Chapter 120 - A Chance To Erase The Past (1)

Chapter 120 – A Chance To Erase The Past (1)

Some of the teachers that Sovieshu assigned to Rashta were once my own.

“No way!”

Countess Eliza’s face turned white in anger when she heard the news. Meanwhile, I was relaxing my feet in a bath of warm water.

“What happened?”

Countess Eliza worked on calming herself, while I asked another deputy for more information.

Rashta had no knowledge of court etiquette, so lessons were expected, but I didn’t expect her to have the same education as I did. Was she really trying to copy my educational background? Besides, how many teachers did she actually have?

“It’s not the schooling of a crown princess, but the same education you received when you were still under Duke Troby.”

Ah…that was it. It was when I was a princess that my education overlapped with Sovieshu’s. I had assumed that those who taught the crown prince and princess would also teach Rashta. But…

“She must have more than just one or two teachers.”

That was an obvious fact. The deputy nodded.

“She has lessons in court etiquette, dance, life philosophy, painting, piano, and so on. All from the basic teachers of young, social aristocrats.”

“I see.”

I signaled that the deputy could leave. He exited the room, and I leaned back comfortably into my chair.

“Why does that woman keep following you, Your Majesty?”

Count Eliza’s expression was of cold anger.

“First she copies your dress, then your education.”

I murmured in reply.

“She wants to be like me even more.”

“Do you think so?”

I nodded my head. It was not uncommon in society for one to mimic the educational career of a favorite role model. Educators also received a lift in status when their students would go on to rise in social prominence. The education system that nurtured Duchess Tuania and I had become famous that way.

If Rashta were an ordinary aristocrat, I might have considered it cute that she was following my footsteps. However, she was the woman that took my husband. A sense of unease and displeasure roiled in my gut. I felt the same as Countess Eliza towards this news…

I remembered the special banquet during the New Year’s celebration, when Rashta imitated my actions and voice as I greeted the envoys. Yesterday, I watched her write something down in her notebook.

‘How far will she go to mimic me?’

At this point, I could no longer feel the warmth from the water. I finished the foot bath and called for Sir Artina.

“How is the investigation coming along?”

As soon as he arrived, I asked about Viscount Roteschu and Rivetti.

“Nothing of importance yet.”

Sir Artina answered in a hushed voice, and I nodded to show that he was free to leave.

The thought of Rashta mimicking me hung over me like a cloud. I understood that I couldn’t expect any results from an investigation in only a day or two, and even if a huge secret was revealed, I hadn’t yet decided how to handle it.

“Well…Your Majesty.”

Instead of leaving, however, Sir Artina tentatively spoke up. I looked up at him in curiosity, and he approached me and lowered his voice again.

“There isn’t anything major to disclose, but there is one thing.”

“What is it?”

“There have been quite a high number of maids and servants who have been let go while working for Viscount Roteschu.”

As Sir Artina said, this wasn’t necessarily damning information. There were many nobles whose harsh and demanding nature led to a high turnover of household employees.

“I see.”

I nodded carefully and didn’t let myself be disappointed by the weakness of Sir Artina’s information. But his words didn’t end there.

“I approached those who were dismissed by Viscount Roteschu, and I heard a story from one of the maids.”

He lowered his voice even further.

“There is a secret area in the mansion that no one except the family members and head butler can enter.”

“Secret area…?”

Countess Eliza chimed into the conversation.

“But Your Majesty, Sir Artina. Many nobles have secret areas in their homes.”

I agreed with Countess Eliza. Nobles often kept secret rooms or areas to hide treasures or heirlooms. Sir Artina nodded in agreement as well.

“Yes, which is why I didn’t report immediately.”

“I see…”

“But there is one more strange thing.”

“What is it?”

“Viscount Roteschu has a young baby, but no one has ever seen its face. It’s only being raised in the secret area.”

So it wasn’t about treasure or heirlooms…but a person. The baby?

“How interesting.”

I heard that Viscount Roteschu had brought a baby when he moved into the mansion. Was it that same baby? I tried to deduce several things about it: perhaps the baby belonged to one of his unmarried children, or nephew, or some other distant relative’s. But hiding the baby? It stirred my curiosity.

What if the baby wasn’t just Viscount Roteschu’s secret?

“…”

‘Am I overthinking this?’

***

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It was four days after the debutante ball when Viscount Roteschu finally learned about the events that transpired there. Rivetti tried to remain silent about it, but eventually she couldn’t contain her outburst.

“I simply sitting still, and Rashta made me look like a fool! She found out what dress I wore and purposely wore the same thing! How did she do that?”

Not knowing that her dress was chosen by Rashta, Rivetti thought that Rashta had somehow schemed to obtain information on her. Viscount Roteschu’s face turned purple, and he didn’t tell his daughter that he blackmailed Rashta into giving her a dress.

The next day, Viscount Roteschu confronted Rashta.

“I told you to give my daughter a dress for the debutante ball, not to make her a laughingstock!”

In the face of Viscount Roteschu’s anger, Rashta simply sat on her chair as she studied her small notebook.

“Rashta!”

When he screamed at her, she set her notebook upside down and tilted her head.

“What?”

At the sight, Viscount Roteschu’s temper rose.

“You play a prank just because of a dress. You won’t come out of this amused.”

“Who gave you a free dress when you didn’t have one?”

“?!”

Viscount Roteschu recoiled in surprise when she spoke in a calm tone. It was strange that Rashta kept her expression as shielded as possible when he argued with her.

“That doesn’t suit you.”

“Doesn’t suit me?”

“You look like you’re putting on a mask.”

“Is that so?”

Rashta tilted her head to one side again, looking cold and distant. She stared at him as she raised her voice to rebuke him.

“Argue with your daughter, not Rashta. You should keep your child in line.”

“Who do you think is in charge here?”

Viscount Roteschu’s jaw dropped open in incredulity. It was as if it were Rashta, not Rivetti, that underwent a debutante. It had only been a few days since he last saw Rashta, so how could she have changed her way of speaking so much?

Rashta again looked at her notebook she had placed on her lap. She put the notebook back down, then set her face before continuing to speak.

“Rivetti has a loose tongue. Are you really going to allow her to be near the Empress? What if she says something she shouldn’t?”

“She’s not loose-tongued.”

“You’re too blinded to see any faults with your child.”

“You don’t want to even see your own child, let alone his faults.”

Rashta flinched at Viscount Roteschu’s accusation. The viscount was pleased to see Rashta’s mask finally slip a little. He’d rather deal with her like this, rather than the assertive way that made him nervous earlier.

However, Rashta’s shield came back around her like needles on a hedgehog.

“Don’t threaten Rashta.”

“You are not forced to do anything you’re afraid of.”

“…Viscount. Didn’t you say that if you fell, I would fall too?”

“?”

“It’s the same the other way around. If I fall, I won’t be alone.”

Viscount Roteschu gave a sharp bark of laughter. He still looked down on the former slave, and he did not take her threat seriously.

“And?”

Rashta stared at him coldly while she rested her chin against her hand. With her other hand she touched her belly, which was growing little by little each day.

“Even if the past is revealed and Rashta loses favor, Rashta still has a baby with His Majesty’s blood. The Emperor still accepts Rashta even if she is a slave, so he may even accept the past.”

“!”

“But not you. Remember.“