Chapter 1
001. I Will Erase Madeleine
“What kind of trick did you pull?”
It was the last night of the victory banquet. The words, sharp as blades, were hurled at Olivia without restraint. Across from her, her father—the Duke of Madeleine—spoke in a voice cold enough to freeze the air.
“What did you whisper to the Grand Duke of Vikander that he would propose to you, the Crown Prince’s fiancée?”
Contempt flickered in his amethyst eyes as he looked down at her.
“There’s only one thing I ever asked of you. Just one—become the Crown Princess without causing any scandal. And you can’t even manage that? That one thing?”
As always.
Olivia had been standing there, silently enduring the familiar torrent of barbed criticism, when she suddenly laughed.
The duke’s brows arched in displeasure, but she had no intention of stopping.
Good heavens. To sever her lingering attachment so perfectly like this. He would never know.
With what heart she had followed him out of the banquet hall.
What fragile hope had just been shattered beyond repair.
“Can you not answer me at once?”
“If I tell you,” she said, still smiling, “will you believe me this time?”
“What?”
His piercing gaze bore into her.
She had endured that look for years.
Someday—someday those eyes would soften when they looked at her. Someday he would acknowledge that she, too, was his daughter. She had never once doubted it.
There had even been a time when simply sharing the duke’s silver hair—the very mark of Madeleine—had filled her with joy.
Not anymore. This was as far as her efforts would go. At the very end of her devotion, Olivia smiled, pale and bright.
“Then I’ll tell you. I never once whispered to His Highness to ask for my hand. And the one who ignored me—his fianceé—no matter how many years I clung on, and had caused gossip by keeping indiscreet company with Lady Ethel…was His Highness the Crown Prince.”
“Hold your tongue.”
“The one who brought me into this house to send me in Esella’s place as the Crown Prince’s fiancée was you, Duke—”
“Silence!”
His savage roar split the night. Birds startled from the trees in a flurry of wings.
The Duke of Madeleine glared at her as though he had finally lost all reason. The veins in his eyes seemed to burst, staining the violet with red.
“It’s because of you. You. If you—if you had never come into my house, none of this would have happened! You made me miserable. It’s all your fault. All of it.”
Each syllable was heavy with festering rage. He drew harsh, ragged breaths. His hatred was so visceral that there had been times she’d doubted herself—wondered if it truly was her fault.
“Even now. Just like then.”
“……”
“I truly did nothing.”
“……”
“I didn’t make you unhappy, Duke.”
“Olivia Madeleine! How dare you!”
Even at his thunderous fury, Olivia no longer lowered her head. It was strange. The man who had once seemed so towering no longer frightened her. It was time. Truly time to end this.
“……You said you wanted to erase me, didn’t you?”
“If I could, I would erase you from my life.”
Though it had only been days ago, she could still hear his voice, spat through clenched teeth. Words that had once felt like her heart was being torn out now left only a dull ache.
“I feel the same. The name Madeleine attached to me—”
Madeleine.
The surname she had longed for so desperately.
The family she had clung to with all her strength. The ones she had loved unilaterally with her entire life.
And who, in the end, never once turned back to look at her.
Olivia smiled lightly at all those one-sided loves.
“I will erase Madeleine. Every last trace.”
Softly, the thread she alone had been pulling went slack—and snapped.
“Olivia!!”
With the duke’s shout came a flash of killing intent that bore down on her whole body. The oppressive force tightened around her throat, yet Olivia stood straight.
This was what she wanted. The end.
“That’s far enough.”
At that moment, a single set of approaching footsteps cut in.
“If you threaten my precious lady any further, you will make an enemy of all Vikander, Duke.”
The neat, measured voice wrapped warmly around Olivia. The duke ground his teeth.
“……Grand Duke of Vikander…… Your Highness.”
Olivia turned.
Black hair like the feathers of a raven at the bottom of the abyss. Eyes red as glittering rubies. A man burdened with fearsome titles—madman, blood fiend—yet impossibly, dazzlingly handsome.
The expression that never seemed as though it could crack… softened into a sweet smile the moment it met her gaze.
How strange. Not the family she had given everything for, not her fiancé, not a single one of them—
Had ever looked at her like that.
“If your business here is concluded, perhaps you’ll grant me the honor of escorting you home, my lady.”
So gentle.
So sweet.
With the very gaze she had always longed for.
At dawn in the Madelaine estate, voices echoed from the staircase. The sound of the Duke of Madelaine leaving for work.
“Did you sleep well?”
Seizing the moment after he finished speaking with his adjutant, Olivia greeted him. The duke frowned.
She had seen that expression every day for fourteen years, since she was six—but the dull thud in her chest never grew familiar.
A look worse than indifference.
Pretending not to notice, Olivia smiled and held out a tray. As always, a glass of vegetable juice rested on it.
“I made it with vegetables that are good for your arteries—”
Before she could finish, he resumed walking. Sir Huxley, the adjutant following behind, looked more embarrassed than she did and gave a slight bow before trailing after the duke.
Watching his cold retreating figure, Olivia murmured the words she hadn’t managed to say aloud.
Have a safe day. Father.
Another failure. Handing him the vegetable juice she had made for years. Greeting him. Calling him Father.
But perhaps one day she would succeed. That single hope had kept Olivia moving for fourteen years.
Because her mother had said so. If you do your best, someday your wish will come true.
Squaring her shoulders, Olivia lifted her head. The massive portrait hanging in the center of the first-floor hall caught her eye.
Her father seated in a chair. To his right stood the dependable eldest, Conrad, and the second son, Jayde. To his left, the youngest, Esella smiling brightly.
Her own figure stood awkwardly beside Esella. Olivia let out a faint smile. It wasn’t just the slight distance in the painting that made her look so out of place.
Silver hair like spun frost, and gleaming violet eyes—hallmarks of the ancient Madeleine line. Unlike them, her eyes were green.
In high society they called it a disgraceful green, like that of a wandering dancer. But Olivia liked her eyes. They were the only thing she had inherited from her mother.
Still, just a little, she wondered. If her eyes had been violet like Esella’s, would her family have treated her differently?
A flicker of envy passed through Olivia’s green gaze as she looked at Ethella in the portrait.
But she soon shook her head.
The youngest daughter, a perfect image of the former duchess who had once been called the flower of high society, only grew more radiant with each passing day.
Matching eye color alone would never allow her to rival Esella. More than anything, Esella was—
“Sister.1 You’re up already? Where’s Father?”
—sweet and lovable, like that.
At just seventeen, Esella rubbed sleep from her eyes as she descended the stairs. Olivia forced her tone to remain cool.
“……He’s left for work.”
“I came down as soon as I woke up. I’m late again today. Oh, and sister.”
Esella glanced regretfully toward the door before walking over to her.
“I heard there was a really unique and pretty floral decoration at Her Highness the Princess’s tea party. It’s a brand-new design, apparently. But when I heard about it, I felt like I’d seen it somewhere before.”
Her voice turned knowing.
The princess often assigned Olivia tasks. One of them this time had been a new floral design. After days of careful thought, Olivia had created it—and as always, it became a trend under the princess’s name.
It must have been popular if even Esella, who never attended tea parties, had heard about it.
“That one—you had it in your room—”
“Her Highness gave me a few in advance before the tea party. If you like it, I’ll have some sent to your room.”
Olivia answered dryly. The response clearly wasn’t what Esella had expected; her disappointment showed plainly, but Olivia pretended not to notice.
“Thank you. Oh, and—my friend Veronia is hosting a tea party today. Could you come with me? She keeps bragging about her cousin.”
Esella looked at her with sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks. The refusal Olivia had been about to give died on her tongue.
“Uh, I—”
“Esella.”
A gentle voice overlaid Olivia’s. Esella’s eyes lit up as she looked up the stairs. Conrad.
“Brother!”2
She ran to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Conrad hugged her lightly before setting her down, then turned a cool gaze on Olivia.
Olivia knew that look better than anyone. A warning.
Don’t stay close to Esella.
“What were you talking about?” Conrad asked gently.
“I was asking Sister to come to Veronia’s tea party with me.”
“Is that so? But Olivia—it’s Wednesday. Aren’t you leaving yet?”
“Oh, right! It’s today, isn’t it? His Highness the Crown Prince must be waiting!”
Conrad shifted the subject seamlessly. With a reason she couldn’t argue against, Esella nodded.
“You’re right. Thank you, Brother.”
Conrad’s face tightened almost imperceptibly, but Olivia pretended not to see.
She liked the word Brother. It made her feel like part of the family. That tiny thread of connection meant everything.
“Then Sister, next time we’ll definitely go together. I’ll ask you early next time!”
Esella said wistfully. Olivia avoided her gaze. Even if she asked early, they would never go together.
“Wow. You don’t even ask me to go with you, Esella?”
“Pfft. What would I do going with you, Brother? Everyone would just stare at you.”
“Hahaha.” Conrad laughed heartily. As Esella climbed the stairs, she suddenly turned back to Olivia.
“Oh! Sister! You didn’t forget about dinner tonight, right? Have a good day!”
She waved energetically before running up the stairs again. Conrad, following behind, murmured as he passed.
“……Focus on your duties. And don’t even think about getting close to Esella.”
His sharp voice pierced her. Watching his retreating back, Olivia slowly inhaled and exhaled.
It was her method, since she was six years old, of swallowing her hurt.
Usually, it would fade.
But even after returning to her room, the ache lingered.
Olivia opened a drawer. Among the five diaries stacked inside, she pulled out the one she was currently writing in and flipped it open—then let out a small laugh.
“Ah. I finished it.”
Every page was filled to the margin. She slid it back, thinking she would buy another on the way home.
That was when the very first diary, worn from handling, caught her eye. She opened it.
- Today I called Esella carelessly. I was told it was not befitting of a noble. I must fix it. I’ll never do it again. - My table manners were not elegant. Father said it ruined his appetite. I must never do that again. Keep thinking about it, Olivia. Don’t make mistakes. Keep doing your best.
The ink was blurred in places, the paper wrinkled from tears.
Still, this diary had helped her improve. She wrote down every criticism and tried never to repeat the same mistake.
So these stains didn’t matter.
As she skimmed the pages, her hand stopped.
- Perhaps…the very fact that I came here in the first place—
Her very first diary entry, written after much hesitation. The unfinished sentence made Olivia bite the inside of her cheek.
She remembered being six. The year her life changed.
It had all begun with her mother’s death.
Turningbell—the street of vagrants and poverty.
That was where Olivia had been born and raised, with her beautiful mother.
Rats the size of her forearm scurried about, and a single loaf of bread felt like a feast. And yet, Olivia had been happy. Her mother’s songs and dances turned everything into magic.
Happiness slipped out the door when Olivia was six. Her mother collapsed on her way to work. No medicine worked. She only withered day by day.
One afternoon, her mother stared at her for a long moment before taking Olivia’s hand.
It wasn’t the hand she knew. The strong, gentle grip had grown so thin and fragile it felt as though it might crumble in Olivia’s own small grasp.
She had held back for days, but she couldn’t anymore. Olivia burst into tears.
“Liv, my… baby. Why… are you crying… hmm?”
The voice that soothed her broke apart with each word. The mother who had once sung like a canary was barely a shadow now.
Even at that young age, Olivia felt it.
That she might never see her mother again.
It seemed her mother knew it too.
“Liv. Listen carefully now, my baby.”
At the rare firmness in her voice, Olivia quickly wiped her tears and sat close.
“Okay.”
“Soon, your father will come.”
“……Father’s dead.”
“That was a lie. I’m sorry, my baby.”
“……”
“I’m sorry, Liv.”
“No.”
Olivia shook her head. She didn’t fully understand, but there was nothing her mother needed to apologize for. She had been more than happy with just her.
“My baby. There… will be brothers. And sisters. They may find you… unfamiliar. But you understand, don’t you?”
Her mother breathed shallowly, then continued slowly.
“……If you do your best,”
“Everything will come true.”
Olivia answered at once. Her mother’s eyes curved into crescents, as if pleased she’d guessed correctly.
That was her last smile.
A few mornings later, her mother no longer moved.
After the modest funeral, a carriage stood in front of their home—utterly out of place in that street.
A man stood beside it, looking down at Olivia with a cold gaze that made her shrink.
“Judging by the hair color, I suppose she is indeed his daughter.”
Clicking his tongue, he extended a hand toward her. In it was an anklet of thread identical to the one her mother had left her.
“I came upon receiving a letter. Please come with me.”
Footnotes
seulene's thoughts
Honestly just wanted to translate this because I want to. I just really love this story, and I wanted a version with the images that are available too, as well as edited more to make reading through it a little easier.