The Villainess Duke Lady Hides Her Identity - Chapter 69

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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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Episode 69

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“Where is my eldest daughter?”
“That is… we have not yet located her.”
Fretes turned this way and that before the mirror, studying his reflection. The attendant standing behind him, reporting with a tense expression, continued.
“She is quite clever. It appears she has hidden herself deliberately and thoroughly.”
“Of course she has. She was always so capable, her grades so excellent, I was so fond of her. And that strange power I felt emanating from her… but never mind that now. To think she would betray me like this.”
“…….”
“Is it not laughable? I pulled her back from the brink of death, gave her a warm bed and plenty of food, raised her with care—and now she speaks of finding her own path and leaving. Such ingratitude. She understands nothing of what was done for her.”
“…Your Holiness is correct.”
“This is why God instructs that one should not give to those who know nothing of gratitude.”
“We are investigating the possibility that she has altered her appearance. All women of similar build and age are being examined.”
“Is that truly necessary?”
“Your Holiness?”
Fretes turned from the mirror and extended his hand forward. The waiting attendants slowly poured holy water over it.
After washing his hands with the holy water, Fretes swept his hair back completely.
“If you find anyone who appears to be my eldest daughter, simply kill her.”
“…Forgive me?”
“But then again, how did my eldest daughter look? I cannot quite recall.”
“She has curly, silver hair, red eyes, is small in stature, and came of age this year….”
“That is enough. Why describe her to me? Any woman fitting that description—kill her. If you kill enough of them, word will spread. Then fear may drive her to show herself, yes?”
Fretes laughed thinly. In any case, the sacrifice of the few for the greater good was written in God’s own words from ages past, so surely He would understand and forgive it all.
“If specific victims appear in succession, it will be recognized as serial murder, and the House of Craitan, as our protectors, may move to hunt the culprit.”
“That would be… troublesome. Tsk.”
“If you will allow us a little more time, we shall certainly find her.”
Fretes nodded at his attendant’s words.
“Once you have found her, kill her at once. Relay this command to everyone. She is no longer of use.”
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
The House of Craitan, he thought.
“What of the Craitan Family Heirloom?”
“We have assigned the task to your fourth daughter.”
“My fourth.”
Fretes tilted his head, searching his memory.
“Who was the fourth again?”
Though he called them all daughters or sons, Fretes remembered not a single name or face among them.
To him, they were nothing more than interchangeable parts, to be discarded or replaced at any moment.
“I cannot recall her name either. The fourth has black hair and red eyes.”
“I see. My memory fails me. If she completes her task properly, I shall remember her then. So—has my fourth daughter begun her mission?”
“It appears the newly adopted false Lady has made the task difficult to begin. Since the adoption, security within the Estate has been tightened, making approach challenging.”
“Ah. That adopted false Lady. How old is she said to be?”
“From what we have gathered, she is five years old. The first and second sons have reportedly returned to the Estate and lavish such affection upon her that they scarcely leave her side—though this is hearsay and requires confirmation.”
Fretes halted mid-stride down the Long Corridor, his expression one of disbelief.
“Is not Craitan’s first son said to be like a emotionless killing machine, and his second son an absolute ruffian?”
“Yes.”
“Ha! So she has managed to secure her place among such creatures.”
Fretes straightened his clothes and let out a hollow laugh.
“A mere five-year-old could not have captivated the entire House of Craitan alone. She must have backing. It is a pity we did not acquire such a child ourselves. What is her name?”
“She is called Reponya Craitan.”
…Reponya, Reponya.
“I feel I have heard that name before somewhere. What is it?”
Fretes tilted his head in thought. His attendant mimicked the gesture, tilting his head slightly as well, but soon shook it.
“It is a common name, Your Holiness.”
“Perhaps so. …In any case, if my fourth daughter requires anything, provide it without hesitation.”
Having given his command to the attendant, Fretes walked to the end of the Long Corridor and made his way toward the Terrace.
“Aaaaaah! Your Holiness!”
When Pope Fretes appeared, the Imperial Citizens waiting below the Terrace erupted in fervent cheers.
Pope Fretes answered their calls with a benevolent smile, waving his hand like a merciful deity bestowing favor upon mortals.
Like an indulgent god deigning to look down upon humanity.

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The Harvest Festival in the Capital City drew closer with each passing day. But Reponya, having lost all interest after hearing the Pope would offer prayers of gratitude to the divine, felt no curiosity about it.
Meanwhile, the dresses she had commissioned from the Clothing Workshop were all complete.
“We used the cold air from Dragon’s Breath Gorge, rapidly frozen and processed into ornaments for the dress. The processing is finished, so there’s no risk of melting.”
The dresses were simply extraordinary, every single one.
“The very first sunlight to rise over the continent was captured in a glass bottle, solidified, and transformed into brilliant powder for use in the dress.”
It was astounding enough to think these artisans had truly lost their minds.
“I used a tool that gathers moonlight and soaked the fabric in moonbeams for ten days. During the day it appears ordinary, since the moon cannot shine then, but at night the moonlight absorbed into the fabric is treated to glow.”
They had processed cold air, transformed sunlight into powder, and even created dresses using moonlight and starlight.
Every piece clearly employed Magic Stone-Embedded Tools. Since Duke Craitan had offered to fund the entire project, it seemed they had all broken free from their chains and run wild with possibility.
The dresses, infused with nature itself, had long transcended what could be called mere garments.
Then Havelian, who had been studying the dress Reponya wore, opened his lips.
“Solidifying sunlight to transform it into brilliant powder for use in a dress—isn’t that the same technique used in the Imperial Princess’s dress on her first birthday?”
“Yes, that’s correct. However, at that time it was the first use of the method, so they could not align the sunlight’s shimmering with precision. But for Lady Reponya’s dress, we captured the very first sunlight to rise over the continent, collecting pure and radiant light just as described.”
Wait—there’s another dress like this? Nobility’s extravagance truly surpasses imagination. This was the day all of Reponya’s preconceived notions, thinking the dresses would simply be made of fabric, shattered completely.
“Reponya.”
“Huh? Y-yes?”
“What do you think? It should be comfortable for you, and most importantly, you should like it.”
Perhaps because such spending seemed unreasonable, the dress was truly beautiful—not merely beautiful, but comfortable in a way that seemed to consider the wearer’s needs.
‘There’s a reason this is called the Empire’s finest Clothing Workshop.’
But it was far too much for Reponya.
‘Can I really say I like it?’
Did she dare speak so boldly? Reponya fidgeted. Duke Craitan, who had been watching her for some time, finally spoke.
“I have the feeling it doesn’t quite satisfy my daughter’s taste.”
“Gasp!”
When had he said such a thing? Reponya shook her head frantically, her eyes wide with alarm.
The Clothing Workshop madams, who had presented their dresses with confidence, all turned to look at Reponya, and without hesitation bowed deeply to meet her eyes.
“Lady Reponya. We humbly apologize for failing to reflect your tastes fully. If you would share your preferences, we shall remake the dress properly this time.”
“Lady Reponya. We are ashamed for presuming to know your tastes. If you would tell us your favorite colors and what you prefer, we shall present you with the finest dress.”
“Lady Reponya. Please, do not worry. We are delighted to gradually come to know you in this way. We would be grateful if you would give us the opportunity to draw one step closer to you.”
She suddenly felt like the most demanding customer imaginable. For them to have crafted such a perfect dress only to have her dissatisfied seemed impossible.
Reponya glanced at the workshop madams before swiftly turning her gaze to Duke Craitan.
“I-I-I l-…”
“You l…?”
“I l-love it. It’s s-so beautiful.”
Reponya’s face burned hot. It was the first time she had openly expressed that she liked something, that it pleased her, and it felt deeply uncomfortable.
“Is that so?”
Duke Craitan replied with utter ease.
“Do you want to have it?”
“Th-that is, w-well, sh-should I?”
“Should I buy it for you?”
Reponya drew a sharp breath. At the question of whether he would buy it, she, an ordinary person at heart, found herself instinctively calculating the price.
A sum beyond all reckoning. Even if Reponya died and came back to life a hundred times over, her fortune could never cover such an amount.
It was a beautiful dress. Absolutely gorgeous, with her own tastes woven deeply throughout.
Did she want to have it? Of course she did. Who in the world wouldn’t want this?
“Reponya. Should I buy it for you?”
Duke Craitan pressed again, as if he absolutely had to hear her answer.
Reponya hesitated. As she swallowed hard and bit her dry lips, Duke Craitan turned to face the workshop madams.
“It seems my daughter’s taste is not quite satisfied enough for her to want or desire to own it….”
“No! Y-yes! Yes! Please buy it!”
Reponya cried out in panic and alarm. It was the first time she had ever shouted so passionately.
“I w-want it! Yes! It’s m-mine! Please buy it!”
The moment the words burst out, Duke Craitan reached out with his large hand and gently stroked Reponya’s head.
“Well done, Reponya. If you ever want something in the future, you should speak like that.”
Duke Craitan gestured with his hand. A butler appeared carrying three enormous Gold Coin Chests and set them down with heavy thuds—one before each of the workshop madams.
“So you’re saying I should buy it because my daughter likes it.”
It was the first purchase of that sort in Reponya’s entire life.

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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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