HPDBC Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Five Years Ago
When the youngest prince, Tristan, approached adulthood, the royal couple began searching for a fiefdom to grant their son. This is when they discovered the tranquil but heirless land of Blue Atrium.
However, the lord of Blue Atrium wasn’t about to give up so easily. He decided to stake everything on a desperate gamble: claiming that an illegitimate child he fathered with a maid long ago was actually a legitimate heir.
Look at this scumbag. He knocked up a maid, tossed her out after she gave birth, and now, 17 years later, he wants to drag the kid back? Honestly, guys like this deserve to be tied to electric scooters and dragged through Gwanghwamun—
Deep breaths. Focus. There’s no Gwanghwamun here.
After a frantic search, the lord eventually located his 17-year-old son, who was eking out a living as a mercenary. That boy was none other than Richard Ray, now known simply as Rick.
Naturally, the boy rebelled, wondering what kind of nonsense this was. But the offer to inherit an entire fiefdom? That was too sweet to pass up.
And so began the gamble of a lifetime between the lord and his newfound son.
The first step? The boy suing his father for legal recognition as his heir.
Of course, it was all staged. The lord lined up witnesses who’d perjure themselves to confirm that “Yes, Richard is the legitimate son of the lord and lady.”
But did the royal family remain ignorant of their schemes? Hardly.
Ordered by the king himself, Earl Redfield ensured the trial never even began. He pulled strings with the mercenary guild, preventing the boy from attending the hearing. Without the plaintiff, the trial fell apart.
As the boy was dragged away by the mercenaries, he didn’t resist. He felt a deep self-loathing for the fleeting moment he’d considered betraying his mother for money.
From then on, Rick closed his heart and wandered the world. By chance, he found work in the fiefdom of Baron Meyer, where he met and fell in love with the baron’s niece, Maria.
But Rick, having witnessed his mother’s downfall, wanted neither marriage nor romance. He vowed silently to hide his feelings and devote himself solely to Maria’s happiness.
“In the original story, Rick was only ever shown pining for Maria from afar.”
It didn’t seem like he wanted revenge on the royal family for taking Blue Atrium.
But considering the original story focused heavily on Maria’s romance, it wouldn’t be surprising if Rick still harbored deep resentment for his father and the royal family.
“If it were me, I’d skip the royal family and the Earl entirely and just go for the root of the problem—the lord’s groin.”
You can never be too careful with people. Better safe than sorry.
If the skull mask at the Sacred Salon really does belong to Rick Ray...
“I’ll keep any conversation brief if we meet today. No good can come from talking too much.”
Any initial flutter of excitement I might have felt has completely evaporated.
Now the question is: What dress can I wear to avoid being recognized?
As I mentally coordinated outfits, I abruptly sprang to my feet, only to realize one glaring issue.
I’d forgotten to remove my cast.
“KYAAAAA!”
The world tilted as I tumbled, and a group of maids came rushing in.
“Miss! Are you alright?”
“Oh no! Let’s get that cast off right away!”
Inside the heavy plaster, my ankle—perfectly fine until this morning—throbbed ominously with a dull, persistent ache.
***
It didn’t seem like I’d sprained it again.
Still, you know that awful numbness when you’ve been sitting with one ankle tucked under your thigh while studying for 30 minutes? That pins-and-needles sensation? The lingering discomfort lasted well into the afternoon.
“Maybe I shouldn’t go to the salon.”
But I couldn’t risk the coin having an expiration date, so I dressed to the nines, threw on a coat, and headed to the Sacred Salon.
“Welcome, my lady. Please enter through this door today.”
Following the directions of an attendant wearing a bird-beak mask, I stepped through a ventilation shaft-like entrance. The atmosphere inside, no matter how many times I visited, was something I couldn’t get used to.
The music was lively, the air was laced with a faint scent of liquor, and warmth and laughter filled the room.
Seriously?
“Pfft! That’s too ridiculous. It was something plain, matching her face.”
At that point, I decided to act.
Turning sharply, I slammed my mojito glass onto their table with a resounding thud.
“What a depressing conversation to have over drinks, gentlemen.”
“Huh? Who are you?”
“I’m the one who bet on ‘Maria and Tristan’ at the May Ball.”
“Oh...”
“And if I happened to be the prince’s fiancée, what would you do about it? Try to blackmail me outside the salon?”
“N-No, of course not! I didn’t mean—”
“Save your excuses. They’re as unimpressive as your face behind that mask.”
“W-What?”
“Oopsie.”
Ignoring his rising temper, I propped my uninjured leg onto the table. The bold gesture left the group speechless.
My solution? Behave in a way no one would associate with quiet, demure Doris Redfield.
My role model was clear.
Sister Natalie, lend me your strength!
Channeling Natalie’s audacity, I stared down the masked man and launched another attack.
“Psychologists say insults reflect your insecurities. You called the fiancée’s face plain, right?”
“Well, uh, that’s not untrue. Her sisters are beauties, but she’s...”
“Fascinating. You’ve managed to study the face of a woman who rarely attends social events. Let’s all applaud your dedication!”
I clapped, my sarcasm earning a scowl.
“W-What?”
“Didn’t get it? I’m praising you. Criticizing others’ appearances must be your life’s crowning achievement.”
The man sputtered, his face visibly red beneath his mask.
Raising three fingers, I said, “I’ll give you three seconds to come up with a rebuttal. Don’t pretend to laugh it off, then go home and cry about it later.”
“...!”
His mask quivered with suppressed anger, but he couldn’t respond. Satisfied, I stood, exaggeratedly lifting my skirts into a curtsy. My jewelry glittered like stars on my red dress.
“Do come up with something more entertaining next time. I only engage in conversations worth more than a drink!”
I laughed, waved my fan flamboyantly, and sat back down.
This should keep them from suspecting me as Doris Redfield, right?
Thank you, Doris, for being so well-behaved all these years!
Peeking over my fan, I saw the man still fuming. His peers, however, weren’t siding with him.
After all, who would want to befriend someone without wit, courage, or tact in a place like this?
Sigh.
As the adrenaline faded, my hands began trembling.
Arguments are terrifying!
I sipped a new drink, calming my nerves.
The next major bet, likely tied to that event, would revolve around the June Hunting Tournament.