Chapter 14. Into a Beautiful Hell

It was already past five in the afternoon.

Mikhail sat by the window, the setting sun painting the sky behind him. He sipped from his sixth cup of coffee, his gaze sharp as he sifted through the mountain of papers piled on his desk.

“Thanks to the princess, my already packed schedule has become even tighter.”

Louis rubbed his temples as he watched Mikhail work tirelessly at his desk, his intensity as relentless as ever.

“Surely you haven’t been running on just coffee all day, have you?”

“I had a cigar too.”

“….”

Moments like this left no doubt that he was the quintessential head of the Ophilenz family.

Louis swallowed an unspoken sigh as he carefully monitored the Duke, who tolerated no mistakes when it came to work.

“Setting everything else aside, the ship’s departure schedule is critical. It must sail no later than May.”

Mikhail’s ivory fountain pen froze mid-motion at Louis’ comment, and a flicker of unease crossed the steward’s face.

“May, you say. Louis, when is the princess’s birthday?”

“April 25th, Your Grace. The party is scheduled for the same day.”

“Well, that’s convenient.”

“Pardon?”

“I was thinking, wouldn’t it be perfect to send Charles off on the ship immediately after attending the party?”

“…Ah.”

Louis swallowed hard.

“But don’t you think this needs more careful consideration?”

Launching the Ophilenz family’s ship was no trivial matter. The costs alone consumed nearly 30% of the family’s annual budget—a staggering sum.

It was one of the events Mikhail poured the most effort into every year.

While the expenses were enormous, the profits from acquiring rare foreign artworks more than justified the endeavor.

Historically, those chosen to board the ship were at least viscount-level artists or resourceful up-and-coming nobles. Most had been meticulously trained by Mikhail himself to refine their tastes and skills.

Entrusting such a monumental task to someone with a fabricated identity seemed reckless at best.

Louis’ concerns were well-founded, but Mikhail’s expression tightened, a faint crease forming on his otherwise smooth brow.

“Of course, I’ll observe him further. Even I don’t know the full extent of his eye for art yet.”

“…I see.”

“But if we’re going to deceive the royal court, that level of theatrics might be necessary.”

For Mikhail, allowing someone onto the Ophilenz family ship signified trust.

In Verrena, earning the Ophilenz family’s trust was akin to securing a ticket to success.

Many nobles offered bribes each year, hoping to get their sons aboard the ship. Of course, without the necessary aptitude, they were swiftly and mercilessly rejected.

If Charles were to be sent on the ship, it would undoubtedly draw significant attention to the boy’s beauty.

And, it would be an opportunity to infuriate the persistent Princess Isabella.

After all, the more unattainable love felt, the deeper it grew.

Mikhail smirked as he imagined Isabella tearfully waving her handkerchief as Charles sailed away.

Louis, noticing his Duke’s mischievous grin, couldn’t help but interject.

“Do you really think the princess will fall for Young Master Charles at first sight?”

Mikhail gave Louis a steady look.

“Do we have any other promising options?”

Louis found himself facing not the calculating businessman but the starry-eyed visionary Mikhail could become on occasion. He replied, incredulous,

“I can’t help but feel uneasy about your confidence, Your Grace. You’re so exacting in business, yet you lose all reason when faced with beauty.”

Mikhail’s golden eyes gleamed, clearly amused by the remark.

“So, you admit Charles is beautiful, even by your standards.”

Louis couldn’t deny it.

“As a man, I’ll admit there’s something otherworldly about him. How should I put it…”

Louis pushed his glasses up, searching for the right words.

“He’s so stunning that one could easily believe he shares your bloodline, Your Grace.”

Mikhail shrugged, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.

“Exactly. So, it’s only natural to have high expectations for Isabella’s reaction. My judgment is sound.”

That confident smirk turned into a decisive smile.

And as Alain had suggested, Mikhail had already decided to personally teach his beautiful new “younger brother” everything he needed to know.

Charles’ instincts were sharp enough. With Mikhail’s guidance added to the mix…

The clock struck 5:45 PM as Gabriella entered the room.

“What are you doing, brother? Did you forget the dinner with your ‘stand-in’? We only have fifteen minutes left.”

Despite her distaste for the dinner arrangement, Gabriella’s aristocratic habit of punctuality drove her to insist on keeping the schedule. Mikhail couldn’t help but laugh boyishly at her insistence.

“Gabi, surely you haven’t forgotten your new brother’s name already?”

“Honestly, I’d rather not join this dinner at all. I’m only attending to show the bare minimum of respect for your judgment.”

Gabriella adjusted her elegant pale lavender satin gown, befitting her role as the lady of Violet Castle, and added with icy resolve:

“But let me be clear, brother—my presence at this dinner does ‘not’ mean I acknowledge him as my brother.”

Mikhail stood, extending an arm to escort Gabriella with gentlemanly poise, his tone teasing.

“And I’d like you to acknowledge that I hardly had any other choice in this matter, my beautiful sister.”

Gabriella shot him a cold, defiant glare, her noble features sharpening.

“No matter how I think about it, it’s horrifying. That laborer we saw in the greenhouse at the gallery—how can ‘that’ person ever become my brother?”

“If you look more closely, you might change your mind. You didn’t even really see him properly that day.”

Gabriella, having only heard the full explanation from Alain late last night, squeezed Mikhail’s arm sharply in frustration.

“No, I saw him clearly. Dust-covered, dull, lifeless hair—I remember everything about him.”

“Hmm.”

“This is madness, brother. Even if you transform his identity and appearance, there’s no way he can pass as a member of the Ophilenz family.”

Gabriella suddenly stopped in her tracks—not deliberately, but out of sheer shock.

“…So, that’s him? That boy from before?”

Mikhail followed her gaze, turning slowly to see what had left Gabriella momentarily spellbound.

There stood a figure with neatly styled golden-blond hair, radiating elegance.

Gone was any trace of hardship; instead, his skin was flawlessly clear, his cheeks faintly tinged with rose, and his sapphire-blue eyes sparkled like gemstones. He looked like an angel from a sacred painting—refined, graceful, and ethereal.

But most of all…

It was the poised and courteous voice of “Charles” as he greeted them that left them momentarily speechless.

“It’s been a while, Duke Ophilenz. Gabriella, it’s good to see you again.”

Their radiant “brother” even pulled out a pocket watch from his vest, checking the time with a calm air, before offering a playful quip.

“Gabriella, you haven’t changed a bit. You were always the type to arrive precisely five minutes before an appointment. Some things never change.”

His words, spoken as though they had been close since childhood, made Gabriella’s shoulders twitch slightly.

“…How much of this did you tell him?” she muttered under her breath, visibly uneasy.

Mikhail, meanwhile, could hardly contain his satisfaction, the corners of his lips curling into a proud smile.

“Charles, feel free to speak casually.”

Emma, now fully inhabiting her role as Charles, glanced briefly at Mikhail’s outstretched hand.

Her gaze lingered for a moment on his strong, masculine fingers adorned with gleaming rings. She smiled gently, her expression serene.

“You still favor red rubies, I see.”

With that, Emma reached out to take the hand offered to her.

It was a warm, firm hand—a hand that would guide her deeper into this beautiful hell.

A shiver, both thrilling and foreboding, ran down her spine.

Suppressing the unsettling feeling, Emma smiled brightly, just as a boy would.

“It’s been a while, brother.”