Chapter 218

Why was he suddenly asking such a question?

Could it be that the Archduke suspected that someone close to him was actually her mother?

Even if that were the case, he wouldn’t get the answer he was looking for.

Iona had no knowledge of her biological mother’s identity—she didn’t even know the exact year she was born.

Unless her face bore an uncanny resemblance to her mother’s, there was no way to trace her origins.

Even then, it would be nothing more than a guess. A meaningless assumption.

That was why, despite the Archduke’s unusual reaction, Iona remained indifferent.

The days when she longed for her mother had long since passed.

To Iona, her mother was nothing more than a stranger—someone she had never met, someone with no real connection to her.

With a composed voice, she probed the Archduke’s intentions.

“Why do you ask?”

“It’s not a difficult question. Do you remember anything about your birth mother?”

His voice was pressing, his demeanor urgent.

Iona could have fabricated a story, but there was no reason to lie. Instead, she answered truthfully.

“No. I’ve never met her.”

“Did the Count ever mention her? Anything at all?”

“Well, given the previous Count’s reputation with women, I’m sure even you are well aware, Your Grace.”

A hint of sarcasm tinged Iona’s voice.

“To be honest, I doubt that man even remembered who my mother was.”

Hayden was never one to maintain long-term relationships with women.

He had no interest in emotional connections—only in physical gratification.

So it wouldn’t be surprising if he had mistaken her mother for another woman he had been with for a brief period.

But whoever she was, she wouldn’t have been someone the Archduke knew.

Hayden had always been cautious, never laying a hand on noblewomen—or even courtesans, for that matter.

That was why Iona had never questioned his claim that her mother had been a low-born woman living in poverty.

‘That’s why I never bothered looking into it.’

Someone like that… It was unlikely she had lived a happy life.

If she hadn’t met a violent end in some back alley, that alone would have been fortunate.

More likely, she had succumbed to illness, dying young.

Iona saw no reason to seek out such grim news.

With an air of indifference, she finally answered the Archduke’s unspoken question.

“According to my father, she was of low birth, frail, and died giving birth to me.”

At last, the Archduke seemed to come to his senses.

It was as if he had just realized how close he had drawn to Iona. He took a step back, retreating from her space.

The tension in Leroy’s shoulders eased—he had been watching warily from the sidelines.

For a moment, the Archduke hesitated, at a loss for words. Then, he finally offered a formal condolence.

“...That is unfortunate.”

“There’s no need to pity me. It’s a past I don’t even remember.”

That should have been enough to clear up any misunderstanding.

And yet, the Archduke didn’t return to his seat.

Instead, he gazed at Iona with a lingering intensity, his eyes filled with something unreadable.

Iona couldn’t shake the strange impression that he was on the verge of tears.

Of course, that was absurd.

After a long silence, he finally spoke again.

“If I recall correctly… you should be around twenty, right?”

“I am. I’ll be twenty-one next month.”

“So, you were born in autumn.”

His eyes darkened, void of light.

Iona neither confirmed nor denied it.

It wasn’t that she believed Baron Franz claim that she was actually older than Nils.

But the truth was, her recorded birthday was nothing more than a fabricated date assigned when she was officially registered.

She had no idea which season she had actually been born in.

And if she admitted that now, it would only lead to more unnecessary conversation.

Finally, the Archduke pulled his gaze away and slowly returned to his seat.

Rubbing his temple with a thick hand, he muttered in a low voice.

“Apologies. I must have made you uncomfortable with these pointless questions. For a moment… I thought you might be the child of someone I knew.”

His voice carried a deep regret.

“Of course, that was a ridiculous thought. But when I heard you were illegitimate, I couldn’t help but wonder…”

The Archduke fell silent, as if even speaking had become too difficult.

Iona wasn’t particularly surprised. She had already guessed as much from his persistent questioning.

Carefully, she asked,

“…Does this have something to do with your dislike for my father?”

Given how visibly shaken the Archduke had been, this must have been a deeply personal matter for him.

Perhaps now, while he was vulnerable, was the best opportunity to close the psychological distance between them.

Iona pressed on.

“For example, did something disgraceful happen between my father and someone close to you?”

“It wasn’t something as trivial as that.”

His response was clipped.

Iona had been right—this was her chance to see what lay beneath his carefully controlled exterior.

The Archduke drained the remainder of his drink in one swift motion and slammed the glass down onto the table.

Then, at last, he spoke his truth.

“It was nothing more than one-sided deceit. A vile scheme that utterly destroyed a woman’s life.”

“…”

“I despise your father.”

His voice was weary, yet firm.

A heavy silence settled over the dining table.

After a moment, Iona casually voiced her agreement.

“So do I.”

The Archduke’s gaze snapped toward her, his expression unreadable.

He didn’t seem to accept her words right away.

But Iona had no hesitation in saying them.

There was no one who hated Hayden and the Modrov family more than she did.

If someone asked her to curse Hayden in the most vile terms, she would gladly oblige—though, of course, she would choose her audience carefully.

“What kind of father tells his child, when she asks about her mother, that she was ‘a lowly wretch’?”

The Archduke remained silent.

Iona’s voice was calm, but cutting.

“You once said my father knew how to use and discard people. And you were right. He raised me in captivity, never letting me see the outside world. Then, when he realized I had a talent for swordsmanship, only then did he finally acknowledge me and register me as his adopted daughter.”

Another silence fell.

Iona stared straight at the Archduke.

Her gaze wasn’t particularly sharp, yet he flinched, instinctively pulling his chin back.

Then, she delivered the final blow.

“I am nothing like my father. Not because I strive to be different, but because I hate him more than anyone else ever could.”

The Archduke didn’t respond.

“I didn’t become the head of House Modrov to inherit his legacy. I did it to take from him what he valued most—to strip him of everything, as my revenge.”

With those words, Iona fell silent, waiting for the Archduke’s response.

The Archduke stared at Iona, his eyes clouded with confusion.

After a long pause, he finally spoke.

“…Did you really kill your father?”

“You would find it satisfying if I said yes, wouldn’t you?”

Iona’s voice was calm, almost indifferent.

“But no, I didn’t. That being said, I did plan to.”

“Then why throw away a guaranteed rise to power? Why make an enemy of the Imperial Family?”

“That’s not my question to answer.”

With that, Iona turned her gaze to the man sitting beside her.

Leroy.

It wasn’t she who harbored resentment toward the Imperial Family—it was him.

What Richard had done, casting her aside to die, had not left Iona burning with rage.

Instead, it had given her absolution.

It was permission—permission to betray Richard in turn, to stand on the side she wanted, to reclaim her own life.

In a way, Richard had freed her.

He had loosened the leash, allowing her to walk away on her own terms.

‘Perhaps I should even be grateful. Because of that, I got a chance to rewrite my life.’

Amused by the thought, Iona let out a small, quiet chuckle.

The Archduke was still eyeing them both with suspicion, but that didn’t matter.

Once he heard what was coming next, his perspective would shift—at least a little.

With a light clap of her hands, Iona drew everyone’s attention back to her.

“Well then, shall we move on to the real conversation?”

-- End Of The Chapter --

 

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