Come and Cry at My Funeral - Chapter 91
Meanwhile, Atria shook her head in dissatisfaction as she observed the sinister glances.
After all, everyone pretends to be noble, but as my mother says, they’re just beasts with nothing but dark desires in their minds. To harbor such thoughts upon seeing an illegitimate wench like that.
‘I must remind the Duke at some point.’
She didn’t want to think so, but could Izar have been slightly attracted to that wench?
The subtly rigid distance made it uncertain, but she couldn’t miss the irritated expression that briefly crossed his face when the younger son of the Deneb family greeted him cheerfully.
‘Yes, indeed… I should be able to handle that much.’
The bitter truth of life her mother had taught left a bitter aftertaste.
A wench may look unremarkable, but put a mask on her face, and it would be so easy for men to be seduced anyway.
<My daughter, don’t delude yourself into thinking Duke Arcturus is any different. Just focus on securing a cleaned-up lineage for yourself.>
However, the most beautiful aspect of this great estate, and the leader of the chosen lineage, was that man.
And now, what about him?
As soon as he appeared, the heads of the households stood up in haste to offer their thanks.
“Your Grace, we truly appreciate your support.”
“The journey here was quite arduous.”
“If Your Grace had not assisted…”
Were there frequent monster attacks on the outskirts of each manor recently? Living in one of the safest parts of the capital, Atria listened indifferently.
‘All this fuss over mere beasts.’
Nevertheless, sending rescue squads at the request of each family was a major source of income and prestige for the dukedom.
Thus, while everyone bowed to the furious emperor under the overwhelming pretext of ‘punishment for the rebellion,’ no one dared to belittle the Duke of Arcturus.
His special power was a capability not even a diviner could possess.
‘How could one not covet a perfect man like him?’
At that moment, the bastard was observing the duke from a few steps away, receiving other people’s thanks with indifference. Underneath her pale eyelashes, her light green eyes clearly melted with love.
Watching quietly, Atria smiled faintly.
This ignorant girl.
Today, Atria must make this insignificant ‘bastard’ understand her place and urge the duke to start cutting her off.
“Sister, I didn’t know you were already acquainted with Sir Albireo. I didn’t even get a chance to introduce you.”
“…The Marchioness has been quite helpful in many ways.”
“Ah, I see. The Marchioness.”
Atria’s lips curled further, reddening. This wench used to call her ‘my lady’ when they were secluded in the estate, but now she acts so presumptuously in front of others.
‘No, I can tolerate this much.’
Soon, it would be clear how foolish this girl was. In contrast, she needed to show that she was the sister robbed of a marriage proposal by a greedy illegitimate girl.
“Sister, come here. The Duke is busy, so I will introduce you to the other ladies.”
Only then did Freesia reluctantly turn her head away from Izar.
‘Why does it bother me so much that Izar is holding a glass of wine?’
It was a natural scene when discussing matters with other men, but why did she feel forgotten? At such times, a wife should indeed be with other women.
But what more introduction was needed?
‘These faces are already all too familiar.’
These were the women Atria had known since she was bedwetting on a golden tasseled baby blanket, who had been biting at her and babbling about how pitiable Atria was for three years.
And Atria linked arms with them as if they were close friends.
Freesia pulled her hand away, and although she wanted to slap her as she had a disobedient sheep, she barely restrained herself.
‘It’s better to take the beating quickly and get it over with.’
Before coming here, had she not repeatedly mulled over the memories of this day? Indeed, even in her past life, after returning home bruised and battered, she had often buried her face in her pillow and reflected.
‘If only I had known more, I wouldn’t have said such foolish things.’
She could have responded like a refined lady…
‘Such regrets now disgust me.’
Even as they greeted her with their ominously pleasant smiles, she steeled her heart. The conversations she had longed to rewind began.
The first was from an old friend of Atria, subtly hinting at Freesia’s inadequate education.
“Madam, I heard this is only your second visit to the capital, is that true?”
“Yes, that’s correct. I’ve mostly stayed within the dukedom until now.”
“Hmm. Then you haven’t had much chance to enjoy what the capital offers… I suppose you haven’t even experienced ‘Altair and Belaiga’ yet.”
The veiled concern masked the ridicule of her ignorance. However, Freesia smiled without hesitation this time.
“Yes, unfortunately, I haven’t seen the play directly, but I’ve been introduced to it through ‘The Tales of Lyra,’ and I’m curious to see how different it would be in theater.”
“Oh, you’ve read that book yourself?”
“Yes, quite enjoyably.”
The Tales of Lyra was a cultural primer essential for the nobility, filled with archaic language and always concluding with a moral lesson.
‘Truthfully, I don’t particularly enjoy it. Especially the story of Altair and Belaiga.’
Altair, a prince of an ancient kingdom, falls in love with Belaiga, a priestess’s daughter.
But since Belaiga was born to a priestess sworn to a lifetime of chastity, the public’s gaze towards her was never kind.
Ultimately, weary from the hardships of love, Belaiga chooses to live as the wife of the enemy general after being captured, rather than escape.
‘Ultimately, Altair dies in despair.’
Among many topics, this story arose because,
“Madam, what do you think about Belaiga’s choice?”
It paralleled Freesia’s situation.
