I Stole The Duke - Chapter 22

“Please accept this token of goodwill from Zypen.”

As soon as the greeting ended, the attendants following the Crown Prince stepped forward and opened a large chest. Inside were celadon vessels rimmed with gold—nearly impossible to obtain within the Empire—and oud, a fragrant resin more valuable than gold itself.

“We have received the king’s sentiment with gratitude.”

“Thank you for your generosity.”

“Once again, may the blessing of the Sea God be with you.”

Fortunately, the Crown Prince of Zypen offered no further remarks and withdrew gracefully.

“Haa…”

Only once he was gone did Eliana feel the tension leave her shoulders. She exhaled softly.

For some reason, the heirs of all three surrounding kingdoms had gathered here. The wedding reception had turned into a full-blown diplomatic arena.

“Tired?”

“Ah… I’m alright.”

At Michalis’s concerned tone, Eliana quickly straightened her posture.

Now, a group of people with distinctly Eastern features approached. It was the delegation from the Eastern Empire—rarely seen except at major imperial events.

“His Majesty wishes to express that the continued strength of House Ascher is a blessing to the continent and a symbol of peace. He prays for your continued harmony.”

The head of the Eastern delegation conveyed his emperor’s message in fluent Imperial and opened the chest before them. Inside were a pair of swans carved from flawless white jade and bolts of silk in a dazzling array of colors.

“We are honored to receive the Eastern Emperor’s goodwill.”

“Once again, we offer our wishes for House Ascher’s peace and prosperity.”

Even after the Eastern envoys departed, the central nobles hesitated to approach the ducal couple.

“……”

In the thirty-one years of peace, the once-legendary war hero’s house had faded from common memory. But now that they were witnessing it again, the sheer influence of House Ascher far exceeded vague recollections.

Neighboring countries had long understood the importance of naval power. It was only the central nobility who had forgotten.

Now, guests recalled the fate of Goldmann and the disgrace of Giregi, shaking their heads with regret. Had we only seen this wedding earlier… They would never have dared to make enemies of House Ascher so foolishly. They had paid dearly for their ignorance.

Ugh, I should have built up more stamina…

After receiving greetings from a few more high-ranking nobles, Eliana was near her limit.

Ah, that person…

Scanning the room with weary eyes, Eliana suddenly widened them.

A head of soft pink hair—just as rare as silver—stood out. It was the exact shade belonging to Freya Espensen, the female lead of the original story.

The Second Prince of Kantur was nowhere to be seen, and the Crown Prince was now speaking with the pink-haired man.

Dream.

Eliana quickly checked Michalis’s location. He was at a modest distance, still engaged in conversation with another guest. It was a perfect opportunity to use the system.

[System online. Listening. Please select a function.]

Search that man.

She focused her gaze on the man speaking with the Crown Prince.

[Initiating image scan.]
[Search complete.]

Image Scan Results

Name: Victor Espensen
Age: 21
Occupation: Knight
Nationality: Empire of Wespera
Affiliation: Imperial Guard
Height/Weight: 179cm / 78kg
Notes: None

As expected…

The man was indeed one of Freya Espensen’s three older brothers.

After confirming the system’s information, a wave of unease gripped Eliana. She glanced around the hall urgently. But she didn’t see anyone else with the same hair color.

“……”

That was when she felt it—a sharp, piercing stare.

Eliana’s pale face lifted slowly. The moment their eyes met, a chill swept down her spine.

A woman with light pink hair was glaring at her from the second-floor balcony.

There was no need to search. Eliana knew exactly who it was.

Why is she here already…?

According to the original storyline, Freya and Michalis were supposed to meet for the first time at the investiture ceremony in Wespera—two weeks from now.

There was no telling what her intentions were in attending as a guest.

“Freya Espensen.”

Their eyes locked from across the distance, the air between them growing icy.

“Well, well… I’ve made eye contact with someone who was supposed to be dead.”

Freya held Eliana’s gaze for several long seconds before curling her lips into a smile.

“Eliana.”

Startled by a voice calling her name from nearby, Eliana flinched and turned her head.

“…Brother?”

Eliana couldn’t possibly fail to recognize him.
He was the only brother from her memories—someone unforgettable.

“Haha, congratulations on your marriage, little sister.”

A man with the same silver hair as Eliana offered her an awkward smile.

“You’re here.”

“Of course. You’re my one and only sister—how could I not come to your wedding?”

Originally, he had no intention of traveling all the way to the South, especially for a marriage to the old Duke. But the desperate message from the Baron and his wife had brought Elbaut Acklera hurrying to the ceremony.

“Shall we dance for old times’ sake?”

“No, I’m tired.”

She could see right through his intentions. Eliana looked directly at Elbaut’s outstretched hand and shook her head.

Behind him, the Baron and his wife were glancing nervously in Michalis’s direction, clearly too intimidated to approach. And just like that, the exhaustion Eliana had been barely holding at bay came rushing in all at once.

“If you don’t want to dance, how about stepping out to the terrace for a bit?”

“Brother, I really don’t think we have anything to talk about.”

Still holding onto false hope, Eliana thought, sighing inwardly at how pathetic the barony’s desperation had become.

“If there was something you needed to say, you should’ve said it before I left for the South!”

Her pity was now boiling into anger.

Even when he’d thought his sister was being sold off to the aging Duke, all Elbaut cared about was whether she would bring home wealth. Never once had he tried to stop the marriage.

“Just a moment, that’s all I ask.”

Elbaut grabbed her wrist just as she began to turn away, her face pale with fatigue.

“Brother, I’m tired. Please, just stop.”

“Let go of her.”

Both Eliana’s weary voice and Michalis’s sharp tone rang out at once.

Without warning, Michalis had approached. He now stood right beside them, his cold gaze fixed on Elbaut like a blade.

“Haha… A pleasure to meet you, Duke Ascher. I… I’m Eliana’s brother, Elbaut Acklera.”

Under Michalis’s piercing stare, Elbaut’s confidence visibly crumbled. He quickly released Eliana’s wrist and began babbling nervously.

“Son of Baron Acklera. Then enjoy the reception while you’re here.”

Michalis’s reply was curt. He had no intention of entertaining any further.

“You look exhausted.”

All he could see was Eliana, who now appeared completely drained.
That tiny frame of hers had been running on fumes since dawn. It was a miracle she hadn’t collapsed already.

“Yes, a little…”

“The key guests have already been greeted. I’ll handle the rest on my own—please go and get some rest.”

Michalis raised his hand and gave a signal to the vice-captain standing guard at the edge of the banquet hall.

“You summoned me, Your Grace?”

Alejandro approached promptly and bowed his head with quiet respect.

“Escort the Duchess to the main residence.”

At some point, Michalis’s form of address had shifted from Lady to Duchess—without hesitation.

“Yes, understood.”

“Duke…”

Eliana paused, resting her hand lightly on Alejandro’s offered arm, then turned back to Michalis.

She couldn’t afford to push herself past her limits. She didn’t want to collapse in the middle of the hall. It would only be disruptive and shameful.

“If there’s something you want to say—”

“Come quickly.”

Eliana cut in, her voice soft but insistent.

She didn’t want to leave Michalis alone in a room that still held the original story’s heroine.
For now, the only thing she could do was ensure the reception wrapped up quickly—before Freya had a chance to corner him.

“Quickly… you say?”

“Promise.”

“…I will.”

Eliana told me to come quickly…

Michalis stood there in stunned silence, watching her retreating figure.

There was only one thing left after the reception, wasn’t there?

She means she wants to consummate the marriage quickly?

His ears flushed red, and a strange heat crept up the back of his neck.

How am I supposed to deal with her…?

While her new husband was left flustered and bewildered, Eliana was deep in thought, soaking in a bath filled with petals.

How was she supposed to handle Freya, who had already lived five lives?

After enduring four beheadings, Freya had been broken and hardened. There was nothing left that could frighten her.
Despite looking like an eighteen-year-old girl, her accumulated lifetimes made her a seasoned and fearless tactician.

I can’t kill her.

That was the biggest problem—Freya had to survive.

If this world truly revolved around her, then killing her would only reset everything—rewinding time back to the past.
Even if she died at the Emperor’s hand, the result would be the same.

It was maddening.

Even as three maids massaged her tired muscles and gently washed her hair, Eliana couldn’t come up with a clear plan.
Not even when she changed into her nightgown—a barely-there slip—and was guided to the bridal chamber.

“This is the room the Duchess will use from now on.”

“……”

Eliana gave a silent nod as the maids finished and retreated with small, hurried steps.

Her entire body felt heavy from the full-body massage, and the mental fatigue of dealing with so many people all day had left her thoroughly worn out.

The room—meant for the Duchess—was fully furnished: a grand bed, a sofa, a vanity, a wardrobe. Everything she might need for daily life. All the furniture seemed newly purchased, and the faint scent of fresh wood lingered in the air.

Dragging her tired body to the sofa, Eliana sank into it and leaned against the armrest. She poured herself a glass of sangria—the fruit-and-wine cocktail that had been prepared on the table.

The cold drink was packed with ice, and the fog in her head began to clear with the first sip.

It’s good.

The problem was that sangria, while tasting like sweet juice, still contained alcohol.

I can’t let Freya meet him. So why hasn’t he come yet?

She poured herself another glass while waiting for Michalis… but somewhere between one sip and the next, Eliana drifted off to sleep, curled against the armrest.

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