Please Forget Me - Chapter 273

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

You are not a noble, you are a commoner. You were the cherished only daughter and would one day become an heiress, but at the time, Dr. Loveridge’s fortune was roughly equivalent to what I possessed at fifteen.

As I said, to my mother, that amounted to pocket change.

And… the fact that your parents’ marriage was not a happy one was also a mark against you in the eyes of a woman who had enjoyed a devoted husband.

Ah… you remember that as well.

You’re wondering what became of your mother after she left the household?

Do you remember that she was once an obscure actress? No? I see.

She went abroad and resumed her acting career. By the time we first met, she was already a beloved star in that country.

The public does not know that the actress is the wife of the Falkland royal physician, nor that she has a daughter. But among the aristocratic social circles, rumors circulated. Your father never denied them.

Your past self likely knew. Whether you kept in contact with your mother, even I don’t know.

I understand your mother. But not everyone did.

In society, you were regarded as the daughter of a woman who abandoned her family. And amid those cold gazes, your grandmother made no effort to hide her ambition. It was to turn her granddaughter into a noblewoman and elevate her own standing through you.

There was nothing about you that invited reproach. More than a few young noblemen fell for your fairy-like beauty and manners more impeccable than any aristocratic lady’s. I even heard that the Crown Prince was among them.

…Dana, I’m not saying this to please you.

You were barred from entering the royal palace from that day forward. If that incident left a strong impression on you at the time, stepping foot near the palace again might trigger your memories.

There was no great scandal. Most likely, they acted preemptively out of fear that the Crown Prince that had been utterly smitten might insist on taking a commoner as his future consort.

There were malicious rumors that you had deliberately seduced him, but anyone who knew you scoffed at such slander.

Dana… you see? Knowing the truth isn’t always a blessing. Some truths are better left unknown.

…Now you’re wondering why my mother invited you in the first place, aren’t you?

Before I answer that, I must say this: I didn’t know the real reason at the time. I only heard it from my mother later that night, after the banquet had ended and only our family remained.

“Miss Loveridge is merely bait.”

When searching for a bride, one cannot invite only noble ladies. It would be far too obvious and would quickly become fodder for gossip.

So my mother reluctantly invited young nobles of my age as well. To her, they were nothing but troublesome competitors.

To draw their attention away from the chosen candidate, she cast bait among them.

She never imagined that my eyes would be caught by that beautiful bait.

“Killian, don’t even look.”

It was already too late.

From that day on, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I had planned to lock myself away in my room or the manor library until the girls left. But without realizing it, I found myself attending gatherings, appearing at parties, or lingering near the annex where you stayed.

Fortunately, I had an excuse to speak to you.

I had to return the parasol you left behind.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t bring myself to speak.

I told you before, I learned early on to keep my mouth shut.

My parents gave birth to a genius. And then they gave birth to me.

Even Rupert, who lacked nothing, harbored an inferiority complex toward me, so objectively speaking, I was not dull. But to my parents, my elder brother, their firstborn,was the benchmark for all ability and development.

When genius is treated as average, everyone else becomes a fool.

To parents who believed all children were like my brother, I was a disappointment.

“Tsk. That one will never become a general.”

Parents who never respected my wishes—not even in choosing friends or a spouse—would hardly grant me the freedom to choose my own profession.

My father, a retired soldier, had already decided I would follow in his footsteps.

“I wanted a daughter. Not a boy who behaves like one.”

More accustomed to commanding troops than raising children, my father treated his son like a recruit.

“What are you hesitating for? Sparing a wounded horse only prolongs its suffering. Shoot it in the head. Now.”

I failed to pull the trigger at critical moments, letting prey escape despite the hounds’ hard work and I couldn’t even deliver a mercy shot to a horse beyond saving.

I must have been the worst trainee my father ever encountered.

“That boy will try to reason with an enemy charging him with a rifle and die on a bayonet.”

“Don’t talk nonsense.”

“True. How could a boy who doesn’t speak possibly reason with anyone? Write letters in the mud with a bayonet?”