Chapter 28
Duke Wilde's funeral was held in an atmosphere befitting his status, yet one that couldn't conceal its somberness. Emperor Lucien sent a representative according to protocol and issued a decree to bestow upon him the appropriate honors, but did not attend in person. To the outside world, this marked the complete end of an era of illustrious old nobility.
However, deep within the Royal Palace of Korovia, the file concerning Serena Wilde was not sealed away despite the Duke's death and her confirmed "death."
Lucien's study remained absolutely quiet and orderly. He sat behind his desk, the dark crown on his forehead gleaming faintly under the ever-burning candlelight. The chief intelligence officer stood silently to the side, waiting.
"Is the Duke of Wilder's funeral over?" Lucien asked, his voice steady, revealing no emotion whatsoever at the passing of this old minister.
“Yes, Your Majesty. Everything will be done as you command.” The steward bowed in response.
Lucien's fingertips unconsciously traced the smooth wood grain of the tabletop, his gaze fixed on a point in the void. "Regarding that shipwreck," he suddenly changed the subject, his tone still calm, "I'll give you another report on the details."
The steward, seemingly prepared, smoothly repeated: "The merchant ship 'Song of the Siren' sank in a severe storm off the coast of Creed. Nine survivors were rescued. An identification mark matching Miss Wilde's features—the Norton family crest—was found among the victims' remains. Local officials have handled the matter according to procedure."
“The mark,” Lucien repeated the word, his deep purple eyes narrowing slightly. “How was it discovered? By whom? Under what circumstances was it confirmed to belong to her?”
The steward paused slightly, realizing that the Emperor's focus was different from before. "Your Majesty," he said, "according to a copy of the documents provided by the Free Port, the badge was discovered by the local coroner while cleaning the body of a young female victim. The clothing worn by the body matched the description given when Miss Wilde was last seen in Losca Harbor. Upon discovery, it was recorded as key evidence to confirm her identity."
“The case file records that the body was handled according to ‘customary practice’.” Lucien’s voice lowered. “What is the ‘customary practice’ of the Glass Islands?”
"Usually... it's a mass sea burial, or, if unclaimed and in poor condition, burial on-site," the steward replied more cautiously.
"In other words, there is no possibility of verifying my identity again," Lucien stated.
“Yes, Your Majesty. It has been a long time, and…” The steward didn’t finish his sentence, but the meaning was clear: under those circumstances, it would be difficult to preserve the body intact.
A hush fell over the study. The flickering candlelight cast dappled shadows on Lucien's face.
That's too... logical.
A storm, a shipwreck, a family crest appearing at just the right moment, a body matching the description—then all traces are swiftly and "reasonably" erased. Like a meticulously crafted drama, every element fits perfectly, pointing to the same ending.
He knew Serena Wilde. She might have been impulsive, or perhaps naive, but after her imprisonment at Sunset Manor and subsequent escape, she displayed a resilience and resourcefulness far beyond that of ordinary people. Could such a person so easily and effortlessly perish at sea, leaving not even a trace to follow?
That badge, which she had cherished so much and worn close to her body, why wasn't it lost amidst the chaos and struggle of the shipwreck? Instead, why was it so "coincidentally" found on her remains, becoming irrefutable evidence of her identity?
A cold, venomous doubt began to swirl in his mind.
He raised his eyes and looked at the chief intelligence officer, his gaze so sharp it seemed to pierce through his soul.
“Send people to the Crystal Islands,” his voice was low but carried an undeniable chill, “not through official channels. Use the most discreet people to reinvestigate every survivor of the ‘Song of the Siren,’ especially… those who appeared in Freeport after the shipwreck and whose identities or backgrounds are unclear. Focus on investigating whether there are any young women whose figures and appearances resemble hers, or whose behavior is unusual.”
He paused, then added, each word as if pulled from an icebox: "Don't alert anyone. I need to know who died in that shipwreck."
The steward felt a chill run down his spine and bowed his head deeply: "Yes, Your Majesty."
Lucien waved his hand, signaling him to step back.
When the study door closed again, leaving him alone, Lucien slowly leaned back in his chair, his fingertips lightly tapping the armrest.
The funeral bells of Duke Wilde still seemed to echo over Roconia, but for Serena, those heavy tones were no longer a mournful elegy, but a war drum urging her to battle. The cold touch of her father's hand and that indistinct "baby" were deeply imprinted on her soul, burning away all hesitation and cowardice.
Hiding? Like a rat in the gutter, living in constant fear under the shadow of the empire, trembling at the slightest disturbance, forever living behind the identity of "Liana" or some other false identity? No. This was no longer the life she wanted. The immense grief brought by her father's death acted like a powerful remedy, making her more clear-headed and resolute than ever before.
In the noisy little hotel room in the Lycaste district, she stood by the window, gazing at the gray sky of the capital, her eyes sharp as a newly forged blade.
“Mara,” her voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable strength, “I don’t want to hide anymore.”
Mara stood behind her, listening silently. She saw the burning in Serena's eyes—no longer the fear or confusion of a fugitive, but a resolute determination to burn her bridges.
“The shipwreck trick can’t be hidden for long.” Serena turned around, her eyes burning. “Lucien isn’t a fool. As long as he becomes even slightly suspicious, it won’t be difficult for him to investigate the survivors of Freeport and find the woman 'Liana,' who appeared out of nowhere and whose figure resembles that of the 'Serena' who perished in the shipwreck. Hiding can only buy time; it won’t solve the fundamental problem.”
She took a deep breath and made that earth-shattering decision: "I'm going back. Not as the maid Lina, nor as the merchant Io. I'm going back to the Duke of Wilde's mansion as Celine Wilde, the sole rightful heir to the Duke of Wilde's title."
Mara's pupils contracted slightly. This plan was audacious to the point of madness. It was tantamount to walking right under Lucien's nose, exposing herself to the sunlight, or even... voluntarily walking into the entrance of the cage he had built for her.
“You know what this means,” Mara said in a low voice. “It’s like telling him directly that you’re still alive and that you’re no longer running away. How will he react? Nobody can predict. This is more dangerous than any previous escape.”
“I know.” Serena’s lips even curled into a cold smile. “But this is the only way for me to truly ‘live.’ By inheriting the title, I can regain my identity, gain a certain amount of power and protection. At least legally, he cannot arbitrarily dispose of a hereditary duke. This is much safer than being a nameless fugitive who could be quietly erased at any time.”
She walked to the center of the room, her steps firm: "Hiding is a lifetime, facing him is also a lifetime. So I'd rather choose the latter. I don't want to live the rest of my life in fear of the past and uncertainty about the future. I want to take back everything that belongs to me, including my name, my identity, and my... right to face him."
Her gaze fell on Mara, pleading but with an unwavering resolve: "This needs your help, Mara. But if you feel it's too dangerous, you can leave. You've already done enough for me."
Mara gazed at her for a long time. The woman before her was no longer the delicate young lady she had to rescue from the dungeon, nor the fugitive who had stumbled along with her in the Black Forest. Now, she was a warrior with her own will and edge.
Finally, Mara nodded slowly and very solemnly.
“I’ll stay,” she answered simply and decisively. “But this time, we have no way out.”
A hint of relief flashed in Serena's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by an even stronger determination.
“Then let us,” she said, looking out the window toward the Duke of Wilde’s mansion, as if she could see through the buildings to the residence she was about to return to, and the person in the palace further away, “begin preparations. It’s time to bring 'Serena Wilde'... back to life.”
The Duke of Wilde's mansion is now shrouded in the solemnity of his recent death and the undercurrents of power vacuum within. Servants whisper among themselves, lower-ranking stewards probe each other, and several distant relatives have already begun to express their "concern" about the succession to the title through various channels to the Senate and the court.
Amidst this chaos and uncertainty, a piece of news exploded like a thunderclap.
A woman who identified herself as Miss Serena Wilde appeared at the gates of Duke Wilde's mansion, accompanied by a stern-faced female companion. She was dressed in a well-tailored but understated dark travel outfit, looking travel-worn. Although her face showed fatigue and sorrow, she stood tall, and her clear and firm blue eyes looked directly at the current head butler who had rushed over upon hearing the news, looking surprised and uncertain.
“I am Serena Wilde,” her voice was clear and carried an unquestionable aristocratic accent, echoing in the suddenly deathly silent hallway. “I have returned to fulfill my duty as the sole legitimate heir of the Wilde family.”
The head butler stared in disbelief, almost unable to believe his eyes and ears. This young lady… hadn't she already been confirmed dead in the shipwreck? That family crest… that funeral…
However, the person before her, though thinner and more mature than she remembered, bore a striking resemblance to the deceased Duchess, especially in her eyes and features. Moreover, she possessed an air of refinement born of hardship, something no ordinary imposter could fake.
“Miss…?” The head butler’s voice was hoarse. “This…how is this possible? We received news that you were already…”
“Survived the shipwreck,” Serena replied calmly, “and was stranded in a foreign land, enduring great hardship to return. I’ll explain the details later. Now, I need to go home to handle my father’s funeral arrangements and finalize the inheritance matters.”
Her composed demeanor, exuding an innate noble air, instantly commanded respect. The head steward dared not be negligent, much less refuse entry to this young lady, who was very likely the real person, in front of everyone. He could only bow and invite her and Mara into the mansion.
The news spread like wildfire. The news that Duchess Wilde had come back from the dead, returned to the manor, and claimed to have inherited the title spread throughout the noble circles of Rokonia at an astonishing speed, causing a huge shock and countless speculations.
Inside the royal study, Lucien received the report from the chief intelligence officer almost immediately.
"...She made a public appearance, entered the Duke of Wilde's mansion, claimed to be a survivor of the shipwreck, and demanded to inherit the title." The steward's tone was heavy with disbelief.
In the candlelight, Lucien's face was expressionless, except for his deep purple eyes, which instantly turned as cold as polar ice, sharp enough to pierce the soul. He lightly tapped his fingertip on the table.
really.
That shipwreck, that perfectly placed badge—it was a meticulously planned escape.
"Is it really her?" Lucien's voice was low and steady, revealing no emotion.
"Her appearance, demeanor, and mannerisms... all match the information we have perfectly. Moreover, the fact that she dared to show herself directly suggests that if she isn't the real Miss Wilde, then she must have made extremely meticulous arrangements and have a backup plan," the steward replied cautiously.
Lucien was silent for a moment. He imagined her standing before the Duke of Wilde's mansion, facing all the astonished and suspicious gazes, boldly announcing her identity. That courage…
"Keep an eye on her." Finally, he gave the order, his voice carrying a cold, almost chilling calm. "As for the Senate, regarding the dispute over the succession to the title of Lord Wilde, proceed according to the normal procedures. No need to interfere, and no need for... special treatment."
He wanted to see what this bird, which dared to fly back, was planning to do, and how far it could go.
"Yes, Your Majesty." The chief steward acknowledged the order and quietly withdrew.
Silence returned to the study. Lucien slowly stood up, walked to the window, and gazed at the myriad lights of the capital city under the night sky, a faint yet icy smile curving his lips.
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