Madeleina.
The mont she introduced herself, it clicked.
In the novel, Elara had learned the truth directly from Aeliana's lips. The confession had co in fragnts—raw, bitter, unfiltered. Aeliana, still reeling from her experiences, had spoken the na with a mixture of resentnt and resignation. Madeleina. The one who had pushed her. The one who had sent her to her death.
And now, she was here.
Standing before .
Her expression was schooled into perfect composure, her movents asured, controlled. The ideal attendant. The kind of woman who had spent years mastering the art of silence, of carefully chosen words, of navigating the precarious world of nobility.
But it was her presence that caught my attention.
Aeliana had said it herself. "It was Madeleina….the attendant I had trusted the most….She was the one who pushed …"
And of course, alter it would be revealed what her reasons were.
Because, to her, the Dukedom mattered more than Aeliana's life.
That kind of conviction didn't just disappear because fate had taken a different path.
So, when I saw her standing there, introducing herself with that sa careful elegance, I knew.
The push had happened.
Maybe not in the exact way the novel had depicted. Maybe the details were different, maybe the circumstances had shifted. But the intent remained the sa. The years of pressure, of duty, of unwavering loyalty to the Duke—they weren't things that changed overnight.
I studied her carefully.
Her face didn't betray much, but her eyes—ah, her eyes. A perfect mask of civility, but beneath it, sothing sharper. Wariness. Calculation. Guilt.
So, when she sat across from and started to speak, I didn't wait for her to finish.
"The thing I wanted to talk about—"
"It's about how I saved Aeliana, isn't it?"
The words left my lips smoothly, cutting through whatever pretense she had prepared.
And there it was.
The slight stiffening of her shoulders. The tension in her fingers where they rested in her lap. She recovered quickly, but not quickly enough.
I tilted my head slightly, letting amusent creep into my voice.
"After all," I mused, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "you were the one who pushed her."
Silence.
Heavy.
Lingering.
The air between us grew thick, not with anger, not with denial, but with sothing else. A slow realization.
She didn't flinch. Didn't gasp. Didn't imdiately reject my words with the kind of dramatic outrage that lesser minds might have reached for.
Instead, she did what I expected.
She watched .
asured .
Assessing, calculating.
Ah, yes. The kind of person who knew better than to react carelessly.
I exhaled, leaning back slightly in my chair, rolling my shoulder as I let my own exhaustion settle into my bones. My body was still battered, my energy drained, but that didn't an I wasn't enjoying this.
"So," I murmured, tapping a finger against the armrest, "what does the esteed Madeleina wish to say to ?"
Would she ask how I knew? Would she deny it? Would she justify it?
Ah.
This was going to be interesting.
Madeleina's eyes sharpened, her fingers curling just slightly against the fabric of her dress. Her expression remained composed, but I could see it—that flicker of tension beneath the surface.
She wasn't a fool.
She knew I had no logical way of knowing what she had done.
And yet, I did.
She parted her lips, hesitated for half a second, then spoke, her voice quiet but steady.
"How…?"
A simple question.
But the weight behind it was heavy.
I tilted my head slightly, watching her, my smirk widening just a fraction.
"If you're asking how…" I murmured, tapping a finger idly against my armrest, "then that would be hard to answer."
Her eyes narrowed.
"And the answer," I continued, "would be even harder to believe."
Silence.
She didn't move, didn't react imdiately, but I could feel her calculating.
Doubt. Caution. Wariness.
All entirely reasonable.
I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbow against the chair, letting amusent flicker across my features.
"Well, it's just…"
I let the words hang for a mont before offering her sothing completely absurd.
"I ca from another world and saw many things that no one would ever co to know. What do you say?"
The mont the words left my lips, the tension in the room shifted.
For the first ti, I saw her composure crack.
Her teeth clenched, and I caught the faintest tremor in her breath before she exhaled sharply, forcing herself back into control.
"Please don't mock ."
Ah, there it was.
I chuckled, my shoulders shaking slightly as the laugh left naturally, effortlessly.
"See? That's why it's always fun to speak like this."
Even though I was telling the truth, the reality was so absurd that a lie would be far easier to believe.
I watched her, waiting for her next move.
Would she ignore it? Would she push for a different answer?
Or—
Would she accept that, no matter how ridiculous it sounded, I knew things that I had no business knowing?
Madeleina's lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze cutting into with razor-sharp intensity.
"You expect to believe that?" she said, voice steady but laced with frustration.
I shrugged, leaning back against the chair, the wood creaking slightly beneath . "Believe what you want." My tone was utterly unconcerned. "I don't owe you an explanation."
A flash of irritation flickered across her face, gone almost as quickly as it appeared. She was trained well—years of courtly manners and asured words, of keeping her composure even when the world conspired against her. But I had seen past that mask once already, and now, I could see the way her fingers tightened against the fabric of her sleeve, the barest tremor of tension in her shoulders.
Silence stretched between us, thick, weighted.
Then, I tilted my head, my smirk deepening just a fraction.
"But now, since you've asked a question…" I drawled, my voice turning almost lazy. "It's only fair that I get to ask one in return."
Madeleina stilled. Her posture remained composed, but I could feel it—that faint shift in the air between us, the way her breath hitched for just a fraction of a second.
"You didn't give an answer," She said in protest.
"I gave you one. You just didn't believe it." I continued, tapping a finger idly against the armrest
Another pause.
Her jaw tensed, her nails pressing into her palm, but she didn't speak.
Instead, she glared at .
Ah. There it was.
I chuckled softly, shaking my head as if thoroughly entertained by the sight before .
"That look is almost unfair," I mused, my black eyes gleaming with amusent. "Like I've committed so great cri by refusing to spoon-feed you the truth in a way you'd find more palatable."
Madeleina's glare didn't waver. If anything, it sharpened, her frustration crackling in the air between us like an unsaid accusation.
And yet, beneath that anger, beneath the carefully cultivated mask of cold rationality, I could see sothing else.
A question.
A fear.
Doubt.
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She was trying to fit into the shape of her world, trying to force the pieces of into a puzzle where I did not belong. Because if I did belong—if I did make sense—then that ant everything she had believed, everything she had done, was justified.
And if I didn't?
Then it ant the world had changed in ways she could no longer predict.
Her fingers curled just slightly against her lap, but she kept her voice steady when she finally spoke.
"I don't have ti for gas, Mister Luca."
I exhaled lightly, amused.
"Oh, but isn't it fun to pretend otherwise?"
Her lips parted, as if she wanted to argue, but she caught herself. Instead, she inhaled sharply through her nose, pressing whatever retort she had back down into the depths of her throat.
She was restraining herself.
That, too, was interesting.
"Alright," I said at last, stretching my arms out in a slow, languid motion before settling back against the chair. "Let's make this simple, then."
I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbow against my knee as I studied her.
"Do you love the Duke?"
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