Chapter 79: The Hollow Truth
Nora’s eyes flickered, unstable and unsure. Her shoulders hunched as she suddenly shoved Aracila back and snapped viciously:
“What exactly is it you want to ask?”
“I’ve been wondering this for a while,” Aracila said, unruffled. “This year was the first time we’ve had an actual conversation. But you talk as if we’ve had some longstanding connection. That’s always puzzled me.”
Before marriage, when they met at the Vandemir estate, Aracila hadn’t even recognized her. That’s how unfamiliar they were.
Of course, since their families had been in political rivalry, it was possible for Nora to recognize Aracila on her own—but the things she had said went far beyond mere familiarity.
“Did you bump into me on purpose?”
“Sorry, I couldn’t even see you in my field of vision.”
“Tch…! Did you just say that out loud? You’re always after the man I like!”
Nora had spoken as if Aracila had stolen her man before—as if this had happened before Damian.
To Aracila, who had no dating experience and was newly married, this had always been an irritating and incomprehensible accusation.
“When exactly have I ever ‘bumped into’ you, Lady White?”
“…Do you truly not remember, or are you just pretending?”
“It’s not a matter of forgetting. I don’t have a single memory involving you, Lady White.”
At that, Nora gave a hollow laugh, her pride clearly wounded as she glared at Aracila.
“You were like this at the academy too!”
“Was I?”
“Yes!”
Nora’s eyes, dark with hatred and inferiority, turned toward the past.
Back in the academy, she had harbored a six-year-long crush on a male student.
Peter Lupin.
She had met him by chance at a childhood tea party and had fallen for him at first sight.
But Peter had never shown any interest in her—especially not when she was slightly chubby as a child. Though she had longed to become engaged to him, her proposals were repeatedly rejected by the Lupin marquessate.
Still, she had refused to give up. She tried everything to catch his eye, molding her appearance to fit his tastes.
When they both entered the academy, she began baking him cookies every day, delivering them personally along with handwritten letters.
Peter would take the cookies and share them with his friends without a second thought. As for the letters—he barely skimmed them before tossing them away.
Once, Nora found one of her carefully written letters trampled like trash on the ground. The sight had nearly brought her to tears, but she forced herself to endure.
After that, she stopped hiding letters inside the cookies. It seemed Peter didn’t like them.
Throughout her academy years, Nora had one goal: to become Peter Lupin’s fiancée by graduation, and marry him before she turned twenty.
But her first love—her unrequited love—was shattered when Peter fell completely for a new first-year student: Aracila Hugo.
‘Hey, can you stop bothering me now? I’ve got someone I like.’
‘W-who is it? Someone better than me?’
‘I don’t know about her personality, but she’s way prettier than you. Not even close.’
Those words crushed Nora—who had been starving herself, shaping every inch of her appearance to appeal to him.
And when she learned that the girl Peter liked was Aracila Hugo, she went to find her.
She spotted Aracila strolling across the campus lawn under the golden sunlight. At that moment, she had muttered under her breath:
“She’s beautiful.”
A beauty so natural, so effortless, unlike Nora’s own agonizing struggle.
And that’s when the black emotions began to stir.
Ugly envy. Suffocating inferiority.
Yet even then, she couldn’t give up on Peter Lupin. She clung to him, pathetically.
‘What do I lack compared to Lady Hugo?!’
‘What don’t you lack? From head to toe, it’s everything.’
“Your whole family’s been beneath House Hugo from the start. Isn’t it only natural someone would prefer Aracila over you?”
Peter Lupin’s words had pierced Nora’s heart like a dagger—and the wound had never fully closed.
She could still remember him gently patting her trembling shoulder as she cried.
“Hey… I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. Lady Hugo showed interest in me too. We just clicked. How could I not go for it?”
“Thanks for all the cookies. They were really good. Could you bake them for me one more time? I want Lady Hugo to try them.”
Like a fool, Nora baked for him one more time.
Peter took the cookies and confessed to Aracila—but she rejected him publicly, right in the academy hallway, with everyone watching.
When Nora heard the news, she didn’t feel vindicated. She was furious.
Everyone at the academy already knew she liked Peter. So how could Aracila go and lure him in, only to throw him away when he came?
It infuriated her—the shamelessness, the cruelty.
Peter, humiliated, went around bitterly spreading the claim that “Aracila Hugo deliberately seduced me to push Nora White aside.”
To most, it sounded like the pathetic excuse of a rejected man—but considering the long-standing rivalry between the two noble houses, some found it plausible.
And for Nora, who had grown up hearing the same refrain her entire life, it fit perfectly.
“Listen, Nora. No matter what happens, never lose to those Hugo girls. If you do, it’s a disgrace to this family—a disgrace!”
“They’re trying to beat you like their lives depend on it, so you better fight back just as hard! Sleep less, eat less, understand?”
She’d grown up breathing those words, shaped by them. So yes, to her, Peter’s accusation made sense.
With that memory lodged in her chest, seven years had passed.
While Aracila devoted herself to her work at the Mage Tower, Nora trained herself to become a dignified noblewoman—elegant and refined.
While others were learning etiquette and preparing for marriage, Aracila had been running around, dreaming of becoming Master of the Mage Tower. Nora had found it foolish, ridiculous.
And part of her had felt reassured.
Her competitor had taken herself out of the game. As they aged, Nora was confident she’d rise to dominate the social scene and be the clear winner.
When Aracila publicly declared she would never marry, Nora’s confidence became certainty.
But then, out of nowhere, Aracila changed her mind—and married Damian Vandemir.
Everything shifted.
Once again, Aracila had taken what Nora had longed for.
And the moment she realized that, Nora couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“You did it again, didn’t you? Just like with Lupin. You approached Lord Vandemir on purpose, didn’t you?”
Nora demanded the question with near-certainty, her voice trembling with years of layered emotion.
Aracila regarded her with a quiet, unreadable expression. There was a trace of pity in her gaze—or perhaps a soft, mournful sorrow.
She let out a faint sigh and murmured,
“So that’s what this has been.”
“…What do you mean?”
“You’ve spent all these years resenting me… over some man?”
Aracila had expected, on some level, that Nora’s hatred might stem from something deeper—some meaningful reason.
Instead, all of it—all of it—had come down to a man.
She felt hollow, almost disappointed.
To be honest, Aracila couldn’t even remember who Peter Lupin was. The academy years were a blur, and her first year as a new student even more so.
But there was one thing she could say with complete certainty.
“I never showed any interest in that Lord Lupin person. And honestly, who you had a crush on—what does that have to do with me?”
“…I was obsessed with magic during my academy years. I didn’t care about you, or any other man, for that matter.”
What she meant was simple: Peter Lupin had liked Aracila completely on his own.
Nora’s face turned pale as the truth finally hit.
She had spent seven years hating Aracila—based solely on Peter Lupin’s claim that Aracila had approached him on purpose.
And now, to learn it had all been a lie? It felt like a third of her life had just been denied. Desperate, Nora shook her head violently.
“Don’t lie! You think I’d just believe whatever you say?!”
“Our house never really paid attention to the White Marquessate. I was never told to compete with any of you. Not once.”
“….”
“You loved Damian. You hated me. But none of it ever had anything to do with us. It was all one-sided. All of it—ugly feelings you let grow on your own.”
It felt like everything that had kept her standing was now crumbling away. Nora slowly collapsed where she stood.
She was so numb, she couldn’t even cry.
Aracila lightly patted her shoulder—whether it was meant as comfort or something else was unclear—and offered a casual remark:
“Still… you’ve gotten better at picking men.”
“….”
“Damian’s far better than Lord Lupin, just by the sound of it.”
But neither of them had ever returned her feelings.
That, too, was the same.
Nora’s eyes grew even emptier.
She remained there, motionless, until her maid rushed in and helped her to her feet.
***
The next morning, Nora White’s public confession made headlines in every major newspaper.
The story—that she had pursued a married man and harassed his wife—sparked public outrage.
The recent success of The Lady of the Yellow Rose, an opera about a home-wrecking woman punished for her envy, had already shifted social sentiment. Public sympathy had grown colder toward those who entertained feelings for the married.
And like the satisfying end of that opera, people now wanted to see Nora punished.
“She needs to be so disgraced she can never show her face again! She nearly destroyed a decent household!”
“Exactly! Make her a lesson. If we don’t stamp this out, more will follow.”
“Down with Nora White! Let the White Marquessate take responsibility!”
Naturally, her reputation in society plummeted.
Branded as someone who fell for a married man, her social club collapsed, and she became rapidly isolated from the aristocracy.
What made things worse was the presence of the Duchess of Keyston—who had suffered for years because of her husband’s affair—during Nora’s confession.
The duchess, incensed, announced she would sever ties with anyone who continued to associate with Nora White.
And as the queen of society and a royal by blood, no one dared defy her.
Nora’s only remaining hope was that her family, the White Marquessate, had ties to the prestigious House of Leicester.
But even the Duchess of Leicester—herself a married woman—chose sympathy for Aracila.
“She really needs to be re-educated,” she remarked. “To see such disgraceful habits in a young lady who hasn’t even married yet…”
And with that, even Nora’s final support disappeared.
Her own family didn’t spare her.
“You’ve shamed our entire house, Nora! How am I supposed to show my face in society now? People will point at me and say I’m your mother!”
“Have you lost your mind, child?! What kind of girl stands in front of people and shouts about her love for another woman’s husband?!”
Nora stood there in silence, like a criminal on trial. Not because she had nothing to say—but because there was nothing left to defend.
She had ruined herself. With her own blind love, she had destroyed her reputation, her future, and her family’s honor.
“You’re grounded! No—banned from going out indefinitely! You won’t leave this house until you’ve agreed to marry the man I choose!”
“F-Father, you can’t be serious—!”
“Silence! You’re the disgrace of this family! What did you even teach her?!” the Marquess roared, turning his fury on his wife before storming out.
The Marchioness, wiping her tears with a handkerchief, glared coldly at Nora and said,
“While you’re in your room, you’ll be copying out ‘101 Virtues of a Proper Lady’ by hand. Understood?”
She didn’t wait for a reply.
Nora lowered her head, her face full of despair.
Her confession to Damian had become a permanent stain. The life she had dreamed of—as a flawless noblewoman adored by all—was lost forever.
All that remained was darkness.
And waiting at the end of it was a hell forged by her own jealousy and inferiority.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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