Chapter 11

Just as Lizzie had said, the table that day was filled with all kinds of meat dishes.

The steak, grilled to perfection with rich spices and tender, high-quality beef, melted in her mouth. It almost felt wrong to eat something so luxurious under the current circumstances.

‘I wish Noah could taste this too. I want to bring him here soon.’

Thinking of the boy who used to chew his food with his round cheeks puffed out brought a soft smile to her lips.

For someone whose life had known no real joy, Noah had been a blessing, a gift filled with warmth.

Between the delicious meal and the fond memory it stirred, Agnes’s expression was noticeably brighter by the time she finished eating.

Come to think of it, moping would change nothing anyway.

‘Dylan’s informant inside Overhen’s estate can’t possibly know everything. I should sort out what I know myself.’

Like the existence of that room behind Count Overhen’s bedchamber…

Agnes began recalling the details she had learned by chance as his wife.

Count Overhen had treated her as his possession, yet his arrogance often led him to reveal more than he should have.

As if believing she had no eyes, no mouth, no mind of her own.

“My lady! Lady Agnes!”

A familiar voice called from behind.

Startled, Agnes turned to find Lizzie running toward her, her face pale and anxious.

A strange sense of unease crept in.

Lizzie was a lively girl, yes, but she wasn’t thoughtless enough to dash through the halls of the townhouse while working.

Something serious must have happened.

Could it be news of Noah?

Agnes gathered her skirt and hurried to meet her.

“Lizzie, what is it?”

Panting, Lizzie finally managed to speak.

“My lady, a very, very important guest is on their way to the townhouse!”

“An important guest? Who?”

“I don’t know! The head maid told me to hurry and help you get ready, but her face was as white as paper!”

There was only one possibility.

Agnes realized it almost instantly.

There might be many important guests to visit House Vasteron, but for the head maid, who was usually composed, to look that terrified, there could be only one.

The Emperor.

Dylan’s half-sister.

Cali Harkvitz.

Agnes swallowed hard.

‘She’s coming to see me.’

Just yesterday, Dylan had been meeting with the Emperor at the palace.

There was no way she would miss him so soon after that. If the visit wasn’t for him, then it had to be about Agnes.

‘It would’ve been easier to summon me to the palace. So why come here in person?’

Her expression turned grave as she rushed toward her room.

She had to change clothes and fix her hair at once.

When she entered, the chamber was already full of maids, clearly gathered under the head maid’s orders.

They moved with the determination of soldiers preparing for battle, working in silence to dress and prepare her. It wasn’t to make her beautiful, but to make her look like the Duchess of Vasteron.

Thankfully, by the time the Emperor’s carriage reached the townhouse gates, Agnes’s preparations were complete.

She walked out to the front entrance just as an elegant carriage, modest in design yet radiating craftsmanship and authority, came into view.

When the door opened, a woman stepped out. Her resemblance to Dylan was unmistakable.

Her long black hair was tied high in a ponytail, and she wore sleek trousers that made her look more like a poised knight than an emperor.

Yet the moment her boots touched the ground, a commanding aura enveloped her.

The blue eyes that met the world head-on held both grace and dominance, compelling anyone in their presence to bow their head in respect.

Agnes did exactly that.

Lowering her knees, her waist, and finally her head, she offered the deepest courtesy.

“Agnes of House Everchen greets Your Majesty. It is a true honor to be granted this audience.”

Her heart pounded wildly.

Of all days, Dylan was away. She would have to receive the Emperor alone.

Perhaps that was intentional. The Emperor might have wanted to see for herself what kind of woman her half-brother had taken an interest in.

“You’re being far too formal. If you act like that, everyone will know who I am. I even took a carriage I use only when traveling in disguise. Lift your head.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“I told you not to call me that… Well, I suppose it’s too late now.”

Cali smiled, her presence as refreshing as a gust of cool wind.

No matter how casually she spoke, the woman before her didn’t falter. Agnes’s posture and expression remained calm, respectful, and perfectly composed.

To Cali, it was a little boring.

Most people panicked when the Emperor appeared unannounced, or at least stammered through polite chatter to impress her. This woman did neither.

Her face was delicate and pure, like a winter flower, beautiful, yes, but hardly unique.

‘So this is Dylan’s type?’

Cali rubbed her chin thoughtfully. To be fair, she had no idea what her brother’s type even was. As far as she knew, Dylan had never been close to any woman.

‘Maybe I should have a little fun.’

A mischievous smile curved her lips as she ran her fingers through her glossy hair.

Agnes remained still, head bowed politely.

Cali wanted to see that composed expression break.

“Agnes Everchen, was it? I thought your name was Overhen.”

At that, the air shifted. Every servant in sight stiffened, eyes darting in alarm.

Agnes’s divorce from Count Overhen had been a major scandal in noble society, but not the sort of affair an emperor would normally mention aloud.

The servants couldn’t tell whether the Emperor’s words were intentionally cruel or simply careless.

In the silence that followed, only Agnes moved, offering a gentle smile and a graceful nod.

“To think that Your Majesty remembers me is an honor beyond measure. Unfortunately, my ties with Count Overhen have ended, and I have reclaimed my family name.”

Her back and shoulders remained straight.

There was no hint of embarrassment, no trace of the pain one might expect from a woman abandoned by her husband. She stood there, serene, as if merely relieved to have shed an unwanted past.

“I see.”

Cali’s expression softened, but her tone carried the lazy edge of a predator toying with its prey.

“So, you must have been planning to return to your father’s estate, then?”

By now, everyone present could tell.

The Emperor knew everything, Agnes’s divorce, her engagement to Dylan, her estrangement from House Everchen, and the fact that she was being treated as mistress of the Vasteron townhouse.

This was no casual conversation. It was a deliberate test.

‘Do you really think you have the right to host me?’

That was what the Emperor was asking.

The servants kept their heads lowered, eyes flicking nervously between the two women.

They had only ever seen Agnes as gentle, kind, and soft-spoken, a woman too mild to belong in any scandal.

If she were to burst into tears or flee in humiliation now, no one would be surprised. The tension in the air was unbearable.

Only Sharon, the head maid, bit her lip in worry. Should she step forward to defend her mistress? Or would that only make things worse for both Agnes and Dylan?

Just then, Sharon caught a subtle motion in her peripheral vision.

Agnes, still facing the Emperor, lightly grasped the hem of her dress, making a small, deliberate gesture with her hand.

Her pale, slender fingers sent a clear message. Do not interfere.

Sharon blinked, quickly composing herself so that the Emperor wouldn’t notice.

Even so, concern lingered in her chest. Agnes might be a mother, but she hardly looked the part.

With her porcelain skin and clear golden eyes, she resembled a debutante more than a woman who had lived through marriage and loss.

How could someone like that hope to handle the Emperor’s sharp temper?

One wrong word, one awkward compliment, and Cali’s patience could vanish in an instant.

Even Gavelin, standing beside Sharon, was sweating. He pretended to remain calm, but the sheen of perspiration on his neck betrayed his unease.

For all his reverence toward the Emperor, he knew well how merciless she could be.

Agnes, however, was neither as timid as they feared nor as fragile as she appeared.

With a smooth motion, she performed an elegant curtsey refined through years of practice, her every movement graceful and poised.

Then, with a clear, steady smile, she spoke.

“Your Majesty must care for Lord Dylan very deeply.”