Chapter 8: 8
“Your Highness, I have brought the members of the Raspede Marquis family.”
Arriving in front of the reception room, the attendant knocked on the door and announced it.
From inside, there was a loud clatter, followed by hurried footsteps, and then the door was flung open.
“Bertille!”
The voice was desperate.
Startled by the suddenness, Bertille widened her eyes and her shoulders jerked.
Then she recalled that something similar had happened at the marquis house as well.
A prince with golden hair and blue eyes, perfectly embodying royal traits, and blessed with extraordinary beauty.
Her fiancé, Eustache Justorne, was as beautiful as ever.
When Eustache firmly confirmed Bertille with his blue eyes, his expression softened with genuine joy from the bottom of his heart.
As if her brothers were not even in his sight, he looked only at Bertille, took her hand, and spoke gently.
“It’s been a while. Are you feeling better now?”
“Yes.”
With a short, indifferent reply, Bertille pulled her hand away from his grasp.
He showed a hurt expression, but Bertille paid it no mind and stepped into the reception room with a quiet, “Excuse me.”
Her gaze then swept across the table.
(Of course.)
As expected in a sense, everything prepared there consisted of Minori’s favorites.
To him, these were what Bertille liked.
“We greet His Highness the Prince.”
“Mm.”
Her brothers exchanged greetings with Eustache.
No one directed any criticism at Bertille, likely because they were reading the atmosphere.
Everyone understood that reprimanding her here would lead to nothing good.
Across the table, there were two three-seater sofas facing each other.
Not wanting to sit beside anyone, Bertille took the single large armchair placed nearby.
Bertille had come to the palace to meet both Eustache and Minori.
Yet the other person who mattered most was not present.
She had assumed the two would be waiting together, but her expectation had been wrong.
Eustache and her brothers also took their seats.
The attendant seemed to be waiting outside.
The brothers were forced to sit together as three men, and while nothing could be read from Leandre’s expression, the twins seemed somewhat uncomfortable.
It was quite a rare sight.
“Where is the otherworlder?”
“…She should be here soon.”
Eustache answered after a brief pause, giving off a slightly awkward air.
“I heard you were together just moments ago.”
“It wasn’t just the two of us! My parents and the Duke of Hubert were there as well!”
“I am aware. Why are you so flustered?”
His attitude resembled that of a man trying to explain himself when accused of infidelity.
Though Bertille understood his feelings, she deliberately smiled gently.
Eustache seemed to realize he had overreacted and averted his gaze, murmuring, “Ah, no…” before falling silent.
As Bertille observed him closely, Tristan spoke up.
“Don’t be disrespectful to His Highness.”
“Disrespectful? Over something like this?”
When she looked at him as if to say, who are you to talk, Tristan faltered.
“If you intend to interfere, you may leave. You came along uninvited, after all.”
Perhaps hurt by her cold dismissal, Tristan turned his face away.
From this exchange alone, it must have become clear to them that Bertille held no goodwill toward anyone.
Breaking the silence was Eustache, his face serious.
“Bertille, I heard you regained your memories of the past. It’s only natural that you would hate me. As your fiancé… no, as a person, I did unforgivable things to you.”
“Despite being aware of that, when your fiancée lost her memory, you conveniently acted as though all those inconvenient matters had vanished, pretending to be a devoted and gentle man in love. Ah, you only became aware of your wrongdoing after you developed feelings, didn’t you?”
“…I’m sorry.”
Accepting her condemnation sincerely, Eustache bowed his head in anguish.
A prince bowing his head was also a rare sight.
Yet it brought her no sense of relief.
She felt no value in that apology.
She had wanted to hear it much earlier, before her heart had broken.
She had wanted him to change.
There were other things she had wanted him to realize as well.
“It’s too late… all of it.”
Bertille murmured softly.
Eustache did not seem to catch it and raised his head, his blue eyes meeting hers with a question—and a trace of unease.
She had once dreamed of warmth filling those eyes.
She had wished for him to look at her kindly.
In the end, that wish had never come true.
The one who had obtained it was not Bertille, but someone else.
A knock echoed through the room.
Everyone’s attention turned toward the door.
“Lady Minori has arrived.”
“Let her in.”
At Eustache’s permission, a woman entered the room.
With dark brown hair close to black and eyes of the same color, she looked visibly tense.
She wore a dress of this country, likely prepared by Eustache or the queen.
Though she had a youthful face that made her seem younger, she was supposed to be one year older than Bertille.
When Minori’s eyes met Bertille’s, they widened slightly.
Noticing that subtle change, Bertille smiled.
“It’s our first meeting, isn’t it, Miss Minori?”
“…Nice to meet you.”
From that reaction, she was certain.
Minori retained the memories of the six months she had lived as Bertille.
And yet, she had told no one about it.
“Please, have a seat.”
Though she was invited, Minori glanced at the only available seat—the one beside Eustache—and lowered her brows awkwardly.
“Um…”
“I’ll have a chair brought in.”
“That won’t be necessary. Why not sit beside His Highness? I don’t mind.”
Rejecting Eustache’s suggestion, Bertille urged Minori again.
Perhaps deciding that refusing further would be impolite, Minori hesitantly sat at the edge of the sofa.
In her memories, she had been more composed, but in this situation, her nervousness and unease seemed to prevail.
After a moment of hesitation, Minori seemed to gather her resolve and looked straight at Bertille.
“Um, Lady Bertille… you came because of the rumors, right? His Highness has treated me well, but I—”
“You did not inherit my memories, did you?”
“…Huh?”
“But strangely enough, I have retained yours.”
“!!”
Minori’s eyes widened in shock.
It must have been a tremendous revelation.
“You suddenly became someone else in an unfamiliar world. You must have been very surprised. That is only natural. And yet, under such circumstances, you managed quite well. The people who held hostility toward Bertille Raspede were so easily won over, after all.”
“Bertille, what are you talking about?”
Since the conversation excluded everyone except Bertille and Minori, the men were all confused, and Tristan finally interrupted, unable to hold back any longer.
“For the past six months, I was not suffering from amnesia. It would be more accurate to say that I was asleep.”
“…I don’t get it.”
“The ‘Bertille with amnesia’… was her.”