Chapter 51

 “This will be my first—and last—unreasonable request,” I said, my voice steady.

If I wanted the real April to return to the duchy, then Perfoné was my best bait.

“You used to suggest we go out first… You’ve really changed.”

I pouted, like a sister dealing with her sulky teenage brother.

Perfoné’s eyes glinted with subtle mischief. His golden features glowed in the sunlight. Then, his pale lips parted.

“You can go out—but on one condition.”

“Name it.”

I doubted he’d ask for anything unreasonable. Unless he wanted me to take Barak along—not likely.

“I want to bring one more person with us.”

“Sure. Who?”

“Damian Dinia Valstein.”

I blinked. That name again.

Three of us? Me, Perfoné, and Damian?

I couldn’t hide my surprise. Perfoné studied my face, saying nothing. The scent of damp wood in his office brought me back to the past.

“You’ll need at least five more years if you want to hide something from me, Your Highness.”

Scents are said to carry memories. His mind drifted to the moments April had saved him—when he couldn’t breathe in the rose-scented imperial palace.

April had always been his refuge.

“I’ll accept your condition,” I replied.

Perfoné noticed how calm I seemed despite the awkwardness surrounding Damian. It was as if nothing had ever happened between us.

“I’ll summon Sir Damian, then.”

For the first time in three years, unfamiliar emotions stirred in Perfoné’s chest.

He had long believed this April was a fake. But when she spoke, smiled, and looked at him like the girl he once knew…

“Who are you, really?” he wanted to ask.

Are you… the April I remember?

If there were truly two Aprils—one real, one fake—what had happened in the duchy?

Why didn’t she say anything?

He masked his thoughts behind a gentle smile.

Elsewhere…

[If anyone talks nonsense, don’t bother being polite.]

Damian chuckled at the image of his father, Duke Danyan, appearing in the communication mirror.

He wasn’t a child anymore—past twenty. The word “adopted” no longer stung.

Sometimes he wondered how old his parents thought he was.

[Damian, you can always come back home.]

“I’m fine, really. Nothing to worry about.”

No one dared insult him to his face—not unless they’d lost their minds.

Beside his father, his mother’s golden hair shimmered like dandelions.

[You sure it’s not about the princess?]

[Are the rumors true?]

He smiled softly. Of course they’d heard.

After spending two years at the estate, the moment April returned to the capital, so did he. The connection was obvious.

“I didn’t return because of the rumors.”

He had come to the capital for one reason: to find the real April Hill Rise.

He’d even hired the information guild. The fake April pretending to be her… he’d let her panic in silence. That was punishment enough.

[Have you seen the Crown Prince?]

“Yes.”

[Still being an idiot, I hear.]

His sister Milena’s sharp northern tongue made him chuckle.

Though they hadn’t met in person, he’d heard plenty of rumors. He nodded, confirming what she feared.

Milena sighed.

[He won’t come to his senses until he gets rid of Rozian.]

Everyone in the empire knew about Rozian and the emperor. Damian smiled gently.

Though adopted, his parents never treated him as anything less than their own son.

[If the palace spreads nonsense, don’t stay quiet.]

“Yes, Father.”

He recalled his father once telling him to punch anyone who dared insult him.

Though he was now a man, they still worried like he was a child.

As he ended the call, a knock came.

“A messenger from the palace.”

“The palace?”

Only Perfoné would summon him—but for what?

[Go if they’re calling you, son.]

His mother’s voice followed him out.

Damian strode through the palace halls.

Why would Perfoné call him now? They hadn’t spoken since the rumors about April. There was nothing left between them.

Had Perfoné picked up on something?

If he asked directly, Damian had already decided—he’d tell him everything. The truth.

He hated seeing a fake steal April’s life.

Outside the crown prince’s office, Sir Lervian announced his arrival.

“Sir Valstein has arrived, Your Highness.”

As the doors opened, the first thing Damian noticed wasn’t golden hair—but beige.

The eyes that met his were an icy gray-blue.

And his expression darkened.

Who are you, pretending to be her?

It had been nearly a year since they last met—and everything about her felt wrong.

Perfoné rose.

Damian’s black hair and wine-colored eyes were just as he remembered.

But the moment their gazes met, there was clear hostility on Damian’s face—directed straight at her.

He’s changed, she thought.

The noble girls at tea had said he hadn’t visited once since her return.

She had hoped for warmth. Instead, his expression was cold and unfamiliar.

“So… we’re all together again. It’s been a while,” she said, forcing a calm smile.