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However, since the concept of a 'name' is closer to emotion and fantasy than to reality or reason, I had no choice but to push forward in this manner.
'In the first place, I don't even know why Raymond's name manifested in me. Was it perhaps just a device to provide adversity for the original Stella?'
It wasn't easy to accept the fact that my entire life—even the most special moments of it—was merely a stepping stone for the 'protagonist.'
But I felt fortunate that I had realized this reality before it was too late.
If I had continued to obsess over Raymond and poured my entire life into him using the name as an excuse, my future would have undoubtedly followed the path of the original story.
Therefore, I felt a certain sense of gratitude toward whatever existence it was—be it a god or an author.
Though they had bestowed such a fate upon me, they had simultaneously allowed me to remember the original plot.
'Thanks to that, I don't even have to fake my emotions with acting, so I'll count today as double the gratitude.'
I overlapped my remaining hand over Yulan's, as if in prayer.
Holding his hand to my lips, I lowered my eyes slightly and confessed.
"When I told Father that my name had been erased, there was something I lied about."
"……Oh, Yevgenia."
Shocked, my father stroked his cheek with one hand and covered his mouth.
He seemed quite startled, but I couldn't stop here.
"Actually…… the day before, I met Yul."
"……."
"All the effort I've put in until now has become completely useless. That crazy Raymond—"
"Yevgenia."
"I'm sorry. Anyway, that bastard Raymond takes my efforts for granted, and he's spouting nonsense about making Young Lady Aer's child the successor of House Martyr."
As I continued, harsh words naturally spilled out, and this time my father didn't speak, but warned me with a look.
I swallowed hard, suppressing the aggressive language and any potential nonsense that might slip out.
Only after calming my emotions could I continue.
"Phew……. When he acts like that, how can I be expected to endure and try any harder?"
"So you…… went to meet a man?"
"Why shouldn't I? That bastard is brazenly bragging about keeping a concubine even after entering as a son-in-law."
"Even so, to retaliate in such a way……."
"Father."
I cut him off before he could launch into a lecture, pressing down on his still-furrowed brow.
As I firmly interrupted him, my father crossed his arms and leaned back, as if daring me to offer an excuse if I had one.
Thus, with an even more confident attitude, I leaned toward Yulan and spoke.
"I at least tried to follow the will of the family. I did my best, even abandoning my own love. But that bastard has nothing but his bloodline, yet he doesn't even put in any effort."
"Hah……."
"But Yul is different. He waited for me for years, looked only at me, and even gathered the courage to come see me like this. Despite the risk of his own death, he did it solely because he wanted me to be happy……."
My voice trailed off as I repeatedly caressed Yulan's hand.
At that, my father let out a series of loud, artificial coughs.
However, I completely ignored his discomfort and acted as if we were lost in a world of our own.
Because that is exactly how Stella and Raymond would have been.
'I'm sorry, Father. Out of all the lovey-dovey couples I know, they left the strongest impression.'
For now.
Perhaps, unless someone miraculously appears in the future, I might continue to break my father's heart.
But it was better than seeing me live in agony—the same as or even worse than in the original story—while racing toward a marriage with Raymond.
With that mindset, I resolutely turned my gaze away and focused on the act.
Before long, unable to endure the performance by Yulan and me, my father was the first to break the atmosphere.
"Yevgenia, you know that I truly love you."
"Of course, Father."
I answered obediently, but a sense of anxiety began to creep up.
Because when my father—of all people—started with such gentle words, it usually meant that the words following them would be incredibly harsh.
Indeed, my father did not betray my expectations—or rather, my fears.
"And you must also know that you are the one who has benefited the most from the power of that bloodline."
"……Yes."
"You are the most noble woman in this Empire. I pride myself on having raised you to ensure you never forget that fact."
In an instant, I unconsciously glanced at Yulan.
Even for a Chancellor and a Duke, saying such things while an Empress was perfectly well-established was a matter that could lead to serious trouble.
It was even more problematic given that the 'screen' in this carriage was one of the few remaining members of the Imperial Family in this Empire.
It wouldn't have been strange if he had jumped up right then and there to perform a sword dance for the crime of insult.
'The current Empress is a stepmother, but…… one can never know the inner workings of the Imperial Family.'
I stole glances at him while waiting for my father's next words.
My mind was a complete mess, mixing the rebellion Yulan had previously shown toward the Emperor with the serious expression my father was currently wearing.
Nevertheless, I had to show that I was fully immersed in the situation.
I obediently lowered my eyes and gripped Yulan's hand tightly.
I was worried that he might suddenly jump up and slice my father's throat.
"If you call the waste of time you've engaged in until now—behavior that is, in a word, nothing more than trash—'effort,' then I can only be deeply disappointed."
Thump.
I felt my heart physically shake.
'What? Where did I go wrong? Was the problem that I didn't receive successor training after all? I thought he'd let it slide if I said I lived thinking I'd marry Raymond……!'
Actually, although I had tried to gloss over it by appealing to emotion, the fact that I hadn't received any successor lessons until now was a very large problem.
Usually, young ladies in situations similar to 'Yevgenia' married the second or third sons of families higher than their own, so there was a strong sense of 'why bother?'
In essence, they were selling their family name to purchase connections with high-ranking nobles…….
'That didn't apply to me. Ah, damn it!'
What if 'Yevgenia' had remembered the original story before she rebelled so violently, or at least before entering the Academy?
'I would have been studying to be a successor instead of wasting time on this futile acting.'
I could never understand—even if I died twice—the heart that was so crazed for a man that it would hand over the entire family.
But regrets and anger toward 'Yevgenia' could wait; for now, I had to unravel my father's cryptic criticism.
Just as I realized I had passed the timing for a natural response—
"It is all my fault, Your Grace!"
My body was suddenly pulled, and my vision went dark.
Yulan's cedarwood scent filled the depths of my lungs.
Tightly embraced in his arms, my eyes widened and looked upward instinctively.
'Wait, why is he suddenly doing this when he was staying quiet?'
Because I was held so tightly that all I could see was his chin, I had no idea what he was thinking when he suddenly intervened.
I suppose blood will be blood.
Fortunately, my father stepped in before I lost my patience and flipped the entire table.
"Where did you learn the etiquette of interrupting a conversation between nobles? Surely all the commoners who learned such etiquette must have died, leaving no one to teach it……."
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