Chapter 56

Sometimes, human instincts struck when least expected. Was this it? The reason behind the relentless anxiety gnawing at her all night?

With fate’s nemesis standing so close, it was only natural for her senses to go into overdrive.

Why is Jocelyn here…?

Odelliana felt as if her feet had been nailed to the floor. Heat burned behind her eyes, yet her chest was ice cold. The fury she had expected to ignite upon seeing him was instead eerily calm—vast and unfathomable, like the abyss.

Her gaze flickered downward, scanning for anything she could use as a weapon.

Jocelyn moved. Slow, deliberate strides closed the distance between them until he stood just before her.

“You look alike,” he mused.

She didn’t respond.

“You resemble each other far too much. Are you twins?”

His fingers brushed against her jaw, tilting her face upward. The touch was deceptively gentle—mocking in its familiarity. He studied her from different angles, as if inspecting a rare artifact, before letting out an amused chuckle.

“I wondered what was being hidden in a place like this… and it turns out to be something truly extraordinary. Our dear father-in-law certainly went to great lengths.”

Odelliana’s fists clenched, nails digging into her palms.

If only she had something—anything—sharp enough, she wouldn’t hesitate to drive it into his throat.

Or perhaps she should bite him instead. If she lunged with full force, she could tear through flesh, sever an artery—

No. Strangling him might be the better option. If she pressed hard enough, could she break his neck?

Her thoughts spiraled, grinding noisily under the weight of calculation.

Remnants of love for the man she had once been willing to die for.

Searing hatred for the traitor who had mercilessly abandoned her.

A desperate yearning to grab him by the hem and sob like a child.

Overwhelming fear of his callous cruelty.

All of it twisted together like a fevered haze, suffocating her.

The urge to kill him surged through her veins. A thousand ways to attack him flashed through her mind, but no matter how she played it out, she failed every time. She had no weapon, and her feeble body alone was no threat to him.

“Introduce yourself, my lady,” Jocelyn drawled.

She remained silent.

“…Can’t speak?” His voice was laced with amusement, but there was a challenge beneath it.

If she opened her mouth now, her unfiltered emotions would spill out. She would lose control—lashing out, crying, demanding to know why.

Why had he cast her aside?

Why had he let her die?

Her lips trembled, but no sound came. Stay calm… Not yet. Not now.

She barely clung to reason, forcing herself to suppress the chaos roiling inside her. Her fingertips curled into the fabric of her skirt, shoulders drawn tight in apprehension. A chill spread through her chest, creeping down her limbs—yet instead of feeling cold, her body burned as if scalded.

Tears threatened to fall. She ducked her head, hoping to conceal the glisten in her eyes.

That was when his voice came again—mocking, razor-sharp.

“Judging by that limp, I’d say one of your legs is useless. And now you won’t even speak? This is quite the disaster.”

She remained frozen.

Jocelyn let out a quiet chuckle. “So, the noble House of Grüsewald produced a cripple, and not only that, they chose to keep the child alive? What a disgrace.”

He didn’t need her to confirm anything—he had already pieced the story together himself.

The way she leaned on her cane told him she was lame. Her silence convinced him she was mute. And her striking resemblance to Odette—her silver hair and pale blue eyes, unmistakable markers of Grüsewald lineage—allowed him to deduce the rest.

She was the Duke’s unacknowledged child.

Jocelyn’s eyes gleamed with intrigue.

“No wonder this place felt off,” he mused, pacing leisurely. “It’s been abandoned for ages but never sealed off. I always found it odd—why restrict access to this area? Why did the manor’s ruins still feel… lived in?”

He turned to her with a slow smirk. “Turns out, they were hiding a monumental secret.”

The way his lips curled in satisfaction made her stomach churn. What could possibly be so amusing?

Then, his hand landed on her shoulder, a touch too familiar—too taunting.

Revulsion shot through her like a jolt of electricity. She recoiled on instinct, swatting his hand away.

Jocelyn chuckled, as if her reaction was nothing more than an amusing inconvenience. Shaking off his wrist, he sighed. “Does having a foul temper run in the Grüsewald bloodline?”

At those words, Aidas Rashua, Jocelyn’s knight, reached for his sword.

Jocelyn, however, raised a hand, stopping him with an air of indulgent amusement. “Leave it,” he said lazily. “If she’s been living in a place like this, she probably hasn’t even received a proper education. I should be the bigger person.”

Aidas hesitated. “But—”

“Let’s look elsewhere,” Jocelyn interrupted. “There might be more hidden away.”

Odelliana’s mind snapped into focus.

Matthias—he’s still in my room.

A cold clarity washed over her.

She couldn’t let this worthless bastard lay eyes on Matthias.

The realization struck with such force that, in an instant, the murderous rage that had been roiling inside her simply… vanished. It startled her—how abruptly her fury dissipated—but she seized control of it, forcing herself into perfect composure.

There’s nothing I can do right now. Stay sharp. Stay rational.

If she had been alone… Yes. She likely would have thrown caution to the wind, lunged at Jocelyn, and attacked him with reckless abandon, consequences be damned.

But she wasn’t alone anymore.

She had someone to protect—someone just as much a victim of their past life as she was.

A pitiful companion. A disciple. A rival.

A boy who had once been desperate for love, starving for praise.

Why had she brought Matthias here? Why had she made him a knight?

If she let her emotions take control now—if she attacked Jocelyn in blind rage—everything she had built would crumble to nothing.

Odelliana stepped forward, blocking his path before he could leave. She had to stall him. Which meant she had to provoke him.

“And just who are you calling uneducated?” she asked coolly.

“…What?”

“I’m talking about you.”

A scoff of disbelief left his lips before he leaned lazily against the wall, arms crossing over his chest.

“So, you can speak, my lady,” he mused. “I was beginning to think you were mute, seeing as you kept your mouth shut this whole time.”

Odelliana forced herself to hold his gaze. “…I was simply too stunned to respond. Barging into a lady’s quarters without permission—how disgraceful.”

Her voice wavered slightly. Was it from fury? Or tension? She couldn’t tell. Every word she forced out felt like it was tightening around her throat.

“If you have business with me, follow the proper procedure and request an audience,” she continued.

Jocelyn let out another laugh, a mix of amusement and mockery. His expression remained composed, but beneath his tousled brown locks, his sharp gaze brimmed with condescension.

“Procedure?” he echoed. “And what procedure would that be, exactly? You don’t even officially exist.”

“And yet, here I stand.” Odelliana’s chin lifted ever so slightly. “This is my living space. No one may trespass here—family or not. One would think someone of your education would know that.”

A smirk tugged at Jocelyn’s lips. “For someone who looks so insignificant, you sure have a lot to say.”

She said nothing.

“A cripple sullying noble blood…” He clicked his tongue. “It’s a wonder they even let you live. I can’t fathom what the Duke was thinking. What use could he possibly have for something like you?”

Jocelyn had always been merciless toward those he deemed worthless. He valued talent over birthright but had nothing but disdain for incompetence. That was why he had always surrounded himself with the most capable individuals.

It wasn’t just because he offered them opportunities despite their social standing—more than anything, it was because the weak simply didn’t survive in his presence.

Back then, she had admired him for it. He had seemed different from the other nobles—someone who valued ability over pedigree.

It was one of the many reasons she had loved him.

But now, staring at the young, unaccomplished version of her former husband, she found it laughable.

“Why are you smiling?” Jocelyn asked, eyes narrowing.

Odelliana tilted her head, a smirk ghosting her lips. “It’s just… I find you utterly pathetic.”

For a moment, Jocelyn’s expression darkened.

So this is what he was like, she thought. Young, foolish, unimpressive.

And with that smirk, she struck at the very thing he had never been able to tolerate.

“Shall I return your own words to you?” she murmured, her voice razor-sharp.

Jocelyn’s jaw tensed.

“A bastard-born prince tainting the royal bloodline…” she continued, taking a slow step closer. “Just existing is an insult to the crown, isn’t it? A lowborn disgrace polluting the name of the Velnian royal family.”

His fingers twitched.

“Why did they even bother keeping you alive?” she asked, voice soft—poison wrapped in silk. “After all, what use could they possibly have for you?”