The Fake Madam Disappeared

Vol. 1 - Chapter 8

Edmund turned and stared intently at the hand gripping his sleeve. Oddly, the hand clinging to his sleeve as if it were a final lifeline, exuded a sense of desperation.

“Let’s talk tomorrow.”

“We need to talk now.”

Her stubborn tone made Edmund pause for a moment.

Even though they lived under the same roof, they rarely saw each other. Moreover, it had been a long time since they’ve exchanged words. There was no particular reason for not talking nor any reason to start a conversation. That’s why it felt rather unfamiliar for Daphne to actively ask for a conversation.

Edmund smelled the scent of alcohol carried by the light wind. That explained why her demeanor was so different from what he was used to.

At that moment, Edmund realized something was wrong with his body. There were times when his aura surged unexpectedly, outside of the usual periods when controlling it was difficult. But it had never come on so suddenly like this before. If Edmund made even the slightest mistake, those around him, especially Daphne, standing right in front of him…

“It will only take a moment. I…”

“Do as you wish.”

“What?”

Edmund cut off Daphne’s words as he shook off her hand holding his sleeve. Then, looking at her staring at him, he said, “Anything. Do whatever you want, my Lady.”

Edmund slowly exhaled, trying to suppress the raging aura inside him.

“No matter how we are as a married couple, coming to me while intoxicated is inappropriate.”

His voice came out calm. Edmund bit the inside of his cheek, doing his best to maintain an unaffected demeanor.

“Please go back, my Lady.”

Edmund impatiently turned around and grabbed the doorknob.

“Married… couple?”

He would’ve entered the room if not for the voice behind him.

“Have you ever thought of me as your wife?”

His head ached, and his mind felt foggy. Without fully understanding what Daphne meant, Edmund responded thoughtlessly.

“I… never thought of you as my wife.”

His stomach churned. His head throbbed. He hid his emotions behind various excuses.

So when he turned around, Edmund deliberately erased from his memory the faint bruises on her shoulder faintly visible beneath her shawl.

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“Is that you, Marinda?”

Marinda abruptly stopped in her tracks at the sound of someone calling her.

“Angela.”

She forced a smile, turning around to find Angela standing there, as expected. A maid standing behind Angela poked out her head.

“Did you come back today? I’m so envious of you. I wonder when I will ever get out of the North.”

“Well, it was all thanks to Madam.”

“It’s still something to be thankful for.”

Pfft. Angela, who had been quietly listening to their conversation, covered her mouth with her hand as an involuntary laugh slipped out. But Marinda’s face had already hardened, having heard the mocking tone in Angela’s laughter.

Marinda lifted the corners of her mouth.

“Angela, did something good happen?”

“No, it’s just that of all people, you are saying such things that it made me laugh without knowing.”

Angela lowered the hand that had been covering her mouth, but the faint sneer remained there.

“Uhm, I don’t really understand what you’re saying. Ah! I need to go now. I bought so many souvenirs that it would take me a while to unpack them.”

“Souvenirs?”

The maids standing beside Angela’s eyes sparkled with interest. Most of them were ordinary commoners who had been born and raised in the North. Even when the blizzards subsided, the region was still infested with monsters, so aside from the merchants who visited once a month, few ventured into the North.

Because of this, the less affluent maids had rarely, if ever, left the North.

“I’ll go and help you!”

“Hey, you’re busy today! I’ll help her! I have a lot of time today!”

The mention of souvenirs was enough to make their eyes turn, eager to assist.

‘Idiots.’

As Marinda observed them eagerly volunteering to help with her luggage, she mocked them internally while outwardly maintaining a broad smile.

“Then, let’s…”

“Have you all forgotten what the Chambermaid said?” That was when Angela’s sharp voice cut into their conversation, “She warned us not to make any scene as things have been unsettling in the mansion lately. Besides, who would want to go against the Young Master tsk.”

“That’s true, but…”

“Angela, don’t be so strict. Do you want to come too?”

Marinda and Angela’s eyes clashed in mid-air.

_‘Stuck in a place like this.’ _

Angela looked down on Marinda.

‘Where do you think a thief like you can escape?’

Angela scorned at Marinda’s hypocrisy.

As the war of nerves between them continued, the maids began to sense the unease and quietly retreated. They were tempted by the souvenirs Marinda had brought back, but they knew better than to get on the bad side of Angela, who was related to the Chambermaid.

“Sorry, Marinda. I’ll go next time.”

“What? Wait, let me see what I bought for you…”

“I heard an interesting rumor, by the way.” Angela interrupted. “Do you remember His Excellency and Madam’s portrait from five years ago? The one painted by the royal artist? It’s gone missing.”

Marinda, who had been trying to stop the retreating maids, froze in place.

“And they say that the thief who stole it works in the mansion.”

Whether by coincidence or not, Angela’s gaze lingered on Marinda as she said this. Smiling sweetly at the now-stiffened Marinda, Angela turned and walked away.

“Let’s go. We have a lot to do, right?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Marinda was left alone in an instant.

‘Thief.’

As she recalled Angela’s parting words, the image of Angela’s mocking expression flashed in her mind, causing her to clench her fists tightly.

‘Dn it! Dn it!’

Marinda stormed into her room, checking the hallway thoroughly before locking the door behind her. Without even taking off her coat, she moved a large frame that covered one wall of the room. A small hidden space was revealed, and Marinda quickly entered.

At first, she had considered taking it with her on the trip, but the risk was too great, so she had abandoned the idea. It had been left untouched for so long that Marinda’s movements were frantic and unfocused.

The room was cold and pitch-dark, with not a single beam of light penetrating. In the center was a painting draped with a cloth. Marinda knelt in front of it, her eyes half-closed in ecstasy as she stared at the painting.

‘Finally.’

‘My chance had come – the chance to make him completely mine, the one I had always admired from afar.’

‘Of course, we were destined to be together!’

She could still vividly recall the thrill that had shot through her head and reverberated down her spine the moment they first met.

“Yes, I’ve endured a lot for the past five years.”

Though she knew that their relationship was worse than that of strangers, the thought of Daphne being called “Madam” always made her really... she had to suppress the urge to lash out at Daphne. But now, all the obstacles between her and him have vanished. Marinda smiled, her heart brimming with anticipation.

At that moment, the cloth, covered with accumulated dust, slipped slightly. Half of the painting was now visible. It depicted a man with black hair, dressed in an attire he rarely wore – a tailcoat – looking straight ahead.

“Haa… I really missed you, Your Excellency.”

It was Edmund.

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“... Your Excellency!!”

A sudden gasp burst forth as if someone had pulled him up from underwater.

“Huk, huk…”

Edmund panted heavily, clutching his shirt near his chest as though he might tear it apart. Cold sweat soaked his back and forehead. He roughly wiped the sweat from his brow, his shoulders rising and falling sharply. By now, the sun had set, and thick twilight was rapidly swallowing the world.

“Are you alright, Your Excellency?”

Johann asked urgently, handing him some lukewarm water. It was only after receiving the water that Edmund realized his throat was parched, and he gulped it down in one go.

“I knocked on the door many times, but there was no answer so I came in. My apologies.”

As the time drew nearer, Johann’s concern for Edmund grew. Thus, risking reprimand, he had entered the office.

What Johann saw was Edmund, his large form curled up tightly on the sofa, fast asleep. Since Edmund suffered from insomnia, Johann had planned to quietly leave, but when he noticed cold sweat pouring from Edmund’s forehead like rain, he couldn’t help but wake him.

“Painter…”

“Pardon?”

“Call the painter.”

Johann hesitated, straightening his bent back.

“Right now!”

At Edmund’s shout, Johann snapped to attention.

Edmund ran his hands through his sweat-drenched bangs as Johann hurried out of the room. Although the dream was hazy, Daphne’s face lingered like an afterimage. It was the most vivid he could remember of her.

Edmund abruptly stood up and began pacing the office, thinking and thinking again, fearing he might forget even this afterimage.

“I-I heard you summoned me, Your Excellency!”

In the meantime, the painter rushed in, barely having time to change out of his night clothes. His glasses seemed to have been lost somewhere along the way.

“Arched eyebrows, eyes slightly drooping at the corners. Her nose and isn’t big, her face is slender, and her lips are…” Edmund fumbled with his own lips, “Her lips are about this thick…”

Philip, who had been rudely awakened, stood dazed for a moment before quickly realizing that Edmund’s ramblings were about the Duchess. He hurriedly took out a notebook he had grabbed in a rush.

Though Edmund’s descriptions fluctuated at times, after a lengthy exchange, a rough semblance of a human face began to take shape. Sweat dripped from Philip’s forehead onto the notebook. He was so focused that he forgot to wipe it away.

“You’ve worked hard.”

Only after the deep darkness had settled did Edmund dismiss him. His throat was parched from speaking continuously.

“You, too, have worked hard, Your Excellency.”

Philip, after completing several dozen sketches for Edmund’s approval and revising them based on feedback, finally produced the most accurate sketch. Crumpled papers were piled high at Philip’s feet.

“Go back and rest.”

“Yes.”

Philip rose up from his seat after hours. With a haggard face, Philip cradled the final sketch like a precious treasure and staggered out of the room as Johann entered.

Edmund leaned his forehead against his clasped hands.

“What about the painting?”

“My apologies. We’re still looking for it.”

Which meant there was no progress.

Edmund knew as much. He was well aware of how slim the chances were of finding a painting when they didn’t even know when it had been stolen.

“But as soon as word got out that Your Excellency was looking for the missing painting, a rumor surfaced that one of the servants had stolen it.”

Edmund, who had been leaning deeply against the back of the chair, immediately straightened his posture.

“That rumor. Find out more about it.”