Chapter 4
The news of his sister’s death reached Franz Ravello on a fine afternoon.
Without any warning or prior indication, his twin sister was gone—she had taken her own life.
At first, he couldn’t believe it. He thought someone had sent him a cruel prank letter.
But then, when he saw the newspapers that spread across the entire empire, he realized it was true.
“The Hidden Life of a Virtuous Duchess!”
“How Did the Duchess of Muton Commit Infidelity?”
“Did the Duchess’s Death Serve as Atonement or an Escape?”
The world condemned his sister.
They claimed she betrayed her husband, had an affair, and then died. Franz couldn’t believe any of it.
‘Priscilla, why…?’
She wasn’t someone who would easily betray others. She wasn’t the type to commit immoral acts, let alone run away from her mistakes by dying.
But everyone except Franz believed in Priscilla’s infidelity.
Even the Ravello Marquess family, whom he encountered at the funeral, thought so.
“I always knew Priscilla would cause trouble someday. She’s been a troublemaker since she was little.”
The Marchioness waved her black-feathered fan as she spoke. She was not Franz and Priscilla’s biological mother but their stepmother.
Their mother, the first Marchioness, had died twenty-nine years ago, when the twins were five years old.
Until then, Franz and Priscilla had lived enviable lives as the eldest son and daughter of the prestigious Ravello family.
But their lives changed completely when their father remarried just a year after their mother’s death.
“Oh my, you must be Priscilla? What a pretty girl you are.”
Their new stepmother, Phoebe, had warmly stroked Priscilla’s hair when they first met.
But she changed the moment she became pregnant with her own child.
Intent on passing the title of marquess to her son, she began harshly mistreating and suppressing the twins.
Their father, the Marquess Ravello, was no better.
“You can’t seem to do anything right. You caused me endless headaches in life, and even now, in death, you’re a disgrace.”
He never protected his children from their stepmother’s abuse.
He had been just as indifferent and neglectful toward their birth mother during her illness.
The twins were thoroughly alienated, but Priscilla fought fiercely to survive.
She endured their stepmother’s relentless insults, withstood unfair treatment, and swallowed her pride to lower her head.
Franz understood why his sister never stood up against their stepmother.
‘Don’t you regret it? If you act this way, Franz will suffer.’
It was because of him.
Compared to Priscilla, Franz had been born sickly. He had inherited their mother’s frail constitution.
People whispered about the stark difference between the twins’ health.
“This is why twins are bad news. There’s a saying that one twin takes all the other’s nutrients.”
“Just look at Priscilla, so healthy. Do you think Franz will survive long?”
“Honestly, if they had been born separately, Franz might have been healthy too.”
Perhaps because of this, Priscilla harbored a sense of guilt that Franz couldn’t understand.
She felt as if she had stolen his health for herself.
Their mother’s dying wish—that Priscilla take good care of her brother—also became an unshakable burden.
Yes, Franz is my responsibility.
Mother asked me to protect him.
It’s my fault he’s weak.
One night, as he overheard his sister murmuring these words, Franz felt his heart ache.
Yet, powerless as he was, all he could do was watch.
He wished desperately to grow stronger, to become an adult, and to live independently.
But before he could achieve that, she had left for the Muton Duchy, and the next thing he received was news of her death.
“…Father, do you really think Priscilla did such a thing?”
Knowing it was futile, Franz still asked, clinging to the hope of some denial.
“They didn’t even find her body—are we sure she’s really dead?”
“Franz Ravello!”
The Marquess’s furious outburst silenced Franz. His father glared at him with disapproval.
“She was caught doing shameful acts and killed herself out of disgrace! Keep your mouth shut and be ashamed!”
Unbeknownst to Franz, the Ravello family had already received a substantial sum of hush money from Brian Muton.
The conditions were clear:
They were not to claim that Priscilla had been wronged.
They were not to complain about the absence of a body.
They were not to question her death.
Naturally, the Ravello family had no intention of defying these terms.
To the rebuilt Ravello family, Franz and Priscilla had always been thorns in their side. This was an excellent opportunity to rid themselves of one of them.
Franz was devastated as the voice of his half-brother, Alex, broke the silence.
“So, how much longer do we have to stay here? I’m tired and want to lie down…”
“My dear Alex, are you very tired? Just bear with it a little longer. She was a duchess, after all, so they’re giving her a proper funeral.”
“Ugh, why couldn’t she just live better? Now she’s dead and causing everyone trouble.”
Franz clenched his fists at his half-brother’s careless complaint.
How could they speak so lightly of her death?
Truly, they were cruel and heartless people.
As he bowed his head and quietly entered the funeral hall, someone approached him.
“It’s been a while, Franz.”
“…Ah, Duke Muton.”
Franz hid his discomfort as he bowed politely to the Duke.
Years ago, he had a minor quarrel with Duke Muton. He had intervened in an argument between the Duke and Priscilla, only to get caught up in their dispute.
Offended by the involvement of his much-younger wife’s brother, the Duke had pettily banned Franz from entering the Muton household.
As a result, Franz had not been able to see his sister in person for a long time, relying on letters to keep in touch.
If he had known this would happen, he wouldn’t have cared about the ban—he would have visited her.
“It’s unpleasant to see you again under such sad circumstances.”
“…Is my sister really dead?”
“Yes, she left a note and threw herself off a high cliff.”
The Duke answered with a tone of absolute certainty.
After thinking about it rationally, he was now convinced that Priscilla was completely gone.
The odds of an ordinary person surviving such a fall were about as slim as the odds of him losing his divine blessing.
“Then… is it true that Priscilla committed infidelity? Could there have been some mistake?”
“Ah, that matter… It was a great disappointment and betrayal for me as well. To think my wife would engage in such shameful behavior with another man.”
“Duke, my sister would never do such a thing. Please investigate this again.”
Franz desperately grabbed the Duke’s hand, pleading with him.
But the Duke coldly pulled away and replied,
“Enough, Franz. What’s the point of digging further when she’s already apologized with her death?”
“Still, if we could just investigate one more time—”
The Duke glared at Franz, cutting him off.
“Franz, do you wish to further tarnish your sister’s reputation here?”
“….”
“For Priscilla’s sake, it’s best to let this go. At least this way, she’ll be remembered as someone who felt remorse and atoned for her sins.”
With that sharp remark, the Duke turned and left. Franz, stunned, sat down in a corner of the funeral hall.
As he sat there quietly, lost in thought, whispers reached his ears.
“I never thought the Duchess of Muton would be so sly behind the scenes.”
“She probably acted all virtuous and reserved to hide her guilt.”
“What’s the use of a pretty face? A good character is what matters, and look what happened in the end.”
The cruel words criticizing and mocking his dead sister pierced Franz’s heart like daggers.
He wanted to refute them, but he knew nothing of the situation. If he spoke up carelessly, it might only tarnish Priscilla’s name further.
Behind his thin, silver-framed glasses, his green eyes shimmered as if on the verge of tears.
At that moment,
“Let’s keep the chatter appropriate for a funeral, shall we?”
A low, weighty voice, like a sound echoing in a cave, warned the noblewomen.
When they turned to see who had spoken, their faces flushed, and they fell silent.
Franz also raised his tearful eyes and was startled to see who it was.
‘The Crown Prince…?’
Theodore naturally sat down next to Franz.
Idly spinning a lily, likely meant as an offering, between his fingers, he asked calmly,
“Are you going to stay here?”
“…Pardon?”
“It must be uncomfortable. Why don’t you just leave?”
The blunt and inconsiderate comment left Franz flustered as he looked at Theodore.
The Crown Prince’s profile, perfectly composed as he faced forward, was like a work of art.
Franz couldn’t understand why the Crown Prince, whom he had never spoken to before, was suddenly acting this way.
Naturally, he declined.
“…I’m here to attend my sister’s funeral.”
“If it were me.”
Theodore slowly turned his head, his icy blue eyes meeting Franz’s.
“I wouldn’t bother attending a funeral without a body.”
“….”
“What meaning could there possibly be in this?”
Theodore’s quiet words cut deeper into Franz than the whispers of the noblewomen.
Franz looked around the funeral hall in a daze.
Despite it being a funeral for a duchess, the number of mourners was pitifully small, and few seemed to genuinely grieve for Priscilla.
‘…He’s right. What’s the point of this?’
Even if Priscilla had committed a crime and died, wasn’t a funeral meant to honor the deceased?
A funeral that didn’t serve the deceased had no meaning at all.
Realizing this, Franz suddenly no longer wanted to stay.
He rose from his seat and bowed politely.
“I’ll take my leave now.”
Theodore nodded silently.
He watched Franz leave the funeral hall before turning his attention elsewhere with a bored expression.
Franz returned to his home near the Alyan Forest, west of the capital.
By the time he arrived, night had fallen, the rain had started to drizzle, and the house was soaked in darkness.
Once inside, he shook off the water and ran his fingers through his golden hair, the same shade as his late sister’s.
Seeing the familiar hue made him think of Priscilla, filling him with sadness.
“Priscilla…”
He called out her name in a pained voice, mourning the twin sister he would never see again.
“What?”
To his shock, a voice responded from thin air. Franz’s eyes widened in disbelief.
Boom!
A flash of lightning lit up the room, and standing near the kitchen was a woman.
Franz froze, staring at her.
“Aaaah!”
He screamed, his legs giving out beneath him as he pointed a trembling finger at her pale face.
“A g-ghost!”
The figure looked exactly like his deceased sister.
—
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