recording itself. He saw Diana twitching every time she heard the Count’s voice. He discovered that even in her unconscious state, she feared her father.

It had to be her. The one to take full revenge on the Count, the one to hold the blade, had to be Diana Valencia. Because he knew that was what she ultimately wanted, Ersivan realized that for now, he could do nothing.

Support I Became the Heroine’s Stand-in