About That One-Night Stand Being the Mastermind.

Chapter 4

Another month passed like that.

Claiming she had lost her memory and knew nothing proved to be an extremely useful excuse. Thanks to it, she managed to slip past every crisis whenever people came to see her.

If I don’t know, what can they possibly do about it?

Still, it was suffocating.

The room was thick with the scent of medicinal herbs, and even ventilation was kept to an absolute minimum—they never opened all the windows at once. Their determination to deny her even the smallest chance to escape was almost impressive. More than anything, being confined to her room under the excuse that she needed rest was unbearably frustrating.

She could have anything placed into her hands with a flick of her finger, yet she wasn’t allowed to step outside. It was no different from a beautifully decorated prison. Even so, a whole month was too much.

No—counting the first week of confusion, it had been nearly a month and a half.

Unable to stand it any longer, Litia dragged herself listlessly across the room, then stood once everyone had left. She began searching for the diary again.

The room was enormous, attendants checked on her frequently, and the medicine prescribed by her physician made her drowsy—so properly searching the room hadn’t been easy.

She searched the desk drawers, the bedside table, inside the wardrobe—everywhere—but found nothing. With a sinking feeling, she crawled under the bed as a last resort. There, wedged between the bed frame, was a small book.

“Ha… something this simple.”

Brushing back her disheveled hair, Litia opened the diary.

The neat handwriting—not a trace of careless scrawling—felt like a perfect reflection of its owner’s personality.

“Let’s see…”

Surely there had to be something useful written here. She flipped to the back, starting with the most recent entries.

Even those were already nearly two months old.

February 7, Year 293

I saw a white butterfly today.
Fluttering about, it looked so free.
I wish I could be like that.

February 6, Year 293

Father was displeased again.
Running away again—right in front of everyone.

Why am I always like this?
But that place was so suffocating. It hurt so much.

Is there even anyone who wants me to exist?
I wish I could just disappear.

February 4, Year 293

Why did God give me this power?

I don’t want to do anything.

I wonder what Sir Jit is doing. He told me to contact him.
I shouldn’t have accepted his confession. It makes me so uncomfortable.

As expected, the pages were filled with nothing but gloomy thoughts. She flipped ahead several pages.

January 3, Year 293

I saw an Orb for the first time today. It was from afar, but… are they really bad people? They looked just like us.

Still, thanks to His Highness the Crown Prince, I was able to escape discomfort today. I feel sorry and grateful every time.

I wish every day were like today.

November 29, Year 292

Jit Tresh confessed to me. It was my first confession, so I panicked.

But I’ve only met him a few times—I don’t really know him. What should I do…?

I’ll apologize to him properly tomorrow.

November 18, Year 292

I visited the temple today. It was nice being able to open my heart to His Holiness.
But what was that faint darkness I felt? Did he go somewhere briefly?
I must have imagined it… right?

Knock, knock.

At the sound of knocking, Litia hurriedly returned the diary to its place, stood up, and quickly smoothed her hair.

“Tia, it’s Father.”

When she opened the door, the Duke of Mont stood there, looking down at her with a somewhat indifferent expression.

The moment their eyes met, his face shifted into one of concern—though it felt rehearsed.

“Ah, please come in.”

“Yes. Have you been resting well?”

The Duke sat on the sofa. Litia followed and took the seat across from him.

“Yes, of course.”

“How’s your health?”

“I’ve been resting comfortably, so I feel much better.”

“That’s good. You must have been frustrated. How about stepping out for some fresh air with your father today?”

“Fresh air?”

Was he finally allowing her to go out?

The fact that it would be with her father gave her pause, but still—being able to leave the room at all was better than nothing.

“Yes. There’s somewhere we can go together. A commemorative festival has started today at Ateon Hall and will last for a month. You’ll soon be busy with the Light Oracle, so let’s at least attend the evening banquet and get some air.”

A festival.

She remembered reading that the year of the Light Oracle was accompanied by extravagant celebrations. This must have been one of them.

Even when she’d first read about it, she’d been astonished.

This banquet was only the beginning.

The commemorative festival—including the eve celebration—lasted a month, followed by another month of after-festivities once the oracle concluded. Two full months of celebration.

Even if it happened only once every ten years and was the largest event in Ateon, two months felt excessive.

And the Duke wasn’t really taking his stifled daughter out for her sake—he was taking her to show society that the daughter rumored to have caused a scandal was perfectly fine.

Still, this was the only way out right now.

If she refused, she had no idea when the ban would be lifted. She had nothing to her name at the moment, so placating the most powerful man in the house—the Duke of Mont—was the only way to gain any leverage.

Now that she was Litia, she had to carve out her own path to survival.

Besides, the original Litia would have timidly agreed without hesitation.

“I’d love to. I’ve been so cooped up—thank you, Father.”

Lowering her gaze, Litia answered obediently. The Duke’s lips curved upward in satisfaction.

Seeing his face, she felt oddly conflicted. How little attention had he paid to his daughter, not even realizing she’d changed? And yet, the sight eased her heart just a little. The guilt of having taken someone else’s body, the fear of being discovered—it all softened.

“I’m glad you’re pleased. Then get ready, and we’ll meet at eight.”

“Yes, Father. I’ll be ready.”

Having said all he needed, the Duke rose without hesitation.

As she watched his back retreat, Litia discreetly flicked her middle finger at him—just once—then waited for the attendant who would help her dress.

“Miss… do you remember me? I’m Emilia…”

The woman who introduced herself looked at her with tear-filled eyes. Emilia—the maid who had been punished and confined since the day Litia fell into the lake. She was also the only survivor among the servants and aides who had attended Litia that day.

She had chestnut-brown hair tied into two neat braids reaching her waist, now plastered messily to her tear-soaked face.

“Ah… I lost my memory. I’m sorry.”

“No, no—it’s my fault… If only I’d listened to you back then… I’m so sorry, Miss. I thought you’d never wake up… You were so cold in that lake…”

She broke down completely.

As Litia gently soothed her, she tilted her head. Maybe this was a chance to learn more about what had happened.

“What do you mean—listened to me? Did I ask you for something?”

“Sniff… that is…”

“It’s okay. Tell me. I don’t remember anything.”

Emilia gasped for breath, then slowly spoke.

“You said… you wanted to run away. But I was powerless… I’m so sorry. I truly thought you were gone forever… when I saw you in the lake…”

Unable to continue, Emilia collapsed to her knees, clutching the hem of Litia’s dress and apologizing over and over as she cried.

“It’s okay. I won’t make that choice again.”

“…Really? You promise? You won’t do something so frightening ever again?”

Litia nodded, reassuring her.

Emilia cried on, saying she’d been terrified, plagued by nightmares every night.

“Of course. So… will you help me get dressed? And stay by my side to help me recover my memories?”

Emilia wiped her face and jumped to her feet. Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks soaked.

“Yes! Of course! I’ll go prepare your dress right away!”

Watching Emilia hurry out, Litia slowly stood.

The chandeliers illuminating Ateon Hall—the grandest banquet hall—sparkled like cascading starlight.

It was a space created solely for celebration, as if all the splendor in the world had been gathered in one place.

The central hall alone was so vast that walking from one wall to the other took real effort. And when you included the guest rooms and entertainment spaces, its full size was impossible to imagine.

Beneath the dazzling chandeliers—

Even more dazzling dresses paraded through the space like peacocks.

Among them, however, was a woman who seemed to announce herself as an uninvited guest.

Litia Mont—the youngest daughter of House Mont and the most talked-about young lady in the Ateon Empire.

Accompanied by her father, the Duke of Mont, and Ellar, Litia entered to the majestic yet delicate sound of a harp.

“His Grace the Duke of Mont, Count Bazenti, and Lady Litia Mont enter!”

The lively atmosphere froze instantly, as if cold water had been poured over it. Countless eyes fixed on Litia in shock.

“…She looks perfectly fine.”

“Maybe it really was just a rumor.”

Whispers rippled through the hall.

Litia felt the Duke’s arm tense where she held it. He clicked his tongue.

“I’m fine, Father.”

She reassured him softly. His expression relaxed.

“Do not let it show that you’ve lost your memory.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Using his daughter like an accessory, the Duke cut through the crowd. Among the gazes, some clung to her with particular hostility—eyes peering over fans, sharp and venomous.

Litia passed through them without flinching.

They were all thinking the same thing.

She tried to kill herself by jumping into a lake—and yet she’s alive and well?

Clenching her fist, Litia steadied herself.

She had fought too hard for this chance.

She lifted her chin defiantly.

She would survive here—no matter what.