The Duke's Imposter Sister

Chapter 43 – Secrets to the Grave (1)

As soon as she heard his words, she realized something was wrong. To her knowledge she had never avoided him as much as she did right now. So, why would he continuously notice her even though she didn’t show any overt strange behavior?

However, she held her tongue and tightly closed her eyes, feeling a burning sensation enveloping her while Duke Vianut’s eyes were fixed on her nape. He then retrieved his gaze seemingly done with her, as if all his doubt had been cleared. He then checked his watch before he spoke briefly.

“Talking with you was a pleasure.”

Those brief words told her that she should now leave as their conversation had already ended. Although it was spoken with a cold tone, there was an immense relief that washed over her.

She had survived. Even though it was just a whim of his that she managed to avoid death’s door, she was still alive, nonetheless. However, at this moment, she isn’t sure whether being alive was a blessing or a bane.

Still, right now, that didn’t matter to her because she soon would be away from this personification of Death God. So, she tried to lift her body that went stiff from keeping still on the floor until then. All of a sudden, Vianut spoke again.

“Everyone, please go out.”

Unfortunately for Gris, her happiness from being able to stay alive did not last for long. Since Vianut easily crushed it with his few words.

“You, however, will stay here.”

Hearing that, Quentin immediately signaled Stephan to follow him out. But Stephan hesitated. He was not sure it was safe to leave this girl, who knew all his lies, alone with the duke. Yet, in the end, he had no choice but to give up lest he incurred further suspicion from Vianut. So, he gritted his teeth and left following Quentin docilely.

Soon, sounds of the door opening and closing reached Gris ears. And the footsteps of the two men gradually faded away into distance. Left alone with Vianut, Gris felt restless, especially when he was inspecting her from head to toe.

“Your name.”

And just like the time they first met, he demanded her name again. He was very clear in what he wanted. But, she didn’t have the heart to tell him her real identity. She didn’t want the name her parents lovingly gave her in Kingdom of Grandia to be known here. So, her lips quivered as she started to speak.

“I don’t have a name. Back at the brothel, they call me ‘Maria’.”

Maria. This name was such a common one people could find in every two families. And, by choosing it, Gris is convinced he couldn’t easily kill her; not when she saw him praying in front of the Virgin Mary’s wax figure, a name identical to the one she bore.

Though he seemed to discern the meaning behind her moniker, she didn’t care. Because she desperately wanted to survive at all cost. Therefore, if it took a cowardly method for that to happen, then so be it.

“Maria…”

He uttered, looking displeased. Gris thought it stemmed from the name being used in an unholy place – a brothel of all places. However, he didn’t dwell on it for long because he soon shifted his attention to other things. So, he questioned her with furrowed brows.

“Where did you learn that song?”

It was about the Lullaby of Benedict, the song he caught her singing by the window of the gallery in the mansion. But she didn’t want to reveal the truth to him. Thus, she looked at his pristine shoes without any dirt and lied.

“I learned it at the brothel.”

“From the prostitutes?”

He asked with a husky tone, extending his hand to grasp Gris’ delicate neck, lightly clenching it. Even so, just with the position he placed his hands on, he could easily snap her nape. As such, she raised her head, instinctively trying to lessen the pressure however she could as she stared at the bewitching man before her with reddish eyes.

Regardless of how pitiful she looked, though, his eyes remained ice cold as he locked eyes with her. Furthermore, despite not saying a word further, she seemed to understand what he wanted to ask behind his gaze. She knew he wanted to interrogate her with the following questions.

‘From which prostitute? Or did you hear that lullaby when you slept with someone?’

But… Just by imagining this lullaby being sung inside the brothel, made her blood surge violently in rage. This showed just how high this particular song’s position was in her heart. Not only to her, but also to him. In fact, just from the fact he was interrogating her about this, she could infer that this composition seemed to mean a lot to him as well. However, despite understanding this, she still didn’t want to reveal from whom she learnt the song from.

Absolutely not.

As such, she avoided his gaze by turning her head to the study table and said.

“I apologize.”

What he wanted wasn’t her apology. After all, he wouldn’t waste his time just to get an apology from a who*re. No. The reason he held her back wasn’t for her apology nor for inconsequential answers.

He had a far more important purpose behind interrogating and questioning her. But, after careful speculation, he decided to loosen his grip on her neck and changed his means to get his answer. And as his cold hands drifted away, a chill brushed under her chin.