Hiding the Fact That We Are Dating From the Amnesiac Villain - Chapter 16

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 16
Not knowing what trap lay in wait was maddening, yet Count Seiton desperately forced the muscles of his face upward into a smile, clinging to composure.
“Ah, yes, of course! Forgive my rudeness, Your Excellency. I hear you have selected the Seiton Family’s wine as your offering. I am deeply grateful for this great honor.”
“The wine produced in Seiton Territory is said to be quite rare. I have always wished to taste it.”
“Y-yes, that is correct. Our red wine is nothing less than the finest specialty of which Seiton Territory can boast.”
Even as he forced agreement, the Count’s voice trembled ever so slightly.
That horrifying crimson box containing the severed head of a spy kept flickering before his eyes.
Yet the Count exhaled a breath of relief inwardly and stole a glance at the man standing behind Declin.
‘So they haven’t captured the final spy yet!’
That must be why Draven stood at Declin’s side!
A loyal pawn positioned closest to Declin, faithfully reporting his every move in secret to the Count.
“Now then, quickly present the wine to His Grace.”
The Count urged his Attendant forward with triumphant confidence.
“Come to think of it, Count, I am not the sole architect of this victory.”
Suddenly, Declin uttered something strange.
“Surely my noble Knights, who have crossed the threshold between life and death alongside me, are equally worthy protagonists of this glory?”
What was he saying?
“I cannot monopolize this honor for myself alone.”
The feeling was wrong.
As expected, Declin smiled with an ominous premonition of what was to come.
“My proud Knight Draven. Drink this wine first in my stead.”
“I beg your pardon?”
The situation began to unfold strangely.
“Y-Your Excellency, I could never presume to accept such an undeserved honor….”
Draven, who had been standing like a shadow behind Declin, was flustered.
Declin would not drink it himself but instead offered it to his Knight. It was a blatant disrespect to Seiton.
“I am content, Your Excellency. How could I dare to drink your wine….”
Then a black-gloved hand pressed firmly down upon Draven’s shoulder.
“It is an order.”
“Y-Your Excellency…!”
“Does a Knight refuse his master’s command?”
“…I accept your order.”
“Glory must be shared, after all.”
Then it happened.
The maidservant holding the wine approached with careful steps.
In the moment she passed by with her head bowed, beneath the light of the chandelier, her rosy pink hair swayed gently.
Declin’s gaze, usually so composed, narrowed ever so slightly.
* * *
This is bad. This is very bad.
‘I have to deliver the wine to Hugho.’
Extracting the poison had gone smoothly enough, but now came the truly difficult part.
Freena squeezed her eyes shut.
She had hoped to lie low like a mouse until the banquet ended, but things had spiraled beyond her control!
‘There’s no other way. If I want to save Hugho, this is the only path.’
Only she would go to such lengths for a former lover.
‘You owe me your gratitude, Hugho!’
The ornate carpets lining the walls, the golden decorations, the banners planted at every stair’s end—all gleamed as if freshly arranged to celebrate the victory.
Decklin was undoubtedly the center of the Banquet Hall.
All eyes converged upon him, light reflecting off his form while the faces of others faded into shadow.
Yet their presence remained unmistakably felt.
“Isn’t Count Seiton the very one who said even the Caesar Knights deemed victory impossible?”
“Indeed. Now that the Grand Duke has returned victorious, it’s rather amusing to see him scrambling to curry favor.”
Mockery toward Count Seiton rippled through the hall.
“It merely proves His Highness’s mercy and virtue.”
Mercy? Virtue? From whom?
Freena let out an inward scoff.
“Come now, bring the ceremonial wine at once!”
It was then that Count Seiton’s voice rang out.
Freena moved forward, her head bowed low.
That short walk across the crimson carpet felt impossibly distant.
At last, my steps halted directly before Hugho.
I carefully lifted my gaze from the floor, and their silhouettes finally came into sharp focus.
Count Seiton, Hugho, and…
‘Wait…’
I froze.
‘This is Decklin?’
His appearance differed considerably from what I had imagined.
‘That’s… black hair?’
Wasn’t it closer to dark brown?
‘And those eyes aren’t red so much as crimson…’
Wait a moment.
This was the appearance of the assassinated knight, not Decklin. I looked at Hugho with trembling eyes.
His garments were far more magnificent, far more befitting a protagonist than the other’s. The wrongness deepened.
Hugho gazed at me in silence, his eyes falling upon the cup with a quiet, fathomless depth.
“…Your Highness, I present this wine with all my loyalty.”
Count Seiton spoke with a trembling voice.
“May eternal peace bless you under divine protection, and may brilliant prosperity accompany you always.”
Count Seiton’s voice wavered with fear.
“Serve this wine to my knight.”
The moment had finally arrived.
Freena’s hand trembled ever so slightly. She bowed her head deeply and obeyed the command.
She immediately offered the goblet to Hugho.
“….”
“….”
A brief silence hung heavy in that moment.
‘What is this?’
“Ahem! Did I not command that the wine be served to His Excellency’s escort knight!”
Count Seiton snapped irritably.
I had given it to him.
Freena sensed the atmosphere had shifted strangely.
When she lifted her gaze, eyes as crimson as fresh blood stared directly at her. Beneath that gaze, a small mole near the corner of his eye stood out with peculiar clarity.
Only then did a chill run down her spine.
Was something terribly wrong here?
‘No, surely not.’
It couldn’t be. It wouldn’t be.
Faced with this ominous premonition, Freena desperately denied it.
And yet.
“Never mind, Count.”
Hugho shifted his gaze unhurriedly and continued speaking.
“I’ve reconsidered. I shall drink instead. It’s only proper that the master receive his drink first—that way, even Seiton can save face.”
His tone carried neither haste nor displeasure. He smiled faintly.
“O-of course, Your Excellency, it would be my honor…!”
Watching Count Seiton defer so respectfully to Hugho, Freena felt the room spin.
‘This can’t mean Hugho’s true identity is….’
Then, long, elegant fingers grasped the goblet she had offered.
Black gloves slid smoothly along the rim of the cup. His fingertips brushed across the back of her hand ever so briefly.
“Oh.”
Startled, Freena unconsciously released her grip. By the time she regained her senses, the goblet was already in Hugho’s hand.
Those crimson eyes fixed solely upon her as he slowly brought the wine to his lips.
“It seems like only yesterday we parted ways, and yet here we are again?”
Hugho, who had been watching her in silence, spoke gently.
His eyes curved softly, and with his smile, the small teardrop mole beneath his eye became strikingly visible.
“Your Excellency.”
Count Seiton’s gaze remained fixed on Hugho.
“Do you know this lowly maidservant?”
Freena’s body went rigid.
“We’ve met before. Fate has brought us together several times.”
Count Seiton’s eyes narrowed as if trying to discern the truth.
Every eye in the Banquet Hall was upon Hugho. The chestnut-haired knight standing beside him might as well have been invisible.
Even as her mind reeled, that sight alone remained strangely, crystallinely clear.
Hugho stood there with such confidence, as though he had always been the master of this place.
‘Oh, please….’
This simply couldn’t be right!
The delusion she had carefully constructed all this time began to shatter into pieces. Now she truly understood the truth.
“Isn’t that right, Felt?”
It had to be no.
It had to be.
Cold sweat streamed down her face.
“Last time too, you seemed to be holding a wine bottle. And here you are holding one again.”
She couldn’t even recall when “last time” was. At Leyton Bridge?
She wished it were that… but he might have been referring to the moment they encountered each other when she brought a wine decanter to Count Seiton’s chambers.
Freena’s lips parted slightly, then closed again.
Hugho didn’t rush her. With his gently curved eyes exactly as they were, he waited for her answer.
The one who waited was far more sinister.
He observed Freena’s silence completely, as though he wouldn’t even grant her the leeway to stumble through some clumsy excuse.
“You seem to enjoy drinking, don’t you?”
Hugho asked gently.
“I think it would be better to abstain. It’s not good for your health.”
“Oh….”
Before Freena could even flinch in surprise, the silver tray and wine bottle were already in his hands.
In the moment her empty hands froze in mid-air, the fingertips of his black-gloved hand brushed past the outside of her wrist.
Then he casually handed them over to the Knight standing by his side.
The Knight received them obediently, as though submitting to Hugho.
With the utmost deference, as though attending to a lord.
All sound faded from her ears and her vision darkened, the Banquet Hall’s scenery becoming distant and hazy.
‘It can’t be….’
Everything pointed to a single answer.
So Hugho was….
Hugho was….
‘Hugho was… Draven?’

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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