Chapter 52

Perfoné was the only one smiling.

Even Lervian looked stiff, and I—at a complete loss for words—remained silent.

Better to say nothing than to have my words twisted.

“I heard you found her.”

Damian didn’t look at me once. After a single fleeting glance, he kept his eyes elsewhere.

We used to be close at the Academy. But now, the air between us was colder than between strangers.

“It reminded me of the old days,” Perfoné said with a nostalgic smile. His expression was just like the one I remembered from our childhood.

But somehow, now it felt… calculated.

“Seeing the three of us together should quiet the silly rumors.”

Rumors. Yes. Of course.

“If we don’t handle them now, they’ll only grow worse once the marriage is announced.”

We had agreed to a fake engagement—one that would end in a year. And yet Perfoné’s lies flowed effortlessly, like they were second nature.

He’d told me he had someone else he truly loved. So why was he playing this so smoothly?

Damian’s brows furrowed.

“You’re marrying the princess?”

His voice was sharp, his tone disapproving.

Perfoné nodded, as if understanding Damian’s reaction.

“So you summoned me just to clear up a rumor?”

“Wouldn’t you prefer the gossip ended?” Perfoné replied calmly. “After all, I wouldn’t want it said that my cousin was in love with my fiancée.”

That word—“gossip”—landed like a slap.

Their eyes darted to me.

I clenched my fists.

In three years, April had unraveled everything I’d built—my friendship with Damian, my bond with the noble ladies, even Perfoné.

“I’m the one who begged His Highness today, Damian.”

His red eyes snapped to mine.

“Just for today, go along with it. Please.”

Damian’s frown deepened, then he looked back to Perfoné.

“You think one outing will end the rumors?”

“Better than doing nothing,” Perfoné replied with a spring-like smile.

If I had asked, Damian might’ve refused. But with the Crown Prince requesting it, it was harder to decline.

Besides, Perfoné even mentioned wanting Damian as my escort, since Sir Beatrice was unavailable. What a clever excuse.

In truth, Damian’s swordsmanship wasn’t the “protective” kind. It was deadly. The Valstein style was meant to kill, not guard.

Still, no one could match his skill. That’s why even among knights, he remained an outlier.

“You’ll join us, won’t you?” Perfoné asked again.

Damian let out a long sigh. It was as close to acceptance as we’d get.

“Then wait in the parlor while I get ready.”

Perfoné left, and an attendant guided us to a nearby salon.

It was a short wait, but being alone in the imperial palace with Damian… only added fuel to the rumors.

I didn’t sit. Damian did. Casually sipping tea.

“Is it just me, or is this awkward?” I asked.

He answered with a flat, “It is.”

The last time we were alone like this—it must’ve been that day.

His wine-red eyes pierced straight through me.

I gripped my skirt tightly.

His gaze was icy. Hostile.

At the Academy, even when nobles shunned him for being adopted, Damian had never shown anger. But now?

Now he looked ready to cut me down.

His voice came out low. I barely heard it.

“How long do you plan to keep living like this?”

I bit my cheek to keep silent.

Whatever happened during the past three years, April must have truly destroyed everything. Even this.

Damian rose.

He was a head taller than me, his presence imposing. I instinctively stepped back.

But the room, for all its luxury, was too small to flee.

My back hit the wall.

He approached.

His voice dropped even lower.

“You really think you can keep fooling everyone?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He scoffed.

“How long are you going to pretend to be April?”

My heart plummeted.

Not even when I was cast out by the duchy had I felt like this.

But… at the same time, a strange warmth filled my chest.

He knew.

Someone still remembered the real me.

That was why his relationship with April had fallen apart.

And clearly, April never told him the truth.

Why? Especially if she feared losing Perfoné.

“Wherever you came from,” Damian said coldly, “whatever lies you’ve told among the nobles—I don’t care.”

He looked exhausted. Pained.

“I don’t care what you say about me, either.”

His red eyes reflected my face. But I knew—it wasn’t me he was seeing.

“Just tell me… where the real April is.”

And just like that, the warmth vanished.