Chapter 138: The Truth of the Scandal
Even as Nora wept piteously, Aracila felt no sympathy. The frustration and despair Nora had caused her were too deep, and her feeble excuse of having “no choice” only stoked Aracila’s anger further.
She fixed Nora with a cold stare, her voice like ice. “Then I suppose I had no choice either. You’ll have to deal with the consequences on your own.”
“Lady Vandermir!” Nora gasped, her voice trembling.
“I’m curious, though,” Aracila continued. “When my scandal broke, I had nothing to be ashamed of, so those around me stood by me. But you, Lady White—will you be so fortunate?”
Nora was struck speechless, her throat tight as if a blade had pierced her chest. A whirlwind of thoughts swirled through her mind, only to scatter, leaving a single question behind: If a scandal about an affair breaks around me, will my family and Marquis Grant stand by me?
…No.
The answer was clear—they wouldn’t. They’d abandon her without a second thought. From the start, their decision to put her at the forefront of this scheme involving the Crown Prince had been calculated. If it succeeded, great; if it failed, she was expendable.
Confronted with a truth she’d long avoided, Nora’s legs gave out, and she sank to the floor. She was surrounded by cliffs, and any step in any direction would send her plummeting.
“What… what do you want from me?” she asked, her voice barely escaping through clenched teeth. “What do you expect me to do?”
Aracila’s response was calm, almost detached. “You know the answer to that better than anyone.”
Nora’s shoulders flinched, her face hidden by strands of fallen hair, but Aracila could imagine the expression she wore—fearful, cornered.
Nora’s ragged breaths filled the silence as she clenched her fists tightly. Then, with a resolve born of desperation, she spoke, her lips trembling. “You’re right. Someone ordered me to do this, and I followed their instructions.”
The words poured out, a flood of confessions about everything that had happened. A fleeting doubt crossed her mind—Should I really be saying all this?—but once her mouth opened, she couldn’t stop.
Aracila’s brow furrowed as she learned that Marquis Grant was behind Nora. He was Frederick’s uncle, wasn’t he? Why would he orchestrate such a scheme through the White family?
“Do you know why the marquis pressured you into this revenge?” Aracila asked.
“I… I’m not entirely sure,” Nora admitted hesitantly. “But I think it has something to do with His Highness the Crown Prince.”
Aracila’s expression hardened. Connected to Frederick? Did that mean he wasn’t an innocent victim in this, as she had assumed? Her mind spiraled with confusion. She had thought this was the work of Frederick’s enemies, but to think he might be involved…
“Why would Frederick…” she muttered to herself, almost inaudibly.
Even if Frederick had orchestrated the scandal, it made no sense. A scandal with a married woman would damage his reputation as the Crown Prince just as much. Why would he do something so self-destructive? What could he possibly gain?
“Hmm, I think I have an idea,” Nora said cautiously.
Aracila, lost in thought, blinked and responded a beat late. “What?”
Nora hesitated, gauging Aracila’s reaction before continuing. “Maybe… His Highness did it because he has feelings for you.”
“Why would you think that?” Aracila asked, her voice low and measured.
Nora faltered, then answered, “It’s just a feeling I’ve had for a while. Back at the Academy, the way His Highness looked at you sometimes… it was different.”
It was an embarrassing admission, but during their Academy days, Nora had often watched Aracila, driven by a mix of envy and rivalry. Aracila was almost always with Frederick—sometimes with Paula, sometimes not, but Frederick was a constant presence.
One day, Nora had seen it: Frederick shielding the sunlight from Aracila’s face as she slept in the Academy library, sprawled across a table.
Nora, who knew what it was to love someone fervently, recognized the tender, fleeting smile that crossed his lips. It was a private emotion, gone in an instant, but it lingered in her memory, tucked away in a corner of her mind.
“Of course, it’s just my speculation—it might not be true,” Nora added quickly. “But ask others who went to the Academy with you. The closer they were to you, the more likely they noticed it too.”
If Nora, an observer from a distance, had picked up on it, those closer to Aracila and Frederick would likely have seen it as well.
When Nora finished, Aracila stood in silence, her expression grave. Her fingers fidgeted as Nora watched her nervously, then cautiously spoke again. It was time to atone for her wrongs.
“I’m sorry, Lady Vandermir,” she said, her voice trembling. “Even if I was pressured, I caused you great harm. I know you won’t believe me now, but when I said I regretted my past actions toward you, I meant it.”
Tears welled in Nora’s eyes, her voice quivering as she bared her true feelings after months of parroting coerced lies. “While I was locked in my room, I had endless time to reflect. I realized how foolish and stupid it was to hate you.”
She was ashamed of herself for tormenting an innocent person over something as petty as unrequited love. Looking back, there wasn’t a single moment in her past she could recall with pride. She loathed and resented herself for it.
“I shouldn’t have hated you,” Nora continued. “I should have hated Peter for his cruel words, or my parents for planting this inferiority complex in me with their endless comparisons.”
Now, she knew exactly where to direct her anger. And she wanted Aracila to know that too.
“I deeply regret the time I spent hating you so fiercely just because the man I loved didn’t return my feelings.”
She needed her apology to feel as sincere as possible.
Clasping her hands together, Nora bowed deeply to Aracila. “I’m truly sorry. I know this apology can’t erase my sins, but I’m sorry nonetheless.”
Aracila felt no pity for Nora, despite her tearful display. The weight of the despair Nora had inflicted on her was too heavy, and her excuse of having “no choice” only fueled Aracila’s indignation.
She stared at Nora, who gazed back vacantly, and spoke with icy resolve. “Then I’ll consider myself blameless too. You can deal with the fallout on your own.”
“Lady Vandermir!” Nora cried, her voice breaking.
“I’m curious, though,” Aracila continued, her tone unrelenting. “When my scandal broke, I had nothing to be ashamed of, so those around me stood by me. But you, Lady White—will you have the same support?”
Nora was struck mute, her throat constricted as though pierced by a blade. A torrent of thoughts swirled in her mind, only to dissolve, leaving one stark question: If an affair scandal breaks about me, will my family and Marquis Grant stand by me?
No.
The answer was painfully clear—they wouldn’t. They’d discard her without hesitation. From the beginning, their choice to make her the face of a plot involving the Crown Prince had been deliberate. If it succeeded, fine; if it failed, she was expendable.
Facing a truth she’d long avoided, Nora’s strength gave out, and she collapsed to the floor. She was surrounded by precipices, one wrong step away from a fall.
“What… what do you want from me?” she asked, her voice strained and desperate. “What am I supposed to do?”
Aracila’s reply was calm, almost detached. “You know that better than anyone.”
Nora’s shoulders flinched, her face obscured by strands of hair, but Aracila could sense the fear in her expression.
Nora’s breaths came in uneven gasps as she clenched her fists. Then, with a resolute tremor, she spoke. “You’re right. Someone ordered me to do this, and I followed their commands.”
Her words spilled out, a deluge of confessions about everything that had transpired. A fleeting doubt—Should I be saying all this?—crossed her mind, but her lips refused to stop.
Learning that Marquis Grant was behind Nora, Aracila’s brow furrowed. He was Frederick’s uncle, wasn’t he? Why would he use the White family to orchestrate such a scheme?
“Do you know why the marquis pushed you into this revenge?” Aracila asked.
“I… I’m not sure,” Nora admitted hesitantly. “But I think it’s connected to His Highness the Crown Prince.”
Aracila’s expression stiffened. Connected to Frederick? Did that mean he wasn’t simply a victim, as she’d assumed? Her thoughts spiraled. She had believed this was the work of Frederick’s enemies, but if he was involved…
“Why would Frederick…” she murmured, almost to herself.
Even if Frederick had engineered the scandal, it made no sense. A scandal with a married woman would damage his standing as Crown Prince just as much. Why would he do something so self-destructive? What could he gain?
“I think I know why,” Nora said cautiously.
Aracila, lost in thought, blinked. “What?”
Nora hesitated, then ventured, “Maybe… His Highness did it because he has feelings for you.”
“Why would you think that?” Aracila asked, her voice low and steady.
Nora faltered before answering. “It’s just a feeling I’ve had. Back at the Academy, the way His Highness looked at you sometimes… it was different.”
It was an embarrassing admission, but during their Academy days, Nora had often watched Aracila out of envy and rivalry. Aracila was almost always with Frederick—sometimes with Paula, sometimes not, but Frederick was a constant.
One day, Nora had seen it: Frederick shielding Aracila’s sleeping face from the sunlight in the Academy library.
Having known the fervor of unrequited love, Nora recognized the tender smile that briefly crossed his lips. It was fleeting, but the emotion she glimpsed lingered in her memory.
“It’s just my guess, so it might not be true,” Nora added quickly. “But ask others from the Academy. Those closer to you probably noticed it too.”
If Nora, an outsider, had seen it, those nearer to Aracila and Frederick likely had as well.
Aracila stood silent, her expression grave, as Nora fidgeted nervously. Then, with a cautious breath, Nora spoke again, ready to atone.
“I’m sorry, Lady Vandermir,” she said, her voice trembling with sincerity. “Even if I was coerced, I caused you great harm. You may not believe me, but I meant it when I said I regretted my past actions.”
Tears glistened in her eyes, her voice quaking as she finally voiced her true feelings after months of parroting lies. “While locked in my room, I reflected endlessly. I realized how foolish and stupid it was to hate you.”
She was ashamed of tormenting an innocent person over unrequited love. Looking back, not a single moment of her past felt honorable. She despised herself for it.
“I shouldn’t have hated you,” Nora continued. “I should have resented Peter for his cruel words, or my parents for instilling this inferiority complex with their constant comparisons.”
Now, she knew where to direct her anger. She wanted Aracila to know that too.
“I deeply regret the years I spent hating you because the man I loved didn’t love me back.”
Her apology needed to feel genuine. Clasping her hands, Nora bowed deeply. “I’m truly sorry. I know this can’t erase my wrongs, but I’m sorry.”
* * *
Aracila remained silent, her gaze steady on Nora’s tear-streaked face. The moonlight streaming through the window illuminated Nora’s tears, revealing shame, regret, and repentance.
She’s sincerely apologizing.
For the first time, Nora stood before her, raw and unguarded. Aracila spoke slowly. “I understand. From now on, live differently. It’s your life—don’t let others dictate it or waste it hating someone.”
Nora nodded quickly. She had spent her life obeying her parents, and defying them wouldn’t be easy, but she knew she couldn’t continue like this—not for her own future.
“Oh, and—” Aracila paused, then swiftly pulled back the curtain Nora had been about to lift, the one she’d claimed hid a drunken Count Dryde.
Nora’s eyes widened. Behind the curtain were a sofa and a table—but no one was there.
Not a single soul.
“It was just us from the start,” Aracila said. “Count Dryde didn’t even attend the party. His wife couldn’t stand the sight of him.”
Nora’s jaw dropped, stunned into silence.
“If someone had been here, I would’ve suggested we move elsewhere,” Aracila continued. “Even if they were passed out drunk, how could I know they wouldn’t overhear?”
It had all been a ruse to get Nora to talk. Aracila had never intended to frame her with a scandal.
That would be too low.
Nora’s eyes welled with tears of relief, rolling down her cheeks uncontrollably as the weight of her fear lifted.
Aracila stepped closer, her voice calm but firm. “But when the truth of this scandal comes out, your future will still be rocky. That’s the price of what you’ve done. I hope you endure it.”
“I… I’ll try,” Nora replied, her voice thick with resolve, though her tears didn’t stop. Relief, gratitude, and worry mingled, spilling out as sobs.
Leaving Nora to her quiet weeping, Aracila exited the lounge.
She had uncovered the truth she sought, but it brought no satisfaction. The shock of learning her friend was behind the scandal was compounded by the revelation of his hidden feelings.
He has feelings for me.
In the carriage, Aracila sat alone, retracing Frederick’s strange behaviors.
So that’s why…
His cryptic words at her wedding, his overly familiar demeanor in their meetings, his unexplained hostility toward Damian. His insistence on meeting only when Damian wasn’t around, the suggestive remarks and unnecessary touches when others were watching.
It all clicked. Even calling her to the lounge during the Founding Festival had been a calculated move to make it look like a private rendezvous.
Her fist clenched tightly.
Just then, the party ended, and people streamed out. Someone opened the door to Aracila’s carriage without warning and climbed in.
Aracila looked up, unfazed.
“Everything go okay, Aracila?”
It was Paula, her face flushed with anticipation, expecting a tale of Aracila triumphantly putting Nora in her place. But Aracila’s heavy mood caught her off guard, and her expression faltered.
“What’s wrong? Did it not go well?” Paula asked, concern creeping into her voice.
“Paula, be honest with me,” Aracila said, her tone serious.
“Huh?”
“Does Frederick have feelings for me? Romantic ones?”
Paula, who had known Aracila and Frederick longer and more closely than anyone, was sharp and not oblivious to matters of the heart. If Frederick truly harbored such feelings, she would know.
Paula’s face registered surprise, and her lack of an immediate denial spoke volumes. Aracila read the answer in her silence.
“So you knew,” she said softly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s not like Frederick confessed to you,” Paula replied, her expression apologetic. “How could I go around spreading my guesses about his feelings?”
Her reasoning was sound, and Aracila couldn’t argue. Paula hadn’t done anything wrong by staying silent, nor was there anything to reproach her for.
“But how did you suddenly figure it out?” Paula asked.
Aracila’s face darkened. “I think Frederick might be behind this scandal.”
“What? Seriously?” Paula’s eyes widened in shock.
Aracila nodded gravely. “I need to confirm it, but I’m almost certain.”
“Good gods, what has Frederick done…” Paula muttered, recalling how erratic he’d been lately—his blatant hostility toward Damian during a hospital visit, his emotions growing increasingly unhinged.
She had even warned Aracila about him, but to no avail. For him to orchestrate a scandal himself, with the apparent intent of ruining Aracila’s marriage, was unthinkable.
Paula fell silent, worry etching her face, as a heavy stillness settled over the carriage. Aracila’s thoughts churned.
I need to meet Frederick.
She needed to confront him, to hear his side. With so much still unclear, she wanted answers directly from him. After all, they had been friends for seven years.
Turning to gaze out the window, her expression grew cold. The twinkling lights of the city streets were far less chaotic than the storm in her heart.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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