‘Y-you can’t just go in there!’
‘If the marquess is this pretty, why didn’t you tell us?!’
‘They took the room decorations and the tableware and sold them.’
‘They tried to put it on credit under Lord Edward’s name, and when the shop didn’t believe them, they used the marquess’s name instead… The jeweler sent an employee to confirm it.’
‘Rumors about Lord Edward are spreading among the common folk.’
I’d expected it, and I’d braced myself, but living through it firsthand—
They were an unbelievable kind of nightmare.
The “parents” were flat-out garbage that wasn’t worth saving. The younger siblings were… lacking maturity by a lot. But no matter what, they all caused trouble just the same.
The only difference is whether they understand they’re causing trouble… or they don’t.
And aside from what I heard through the servants, I dealt with everything that happened in front of me the same way—
By tearing into Edward.
I truly, truly didn’t want to.
But I didn’t have a choice.
That was the villain’s role.
Even so, I’d shown restraint. I’d spoken harshly, sure, but compared to what they’d done, this was nothing. Ruining my reputation, stealing my things, even sneaking into my room—
Next time they’ll follow me into the bath.
Going back and forth must be annoying. Why don’t you just share my room from now on? There’s an old nurse’s room you can use.
You took my handkerchief? Throw it out. I don’t use anything twice once it’s dirty.
At that point, it’s not a person. It’s an animal.
I’m sick of you. I’ve never seen anything so revolting.
That last one might sound like too much, but honestly?
What they did was worse.
Waltzing into my late sister’s room without permission, putting on the dead woman’s dresses and accessories, and playing princess—
That was genuinely the worst.
I’d told them again and again that it was a place they were never allowed to enter.
And besides, everyone who mattered knew it: my dead parents and sister were my greatest weakness.
A reaction like this was necessary.
“Seriously… they were exhausting.”
But as of yesterday, even that was over.
Not long after the final incident, Duke Grenville came to see me.
And Sasha—delighted—handed Edward and his family over to him.
Maybe the duke and Edward had already talked it out. (I assumed they’d met while Edward was out cleaning up his family’s mess.)
Either way, Edward was already prepared to leave.
Before departing the estate, Edward came to see Sasha. He bowed deeply and apologized.
‘I’m sorry—for everything up until now.’
Why did he keep cleaning up his family’s mess to the end?
That sense of responsibility was admirable, but he didn’t need to bind himself in chains like this.
‘You don’t need to apologize for something that isn’t your fault.’
‘It’s not my family I’m apologizing for… It’s my existence.’
That was unexpected.
Then again, while staying in the marquessate, it was hard not to notice the relationship between Sasha and the emperor.
Still… if we wouldn’t see each other for a while, I didn’t like parting like this.
‘And what about a “thank you”?’
Shamelessly, I demanded gratitude on top of the apology.
Just like the day I’d slapped the back of his hand, Edward’s eyes widened.
With that face, he almost looked younger.
I swallowed my laughter—and unlike during his apology, Edward looked straight at Sasha’s face as he spoke.
‘Thank you.’
Facing those unwavering, sharp gold eyes—so clear it made you flinch—felt oddly embarrassing after I’d been the one to demand it. Sasha hurried him out of the study, comforting himself that at least the ending hadn’t been bad.
And so, Sasha handed them off to Duke Grenville with a lightened heart.
But that didn’t mean the hardship was over.
Because now—
Now the real villain life was about to begin.
That’s right. Up until now, Sasha’s “villainy” had only been a tasting menu.
Things that made the other person feel wronged, angry, furious—but didn’t threaten their life.
From here on…
There would be real blood.
The moment Edward and his family left, Sasha stormed into the palace and stared down at the box he’d received from the emperor.
The reason he’d accepted Edward and his family in the first place.
And the reason he would bare his teeth and block Edward’s path with every ounce of malice he could muster.
It was his late sister’s belongings—kept within the imperial family.
In the original, and for me as well: when I heard my sister had died, I’d fainted, then woken up in a daze. I hadn’t even thought to secure her things.
The emperor had used them as collateral to make Sasha take Edward in.
And because there was a trace of my sister there—something I’d never even imagined existed—
I’d drawn on every scrap of patience I had to endure them.
Among what she’d left behind were valuables enough to fill an entire room and then some.
But Sasha sat alone in his room with only this single box—the one that mattered most.
He brushed his fingers over the surface, where gray dust had settled thickly.
Unlike the valuables that had at least received some care, this was a box neither the emperor nor the servants had paid any attention to—
A box filled with miscellaneous junk.
“So it’s this.”
Because the novel was mostly told from Edward’s point of view, there were limits to what it explained about Sasha—even as the main villain.
I knew Sasha tried to kill Edward because of something he received through a deal with the emperor.
But I’d never known exactly what drove him to that choice.
With his heart pounding, Sasha opened the box.
“So in here… the diary—”
A diary written by my sister, who’d lived in the palace from twenty-one to twenty-four—first as crown princess, then as empress.
I wanted to read from page one, carefully.
But I should confirm what I’d been most curious about since becoming Sasha first.
Sasha took a deep breath, opened the diary to the very end—
The last page the original Sasha had read, the page that made him erupt with violent rage.
[Randolph, just die.
May this whole damn imperial family rot and collapse!]
…What?
“That’s it?”
No matter how hard I rubbed my eyes, no matter how many times I closed and reopened the diary, the contents didn’t change.
I could’ve predicted that their relationship wasn’t good. With an emperor like that, of course it wouldn’t be.
I even knew the type he was: a man who wouldn’t yield even to a wife much younger than him, who would only snap and scrape at her nerves.
But if Sasha went so far as to start a rebellion, shouldn’t there be something more concrete? Something more serious written here?
And this was really all?
Am I remembering wrong?
Was it written at the beginning? Somewhere else?
But skimming quickly through a diary that barely had any pages for something supposedly written over four years—
Sasha had to accept it.
This wasn’t the refined journal of an elegant empress.
It was a scribble pad.
A vent book, where the noblest of nobles—an empress—dumped her raw inner thoughts whenever she couldn’t swallow her anger.
[You call yourself an emperor?]
[I’m the empress, you bastard. Who are you to lecture me?]
[What the hell is wrong with you.]
[I want to rip your mouth open.]
[You’re disgustingly bad at this.]
Pages packed with insults—for the emperor, the nobles, the dowager, the in-laws.
“Sasha’s sister… so the temper really was hereditary.”
Closing the diary with not a single clean page, Sasha felt hollow.
Sasha started a rebellion over this?
Because his sister wrote that the emperor should die and the imperial family should collapse?
“There’s being devoted to your sister… and then there’s this.”
He tormented Edward—tormented Edward’s people—over something like this?
When people asked why you did it, you used to stare into space with those sorrow-soaked eyes. Like you had some enormous, tragic reason you couldn’t speak of. Like you were about to say ‘my sister—’ and then choke on the words!
So I’d thought there had to be something huge. Something unspeakable.
But Sasha couldn’t open his mouth for a completely different reason.
And honestly—
I probably wouldn’t be able to either.
If someone asked why I tried so hard to kill Edward, I’d have to look for my “beloved sister” with tragic eyes.
“…I can’t let anyone find out. Ever.”
Sasha decided to hide the diary—tucked away deep, where no one would ever discover it.
*****
While Sasha—after discovering that “diary” disguised as scribbles—was recruiting nobles and vowing to erase the Lacarte imperial family entirely…
Duke Grenville was spending his days polishing Edward into a prince, and keeping the family on a tight leash.
Just as more and more people began to agree with Sasha, just as that agreement started solidifying into a faction—
Duke Grenville held a party.
Sasha, who’d heard occasional updates about Edward, already knew what this party was for.
“So the rumors were true?”
“Then the rumor that the rising nobles led by Duke Grenville support that man, too…?”
“My god—twenty-three? If His Majesty has a child that grown, then at seventeen he must’ve—”
“Shh!”
Watching Edward—standing at the center of the bustling party, looking every bit like a proper royal—felt strangely moving.
Wow. That hair really does lie flat now.
As I admired his hair in honest awe, Duke Grenville seemed to notice my gaze. He brought Edward over to Sasha.
“Marquess Ambrose.”
“Duke Grenville.”
“You already know, of course, but it’s best to introduce him properly again.”
Sasha turned to Edward, who stood proudly at the duke’s side.
Up close, he truly looked like a completely different person from a few months ago.
His black hair had been trimmed and neatly styled, revealing the sharp line of his jaw, his ears, the back of his neck—making his handsome face impossible to miss.
A straight brow, a high nose bridge, deep-shadowed eyes, thin lips, an angular jaw—
And a superb physique showcased by clothes tailored perfectly to his body.
Edward Lacarte, with his slightly fierce impression and single-lidded eyes, looked like a predator incarnate.
Especially those glittering gold eyes.
“Is there really any need? Just because the outside has changed doesn’t mean the inside has.”
Everything else might have been honed and shaped, but those eyes—like someone had scooped up the sun’s sparkle and poured it into them—were Edward’s original light.
What would he say?
Would he greet me proudly, like in the original?
“I am Edward Lacarte.”
Of course.
The protagonist who’d vowed, while introducing himself to Sasha, that he would truly become Lacarte.
And what followed—
“Pleased to meet you, Sasha… Marquess Ambrose.”
Sasha stared down at the hand offered for a handshake.
Edward had become someone entirely different—and I wanted, reflexively, to take his hand, to shake it, to feel proud.
But I couldn’t.
“Ha.”
Letting out a chill little laugh, Sasha struck the offered hand away.
No—he had to strike it away.
So why did it turn out like this?
As if he’d expected it, Edward caught Sasha’s hand instead—then shook it.
“Please take care of me from now on.”
Forward, aren’t you.
It was a little different from the original, but not bad.
But now it was starting to hurt, so it’d be nice if he’d loosen his grip a bit.
Sasha forced his expression smooth and flicked his eyes down at the hand held tightly in Edward’s grasp.