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Translator: uly
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Father's Illusion
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* * *
For a long while after Rubette left, Leonard Diorus sat in stunned silence.
"Live like you always have, without caring whether I live or die."
Her words, etched deeply into his bones, stirred a faint sense of self-reproach.
This man had been barely clinging to life since his wife's death eleven years ago, struggling just to take care of himself. Naturally, he had no energy left for his children.
His eldest son, Viego, eighteen years old and already managing the ducal house admirably as the acting head.
His second son, Victor, who had shown talent with the sword early on and joined the Imperial Knights three years ago—someone he saw only a couple of times a year at home.
And his youngest daughter, Rubettria, quiet and timid, the very image of his late wife.
None of them had ever complained to their father, and their faces, when he did see them, always looked serene. So he had assumed there were no problems...
"...I'm tired."
Leonard pressed a hand to his throbbing head, soaked in liquor, then paused as he reached for the heavy bottle of strong spirits.
"Can't you drink just a little?"
His daughter's voice echoed in his mind.
In the end, Leonard set the bottle down and staggered toward his bed.
He collapsed onto it, back first, and closed his eyes.
How many years had it been since he'd seen his daughter's face for this long?
The face of his daughter, screaming her resentment at her father with her whole body... was, as always, the spitting image of his wife.
"...Illusion."
Leonard softly summoned his spirit.
A spirit with a translucent, pure white female form appeared, gracefully circling the air once.
"You called, Contractor?"
The spirit of illusion, Illusion.
Leonard's familial spirit, capable of conjuring hallucinations before one's eyes or granting desired dreams.
"The usual dream."
At the familiar command, Illusion pressed her lips to her contractor's forehead. Soon, Leonard fell into a magical slumber.
Aside from his brief waking hours, he spent nearly every moment of his day lost in illusions.
The dream he wished for was always the same. His wife, still alive. Her smiling face, her pouting expression, her flowing movements, her joyful voice...
Only when held in his wife's arms, just as she had been in life, did Leonard find peace from his torment.
Eleven years already. An illusion as addictive as any drug.
* * *
On her way back to her room after seeing her father.
"Why didn't you mention Molga Diorus?"
Wishit asked. He had been watching the entire exchange from beside her.
"Hey, Rubettria."
"..."
"Are you ignoring me right now?"
Fed up, Wishit stepped in front of her. She halted, startled.
"Seeing her face-to-face seemed to get through to the duke a bit. You should've just told him the truth about everything Molga's done to you all these years and kicked her out like that old raccoon butler."
"..."
She didn't respond, instead glancing around. A few passing maids were visible.
Spirits were visible only to their contractors. Even if Wishit, in the form of the crown prince, suddenly appeared in the manor hallway, there was no need to cover it up.
Spirit users often looked like they were talking to thin air when conversing with their spirits.
'But my situation is a little different...'
After ignoring Wishit a bit longer, she hurried to her room, locked the door, and finally spoke.
"Wishit, please."
"What."
"Don't talk to me when there are people around. What if I slip and answer? What if it gets out that I successfully contracted a spirit? What if they find out it's a wish spirit?"
"..."
"You don't want to throw away the life Rubette worked so hard to save, do you?"
Realizing his mistake, Wishit fell silent.
There was a complicated backstory here, but to sum it up...
I was known in the Diorus Ducal House as the only non-contractor who had failed to bond with a spirit—and it had to stay that way.
Because Wishit was classified as a "dangerous" spirit.
'If it got out that I contracted a dangerous spirit, I'd be dead soon enough. That's why Rubette hid Wishit her whole life.'
Finishing her brief reflection, she said,
"If you want to talk to me when someone's nearby, you know? You can send telepathy straight into my head."
Contractors and spirits could communicate via telepathy even when apart.
When summoned nearby, telepathy wasn't necessary, but since Rubette had to hide Wishit's existence, they always used it unless alone.
She patted the shoulder of Wishit, whose momentum had deflated.
"Curious why I didn't mention Molga?"
"Yeah."
She slowly approached the table and sat down as she began to explain.
"Molga's the real power in this house, and she's an angel of a woman. After Mom died, she took care of us three siblings like a mother while Dad lost his mind. She abused Rubette, sure, but she doted on Viego oppa and Victor oppa with utmost care. Right?"
"Yeah."
"Viego oppa, who's basically the head of the house now, is on Molga's side. And every servant in the ducal house has been bought off by her."
"..."
"What if I suddenly go to Dad, bawl my eyes out, and beg him to kick Molga out because she's bullying me? Would he go, 'Oh, my poor daughter,' and chase her away? Or would he scold me for throwing a childish tantrum?"
"..."
"We already have less of a bond than strangers. Do you think he'd take my word over the family elder's and kick her out? No way. It's different from some lowly old butler servant."
"Still, if you'd said something, wouldn't he at least start suspecting that devil woman?"
"You're right. That's why I didn't say it outright, but I made sure Dad got a good feel for this abnormal environment I'm living in. He'll figure out the crazy situation in this house eventually."
"..."
Wishit seemed unable to understand her somewhat passive approach but shut his mouth with a sullen expression, unwilling to argue further.
Knowing why he was so sensitive, she felt grateful yet sorry for him.
"Worried that when Molga comes back, I'll end up like Rubette?"
"You'll have a whole new experience meeting that woman yourself. I'm not sure you can handle it."
"You'd better prepare to handle me. No running away even if your new contractor turns out to be a mad dog."
Wishit stared at her grinning response, then sighed and asked,
"Why'd you suddenly ask the duke for money?"
"Oh, that? I need some startup capital."
"For what out of the blue?"
"To make money and get independent from this dump. I promised to live Rubette's life happily. And being an unemployed bum isn't happy."
"Who calls a noble lady an unemployed bum?"
"Hmm, by my standards, at least. 'Daughter of Duke Diorus' isn't a job."
She nodded toward the pile of fashion magazines stacked on the table. She'd asked Rebecca to bring them to gauge local trends.
"Know what my job was in that other world?"
"Actress?"
"Nope."
Wishit must know what she did, having watched both Rubette and her.
He blinked thoughtfully, then said,
"...Clothing store owner?"
"..."
They stared at each other in silence for a moment.
It was right, but...
"Doesn't that sound too modest? Call me a luxury brand CEO. That clothing store you mentioned? It hit 1.2 trillion won in sales last year."
"Hmm, yeah. I don't get it all, but..."
Wishit scratched his ear and asked,
"So the plan is to open a clothing store here too?"
"Exactly. Already got the brand name: [Blanc de Ruby]. Pulled it from my nickname."
She propped her chin on her hands at the table, pondering seriously.
"But there's a problem."
"What?"
"You can't just launch a brand on a whim. Need some key things."
"Like what?"
"Money. Initial investment."
"You borrowed from the duke."
"Right. And a designer with flair."
She snapped her fingers in front of Wishit's eyes and added,
"I'll handle that, so don't worry."
"And?"
"A tailor to make the clothes."
"The tailor coming to see you tonight? You'll ask her?"
"Right! Quick on the uptake. That's why I'm having her make workout clothes too, killing two birds with one stone."
"Then you're all set. What else?"
"Yeah. Missing the most important thing..."
She covered her face and swallowed a sigh.
"A model."
"A model?"
"There are already top tailors' shops overflowing in this capital. To close the gap jumping in late to a saturated market, I need a seriously famous clothes horse."
Ever wonder why they sponsor celebrities? To promote the clothes, obviously.
'I was living proof.'
Every outfit I wore as a celeb sparked trends. Cosmetics I applied, accessories I sported—everything sold out the next day after public appearances, from my hair to my toes.
In other words, planning a promo strategy leveraging a model's fame.
"Hiring people should be easy for you."
"Sure, I could hire pretty, stylish folks with great figures if I shop around. But that's not the priority. I need a model's fame."
"Fame?"
"Need someone people idolize. What they call 'celebs' in that world. At least one female model and one male to start the business confidently..."
It made her glum again just saying it.
"Fortunately, I have a female model in mind. The problem is..."
"The male?"
"Yeah."
She nodded, turning to Wishit.
'Crown Prince...'
Looking at his handsome crown prince face made her mouth water involuntarily.
'The crown prince is the empire's top heartthrob right now. Perfect model.'
Reading her eyes, Wishit let out a hollow laugh.
"...The crown prince?"
"No chance, right?"
"He'd make a great promo model."
"Nah. I'm confident I could convince him, but getting to meet him is the issue. No connections..."
With no popularity, no network, no status—just her family as her only asset, like a commoner—getting a one-on-one with the ultra-busy celeb was a pipe dream.
Like the odds of landing a solo fan meet with a top-tier celebrity.
'Being on the other side feels so weird.'
Who'd have guessed? 'That' Juliet Karentina dropping from A-list celeb to fan #1 overnight?
She sighed bitterly, and Wishit shrugged.
"You've got a connection. He won't model for you, but meeting him? Not hard."
"Me? How?"
"Your second brother. Pretty sure he's glued to the crown prince 24/7."
"Oh!"
Right. Come to think of it...
Victor Diorus. Her second oppa existed.
* * *
Decard Empire, Imperial Capital.
The imperial knights' outdoor training grounds.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Two razor-sharp real swords clashed repeatedly in the air.
As always, two men were putting on a dazzling display, drawing admiring gazes from the other knights.
"Man, no matter how many times I see it, His Highness the Crown Prince makes even sparring look artistic. Is a perfect sword technique all in the face?"
Crown Prince Lark van Rashumah Decard.
"But lately, the vice captain's been closing in fast. Heard from a Valet lady that in the [Knight of the Month] popularity poll, the vice captain came in second, just two votes shy. His Highness always dominated before."
And the Imperial Knights Vice Captain, Victor Diorus.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Their extraordinary beauty made the swordfight look like a graceful sword dance.
After a few more exchanges, Lark exploited an opening, his blade coming to a sharp halt at Victor's throat. A few strands of Victor's red hair were sliced clean and floated in the air.
"..."
A clean victory.
Clang—!
Victor unhesitatingly dropped his sword to the ground.
Then,
"I win."
The man holding the unofficial monthly [Knight of the Month] poll crown for 42 straight months among the capital's noble ladies...
The empire's current top heartthrob, Crown Prince Lark van Rashumah Decard, grinned and said,
"That makes it 53 matches: 26 wins, 2 draws, 25 losses."