For what felt like an eternity, the silence in the Duke's office stretched on longer than Yulianna had anticipated. So quiet that she feared her heartbeat might burst from her chest at any moment.
The only thing that kept her sane was the clock's ticking as she watched him calmly sip his tea.
After wrestling with countless escape plans to avoid meeting him, she faced him instead. Running away had never been an option for her, anyway.
"I've heard the rumors about you recently…" the Duke finally began, his glacier eyes piercing into hers.
Yulianna, unable to grasp his intention, wore a puzzled expression. "W-What kind of rumors, Father?"
Ha! I know those witches had something up their sleeves again! What could it be this time? I've hardly had any rest from coping with this new identity!
"I'm sure you know how your recklessness tainted my name last time. For you to nearly drown in that river was unlike you. However, that's no longer the case." His voice was flat, his face betraying no emotion as he looked at her with cold disregard.
"You managed to appear completely disciplined, just as you did at the recent party. That eased society's doubts about you—as a McGregor."
"Right. It's all thanks to you, Father, that I was able to reflect on my reckless actions. I'm grateful for the patience you've shown me," Yulianna replied, a discreet sigh escaping her lips.
She chose her words with care, not too flattering and not out of line. Even she was surprised by how easily her tongue found the right ones.
Perhaps the former owner of this body had been practiced in praising her father.
"I've given you nothing but expectations. I couldn't care less what you do, as long as it doesn't stain my reputation. My patience has its limits." Cold as ever, the duke said his piece.
Yulianna was right. The body's former owner had already grown accustomed to his treatment. Her nerves were far too relaxed as she watched her own father speak to her as though she were nothing more than an object. Though a faint tightness briefly gripped her chest.
"I understand, Father. I will not disappoint you again," she answered, her gaze slipping past him toward the stack of papers neatly piled on his desk.
With all those papers he had to wade through every day, it was no wonder he treated his daughter like this. Poor woman.
The duke let out a short snort, placing his cup down with a faint thud. "We shall see. You know well the consequences should you fail with your words."
His expression hardened, as though recalling something. "The Emperor's birthday is approaching. Though I am obligated to attend the celebration, I cannot. Matters of importance await me on the northern border. You will attend in my stead."
Another event to attend? I'd barely survived the last one without crumbling under the weight of anxiety! Was there truly no end to these endless obligations? And the palace was such a long journey away—by the time I arrived, I'd already be half-dead from exhaustion.
The thought of it made Yulianna stomp her foot—mentally, of course. She wasn't about to waste real energy. She had plans. Dozens of them. She'd drafted them all during her week of voluntary exile in her chamber. Her own survival plans.
"You don't seem pleased." The duke's voice soon interrupted her anxious thoughts, making her flinch.
"N-Not at all, Father. I am excited—just… a little nervous. It is the emperor's birthday, after all, and I go not only in your stead, but with the duty of honoring the McGregor name."
The duke's brow furrowed at her words. "What are you talking about? You've done this a few times already. What makes this time any different?"
I'm dead. Think, Red. Think! Think! Think! Why did I even say that? Of course, she'd attended it many times already. Dang it!
The fear Yulianna had been dreading unfurled within her. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from cursing. Every instinct screamed at her to flee, but doing so would only rouse the duke's suspicion.
"Well–"
The sudden rap at the door shattered the tension in the room. Yulianna's chest loosened, grateful for the shift in the duke's attention.
"Come in," he said curtly.
A man, perhaps fifty or so, walked in with a look that confessed he knew this interruption would please neither of them.
"Pardon the interruption, Your Grace, but I must remind you of the assembly with the lords in the tower. The meeting is set to begin in five minutes," the duke's aide informed, bowing slightly.
With a weary sigh, Duke Rohane pressed his fingers against his temples. "Have the papers for the discussion ready. We'll leave at once."
He then fixed his gaze on Yulianna. "And you—do something about that face. It's the only thing you have that's worth anything, yet you're careless enough to let an eyebag hang there like an ornament."
As if on cue, Yulianna's fingers traced her eyelids. Well, you're the very reason I look this worn out—my sleepless nights are all thanks to the dread of meeting you.
She couldn't even find the words to respond when her father's aide rescued her once again.
"Your Grace, everything's ready now."
The duke cast her one last, cutting glance before rising from his chair and striding out of the room. Only when the door closed behind him did Yulianna finally release the heavy sigh she had been holding.
I never thought having a father could be this terrifying.
*******
"Imagine that—a father fretting over an eyebag more than the daughter wearing it. Tsk." Later, Yulianna found herself lingering before the full-length mirror, studying her own eyes.
There was no denying it--the woman reflected in the glass was a beauty capable of making others stop mid-step and stare. Even her slender, sculpted figure seemed tailored to provoke envy.
"Hm. He cared so much for this too-perfect face," she muttered, letting her slender fingers trace the curve of her cheek. Her gaze shifted to her glossy, silk-black hair, and an idea took root—one that curled the corner of her lips into a smile.
"What a brilliant idea. Too bold to resist," her words lingered in the air, followed by a low, growing chuckle that soon swelled into a full, echoing laugh within her chamber.
This was no sudden whim—it was something she had been planning all along. But this time, it would not just serve her. It would crush the duke's expectations into dust.