Chapter 24. After the reservation

Her already pale face grew increasingly ashen, eventually turning a sickly shade of blue.

Only then did she realize—she had forgotten to account for the photographer when she fled the riverside that day.

She had no idea how things had spiraled since then, but to think that the photos had ended up in the Admancanon household, and worse, in the hands of the former duchess herself!

The thought that this might interfere with fulfilling the contract sent a sharp jolt through her.

‘What should I do? The photos? The film? What on earth should I say here…?’

Her face betrayed her confusion and panic, and Dalia, clearly enjoying herself, spoke with a smug tone.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out about your sordid affair with this vulgar man?”

She flung a photo toward Serenia, letting it land on the table in front of her.

The picture captured Ain’s face in clear detail. Serenia, unable to tear her gaze away, stared at it in shock. Dalia smirked openly, her voice dripping with scorn.

“Now that it’s come to this, why don’t you just tell the truth?”

“…Excuse me?”

“What was your intention in choosing him, of all men? Why him?”

“My intention…? I don’t understand…”

“Hmph. There’s no point denying it.”

Dalia cut her off sharply, her lips curling into a cruel smile.

“Was it because, seeing him on stage, you were reminded of Raskal? Unable to have the real thing, you settled for a cheap imitation?”

“What are you talking about…”

Serenia was utterly taken aback by Dalia’s words.

On stage?

Raskal?

A cheap imitation?

A chilling sense of foreboding swept over Serenia as if something long-buried was beginning to surface, sending a cold shiver down her spine.

“Not a wealthy farmer from some countryside, nor a local factory manager, but an actor. A mere performer!”

“A… performer?” Serenia stammered, her lips trembling slightly.

‘He wasn’t… a host?’

Dalia, noticing her stunned expression, let out a loud, incredulous laugh.

“That’s right! And not just any actor, but one who shamelessly plays the role of Raskal in every performance of ‘The Little Duke Raskal’! A man so brazen he steals the applause that rightfully belongs to my son!”

At that moment, Serenia remembered. His name, which she had first heard outside the bank. The same name plastered in bold letters across promotional posters displayed all over the capital.

“…Ain Reveron.”

The name slipped from her lips in a faint murmur.

It felt as though someone had struck her on the head.

Even amidst her confusion, memories of everything he had ever said to her began rushing back. Nowhere in those conversations had he claimed to be a host or a loan shark.

“This can’t be…”

Muttering in a daze, Serenia suddenly rose to her feet.

The screech of her chair dragging against the floor was loud enough to make Dalia narrow her eyes sharply, but Serenia didn’t apologize or even glance back. Instead, she bolted from the room.

Rushing out of the mansion in one breath, she finally stopped in front of a tall wall along a major street.

Panting, she raised her head.

Plastered across the high wall were dozens of red posters

[A year-end return of the play The Little Duke Raskal’, starring Ain Reveron!]

The bold text emblazoned at the center of the poster confirmed the truth she could no longer deny.

He wasn’t a host. He was an actor.

And not just any actor, but a celebrated performer who had played the titular role of Raskal in ‘The Little Duke Raskal’ for the past ten years.

The vivid red of the poster seemed to sting her eyes. Serenia shut them tightly.

For years, she had avoided looking at these posters. Every year around this time, they would appear all over the capital, and every time, they would remind her of her father.

She knew her father must have been depicted in the play, though not by name. Perhaps as a character like “Lord Kilos,” carefully avoiding outright slander.

Undoubtedly, he was cast as the villain who drove the protagonist, Raskal, into peril—a character the audience would curse and revile throughout the play and perhaps even long after it ended.

Serenia understood that such scorn was deserved.

But knowing that and facing the anguish and shame it brought were two different things.

To avoid these thoughts and emotions, she had consciously avoided anything related to the play.

She refused to look at it, think about it, or even remember it.

That was why she hadn’t recognized Ain’s identity when she first heard his name outside the bank. And it was why, even now, she hadn’t connected “Ain” to the actor’s full name until Dalia forced her to confront the truth.

“Raskal was right. Not a single thing he said was wrong.”

Serenia let out a bitter laugh.

She had spent her life avoiding the past and everything it had wrought in the present.

And yet, here she was, demanding answers to questions she had always run from.

How pathetic and laughable she must have seemed.

Overcome with shame, Serenia hung her head.

But she quickly lifted it again, her lips pressed tightly together in determination.

There was no more running.

No, there could be no more running.

If she wanted answers, she would have to confront the truths she had avoided for so long.

She resolved to face everything she had evaded—Ain, his play, and even the poster in front of her.

Beyond the bold title and Ain’s name, the poster was filled with additional text.

[Born of grief, despair, and anguish, nobility blossoms. A stirring epic of a true hero!]

Below the tagline, the poster listed detailed information: the supporting cast, director, scriptwriter, costume designers, and more.

At the very bottom were the theater’s address and the performance schedule.

[Performance Dates: November 1 – December 8 / Theater closed on the 4th, 14th, and 24th of each month.]

Today was December 8th.

Without hesitation, Serenia headed straight for the capital’s Grand Theater.

—

By the time Serenia arrived in front of the Grand Theater, less than 30 minutes remained until the performance began.

The early evening sky was already dim, the shadows of dusk creeping in. She glanced around the area, her head tilting slightly in confusion.

‘I don’t think it was that late when I stormed out of the duke’s mansion.’

Moreover, the distance from there to here wasn’t particularly far.

‘…Is time moving faster than usual?’

She dismissed the thought, unable to imagine that her own steps had simply slowed along the way.

The area in front of the theater was bustling with theatergoers. Among the crowd, staff in purple uniforms scurried about, shouting loudly.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to ‘The Little Duke Raskal’! Please note the following announcements!”

“Tonight’s performance is completely sold out, and heavy crowding is expected in the seating area!”

“Ticket holders, please begin entering now to ensure a smooth admission process!”

Hearing their shouts, Serenia unconsciously muttered to herself.

“…Sold out?”

A look of distress appeared on her face.

‘So… that means there are no tickets left?’

Today was the final performance of this play.

In other words, if she missed it today, the next chance to see ‘The Little Duke Raskal’ would be in November of next year—if she was lucky.

That wasn’t all.

He had said he would be quitting after tonight.

Which meant that this was her last opportunity to see him perform.

Her resolve to face everything head-on suddenly felt pointless.

The determination she had worked so hard to muster was now on the verge of being undone by something as mundane as a lack of tickets.

The absurdity of it left her feeling empty and disheartened.

As she stood there, her expression vacant, someone tapped her lightly on the back.

She turned around slowly to find a boy, who looked no older than ten, standing behind her.

“…What?”

The boy, responding to her puzzled question, pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for her to stay quiet.

He glanced around furtively before pulling her into a secluded alley behind the theater.

‘What is this? Is he trying to rob me…?’

As bizarre thoughts flitted through her mind, the boy spoke in a mischievous tone, his expression bold.

“Miss, you came to see the play today, didn’t you?”

“Uh… yes, I suppose…”

When Serenia nodded awkwardly, the boy narrowed his eyes and grinned before leaning in to whisper conspiratorially.

“Are you interested in buying a ticket?”