The Villainess Duke Lady Hides Her Identity - Chapter 37

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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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37

The Party Hall doors swung open, and Craiton, the Duke himself, stepped through first with imposing dignity.
A pressure so formidable that none dared meet his gaze directly emanated from him. Even if he’d tried to conceal his station, the bearing of an Aura Master could not be hidden.
Behind him came Felence. Since he rarely showed his face at formal gatherings, everyone turned to stare at him in curiosity.
“The scoundrel second son…….”
“The Duke’s second son is trailing along behind him.”
“Could the line of Succession be changing……?”
“He’s still not graduated from the Academy yet, so we’ll have to wait and see.”
As soon as the reckless second son of Craiton House appeared, the nobility couldn’t help but murmur their observations.
He wasn’t even dressed properly—nothing but a high-collared black shirt that covered his neck, over which he’d carelessly thrown the outer jacket of his Academy uniform.
Since he was notorious for never properly fastening button-up uniforms, everyone thought this loose arrangement was probably an improvement.
He walked in with his hands shoved in his pockets, looking somewhat delinquent, but no one dared comment.
“But for the second young lord to show up at a party—what could possibly have changed his mind?”
“The Duke’s orders, well… he wasn’t exactly known for listening to those before.”
The peers who’d attended the Academy with him lowered their heads nervously at the sight of an unchanged, wayward Felence.
And behind Felence.
All eyes suddenly dropped lower.
“Why is it so wide.”
A soft, lisp-tinged voice drifted out, sweet as melted sugar.
Someone had taken great pains to adorn her—ribbons and jewels and flowers from head to toe, with nothing left undone.
A child dressed to excess with every beautiful thing one could imagine, as if to say here is everything pretty and good.
She looked entirely out of place behind the two dignified men they’d just observed.
Trailing behind two men considerably larger than most, she appeared even tinier—a little chick among giants.
There was no need to ask who she was. The adopted daughter they’d been hearing about.
Leponya Craiton.
“Much larger than I imagined.”
“Oh, large. She’s remarkably cute, r-remarkably lovely.”
Faces softened at the sight of Leponya, far cuter than anyone had expected.
It couldn’t be helped. Not only was her appearance endearing, but the way she walked—spine and shoulders held rigidly straight, footfalls silent—was flawless.
Her etiquette was so impeccable for a five-year-old that it seemed almost unbelievable.
Even those looking for fault were silenced by such perfection.
Then the Duke, who had been leading the way, came to an abrupt halt and turned sharply, positioning himself in front of Leponya.
Standing before the Duke, the five-year-old appeared even smaller. His rigid features contrasted starkly with her soft, delicate ones.
The nobility stiffened, watching the scene unfold.
The Duke’s lips parted.
“Ponya.”
An endearing diminutive tumbled from the stern man’s mouth—entirely at odds with his nature.
The nobles who had been watching tensely exchanged confused glances.
The Duke paid them no mind, reaching out to gently straighten a crooked ribbon in Leponya’s hair.
“From here on, the floor is marble, so be careful not to slip. If you fall, you might hurt your knees—don’t run, walk slowly. Actually, never mind. Just stand on my feet and we’ll walk together.”
The nobles’ faces contorted as if they were witnessing a hallucination and hearing things.
The Duke’s family devotion was legendary, but they’d never witnessed him display such tenderness toward either of his sons.
“Father is something else.”
Yet the astonishment didn’t end there.
“This is Ponya’s first party—if she walks on Father’s feet, will that harm her standing? Ponya, come here. Hold both my hands and let’s walk together.”
The notorious scoundrel who typically ignored everyone, even family, and smashed whatever irritated him, who always acted on whim and had no regard for anyone—
—that very scoundrel was asking softly if Leponya would hold his hands, smiling gently.
The nobles reacted as if they had witnessed something forbidden.
The Party Hall fell silent.
The quiet was broken by a voice as fluffy and light as a soufflé.
“No.”
She was even firm with both men.
“I can walk alone. I don’t need feet or hands.”
And she spoke casually, naturally—without formal speech. A five-year-old child was declining, in plain speech, two men before whom even the heads of high noble houses bowed and stammered: Craiton the Duke and Felence.
“Hey. You little cotton ball. Why won’t you hold my hand? There are so many people here—it’s dangerous. What if I lose you.”
“Yes, I agree with Felence. Besides, when you enter a party, an Escort is required. Since we’re family, we might as well hold hands and consider it an Escort for appearances.”
The nobility’s jaws went slack. The scene before their eyes was so unfamiliar that it was difficult to tell whether it was real or a dream.
“Sigh.”
A five-year-old child exhaled as if to say she couldn’t be stopped.
“Well, just this once.”
Her manner suggested she would grasp those two hands just once, and only then — those very hands that others desperately craved but could never seize.
“Yes, cotton puff. Well done.”
“Good thinking. Leponya. You’re clever, aren’t you.”
She was receiving praise and thanks simply for holding his hand once.
The nobility wondered if the rumors that Felence had emptied his entire fortune on his younger sister at a variety shop might be true after all.
At that moment, the steward-in-chief of Vilemon House, the party’s host, announced loudly.
“Lord Lyudeum Vilemon, Duke, entering now!”
The youngest duke at this Succession celebration was about to appear.
All the nobility turned their heads again.
A well-dressed boy descended the spiral staircase and entered the Party Hall.
Despite his tender years, he gave off the sharp, honed atmosphere of a polished blade.
His height, already above that of his peers, and his mature face only added to his composure.
Though many nobles were watching intently, he showed not the slightest hint of intimidation. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, the boy descended cleanly and halted at the place of honor.
Every gathered noble awaited the young duke’s words.
“I’m grateful to all of you for attending today’s Succession celebration. Thank you for your congratulations, thank you for coming. I hope you’ve all enjoyed yourselves.”
That was all. The nobles, who had anticipated a speech brimming with the young duke’s ambitions, were somewhat taken aback.
The young duke, having offered his brief remark, moved on without regard for the mood he’d created.
Every noble at the Succession celebration fixed their gaze on the young duke’s path.
And the place where his steps came to a halt was—
“Leponya.”
None other than Leponya Craiton. The much-talked-of princess of Craiton House.
It was a moment that would ensure Leponya Craiton remained indelibly fixed in every noble’s memory.
Lyudeum, holding the hand of a blinking, startled Leponya, seized the moment of their confusion and pressed his lips briefly to the back of her hand.
“Thank you for coming to see me. I’ve been waiting.”

* * *

What on earth was happening?
Even Leponya, who had been trained never to let surprise show on her face no matter the circumstance, couldn’t help herself this time.
With eyes wide open in shock, she stared rigidly at the figure standing before her.
It was Lyudeum Vilemon.
‘That Lyudeum… was it really this Lyudeum all along?!’
It was the same Lyudeum who had entered her bedroom twice.
‘A duke, nobility who inherited a dukedom?’
Leponya blinked vacantly, having forgotten even that Lyudeum had kissed the back of her hand.
That was when—
Whoosh!
Duke Craiton swept Leponya into his arms in one fluid motion, separating the two.
Felence stepped forward to block, shielding Leponya. Then he wiped her hand thoroughly with a handkerchief.
“Duke Vilemon. I’d hoped to offer my congratulations first, but since you’ve skipped protocol, I’ll do the same.”
Duke Craiton, holding Leponya protectively, fixed Lyudeum with a sharp glare.
Even Leponya, cradled in his arms, shuddered at the cold expression on his face.
Yet Lyudeum appeared unaffected.
“Do you know my daughter, Duke Vilemon?”
Lyudeum’s eyes turned toward Leponya.
No! Don’t pretend you know me!
Leponya bit her lip desperately and rolled her eyes from side to side.
Her instinct screamed: if she acknowledged knowing him here and now, she’d be dead.
“I wouldn’t say we know each other.”
Fortunately, Lyudeum understood the signal Leponya had sent him well.
Leponya breathed a silent sigh of relief. When their eyes met, Lyudeum caught a glimpse of her state and had to stifle a smile.
Even adults couldn’t raise their heads properly before Duke Craiton, but the young Lyudeum was different.
He not only held his head high but answered with perfect ease, and even smiled in the face of such a presence — it was remarkably bold.
“We don’t know each other yet, but I sent her an invitation to the Succession celebration first, and I’ve rushed here to make her acquaintance this way — I’d say I’m someone who wants to grow closer to her.”
Leponya drew in a sharp breath.
All eyes turned toward them.
It would have been better to simply claim they were mere acquaintances.

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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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