Chapter 13. Charles de Ophilenz

Late into the night, Emma still couldn’t set aside the bundle of documents Alain had handed her.

“Is there still that much to memorize?”

Melanie, watching her sister struggle, finally gave in and sat up, her voice filled with concern.

Without even glancing at Melanie, Emma replied dryly, “Yes. The history of the Duke’s family is more intricate than I expected, and the bloodlines are incredibly complicated. It’s better to just memorize everything about Charles’ background.”

“At least loosen your bandages while you work. You’ve probably barely been able to breathe all day.”

At Melanie’s gentle insistence, Emma sighed and rubbed her cold, stiff hands.

“Fine. Maybe I should.”

“Of course you should. It’s just the two of us here, after all.”

After checking the door multiple times to ensure it was locked, Emma slowly pulled off her outer shirt.

“I think I’ll need stronger bandages, Melanie,” Emma murmured as she revealed the marks on her pale skin—bruises left by the tightly bound fabric.

Melanie, trying to suppress her worry, handed her a robe.

“…Yeah. Here, put this on.”
“Thanks. Get some sleep. Starting tomorrow, you’ll be living with the other maids.”

As she draped the robe over Emma’s now bare shoulders, Melanie caught sight of the thin leather cord around her sister’s neck.

“Are you really going to keep wearing that? Wouldn’t it be safer to store it somewhere?”
“Oh, this…”

Emma touched the cord, letting out a faint chuckle.

“It’s Father’s keepsake. I need to keep it safe.”

「Martin Verde」

The engraved seal bearing her father’s name felt rough beneath Emma’s fingertips as she traced it gently, her mind drifting back.

Whenever she thought of her father, the scent of fragrant wood and the gritty texture of stone dust seemed to envelop her, vivid as ever.

Her father, Martin, had been a master artisan and a renowned ‘compagnon’ in his prime.

Before her mother’s passing, the ‘Atelier Verde’, named after him, had been so prestigious that it supplied furniture to the royal family itself.

“Emma, you’ve inherited my talent. You can become anything you want to be.”

Emma’s lips curled into a wistful smile as she recalled her father’s bright grin on the day she proudly showed him her first carved piece.

Even as his health began to decline and the family’s financial situation worsened, her father had always wanted to teach her more.

From selecting the best lumber to translating designs into three-dimensional carvings, he passed down his craft to her. He even went as far as procuring rare marble for her to practice with.

On her fifteenth birthday, he had given her a custom engraving knife with her name etched into the handle.

She still remembered the conflicted look in his eyes as he watched her skill surpass that of an ordinary apprentice.

It was a painful memory, one etched deep into her heart—her father’s unspoken grief at knowing that, despite her talent, Emma could never inherit the atelier.

No woman could even hope to apprentice under a ‘compagnon’, let alone take over an atelier.

Her father knew this better than anyone. Yet he had desperately wanted to pass his legacy to her, even if it was only in name.

As he lay on his deathbed, his breaths shallow and labored, his final thoughts had been consumed by this fear.

“When I’m gone, my apprentices will take the atelier for themselves. Emma, you’re the only one who has truly inherited my skill. I can’t let my name pass to someone else.”

“Emma, listen carefully. The name ‘Verde’ must be yours alone. But to do that, you’ll need a husband. Do you understand?”

But he passed away suddenly, leaving her without the time—or the means—to secure her future as he had hoped.

Unsurprisingly, the atelier did not become Emma’s.

When her stepmother passed shortly after, the unthinkable happened.

Her father’s lead apprentice, André, shamelessly demanded that Emma marry him.

André, a married man only ten years younger than her father, had sneered as he laid out his ultimatum.

“If you don’t sign a marriage contract by tomorrow, the atelier will automatically pass to me as the head apprentice. I’m offering you mercy, Emma.”

“You’re already married!”

“Exactly. I’m offering to leave my wife and children behind to become your legal guardian. You should be grateful.”

That night, Emma made her decision.

She stole into the atelier and took her father’s seal.

Then, with no hesitation, she cut off her long golden hair, letting it fall like discarded chains.

Using her savings, she paid for passage to Verrena.

Perhaps it was luck that her craftsmanship, learned from her father, caught Madame Charlotte’s eye. At the very least, it had spared her from being sold into slavery.

 

But working for Madame Charlotte came at a price. It wasn’t until much later that Emma realized how exorbitant the costs of her and Melanie’s room and board were.

Clenching her teeth, Emma endured it all, clinging to one dream: freedom.

Once she paid off her debts, once she freed Melanie, they would live a simple life.

She imagined a small cottage in a quiet village.

There, she would carve floral patterns into ebony or rosewood furniture to sell.

Melanie would make jams and cheeses to sell at the market.

As Oliver, Emma examined the calluses on her hands, hardened from years of labor.

“…Charles de Ophilenz.”

Her new identity loomed before her, suffocating and overwhelming. She wiped away the tears threatening to spill, pushing away the despair.

There was nothing she could do now but memorize her new name and role—over and over again.

* * *

The Next Morning.

Alain leaned close to the head housekeeper of Violet Castle and spoke in a quiet tone.

“This morning, the Duke’s distant relative, Young Master Charles, arrived.”

“This morning?”

The head housekeeper didn’t look particularly surprised. Among the Duke’s foreign relations, it wasn’t uncommon for guests to arrive in the early hours by carriage, especially those traveling aboard international ships.

Still, she let out a long sigh.

“I suppose he must be particular, arriving directly at the castle at dawn rather than staying even one night at a hotel.”

“Isn’t that to be expected from someone of the Ophilenz family?”

The Ophilenz family’s infamous fastidiousness was well-known among the staff.

In particular, the head of the household, Mikhail, had a legendary reputation for his exacting standards.

Wherever he traveled, Mikhail was known for refusing to stay anywhere that wasn’t owned by the Ophilenz family.

This trait wasn’t limited to Mikhail; nearly every member of the Ophilenz family shared this peculiarity.

Their extreme aesthetic sensibilities meant that even the slightest displeasure—a water glass, or the napkin under their plate not meeting their standards—could sour their mood entirely.

It was no wonder the family owned estates, villas, and townhouses scattered throughout the Kingdom of Verrena. Even neighboring kingdoms like Honor Pearl and small surrounding islands weren’t exceptions.

The housekeeper’s expression darkened at the news of a new addition to the already demanding Ophilenz household.

Alain gave her a sly wink.

“Fortunately, there’s a maid specifically assigned to the young master.”

At last, some relief crossed the housekeeper’s face.

“Thank goodness. All the sharp and capable maids have already been assigned to the master and the young lady.”

“Indeed. But it does mean things will get busier for a while. Make sure to inform the tailor when they arrive later.”

“Yes, sir. I suppose that means the young master doesn’t have any luggage?”

“Of course not. Everything is to be tailored new for the current season.”

It was customary for members of the Ophilenz family to commission exquisite, seasonally appropriate wardrobes upon arrival. The housekeeper nodded without objection.

It was clear that things at the castle were about to get much busier.

* * *

Emma double-checked the tightly wrapped bandages around her body.

“This should be enough. Even if the tailor takes measurements, they shouldn’t notice anything unusual, right?”

Melanie sighed, her worry evident.

“I’m more concerned about whether you can even breathe properly like that.”

“Melanie. We agreed to be careful, didn’t we?”

“…Fine, brother.”

Still under Emma’s silent gaze, Melanie reluctantly corrected herself.

“Yes, Young Master Charles.”

Only then did Emma let out a small chuckle and pat Melanie on the head.

“It’ll feel awkward at first, but let’s keep practicing. We can’t risk any of the other maids catching on.”

Melanie pouted, though it was hardly surprising.

“I haven’t been able to call you ‘sister’ for three years now. What’s one more awkward title like ‘young master’ at this point?”

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation, and Emma took a deep breath.

For the time being, Emma and Oliver would have to say goodbye.

It was time to fully transform into Charles de Ophilenz.