The Duke’s Imposter Sister - Chapter 41

Chapter 41 – Helpless Circumstances (1) 

For a moment, she couldn’t comprehend his words.

Vianut didn’t find the horseman? It was all a trap…?

“Vianut was lying about how he found him. He knew you would tell me and was planning to capture and interrogate one of my men after I released them to search for the horseman. He must’ve been very curious about who you actually are.”

Once he finished speaking, Stephan slowly scanned Gris. Then, he squinted his eyes and voiced his suspicions.

“But why did he not torture you instead? He must have already known you aren’t Yuliana. Has Sir Byrenhag, this virgin boy, finally seen the light and decided to be generous to a lady?”

He said it sarcastically, but then Quentin entered the corridor. Realizing their time was up, Stephan decided to quickly finish what he wanted to say.

“The assassin that was captured was, unfortunately, one of the men that accompanied me to the brothel. By now, he will know you’re a prostitute from a wh*reh*use, not Yuliana from the cabins.”

When he finished speaking those words, Quentin approached closer to them. As the sound of his footsteps neared them, Gris shuddered, already hearing the sound of screeching metal landing on her neck in her mind. Thus, when Quentin arrived in front of Stephan, her lips began to quiver.

“Sir Byrenhag is calling for you,” he said coldly.

Expecting that, Stephan began to walk without flinching. But Quentin didn’t take the lead as he stood still, staring at Gris.

“Both of you.”

Quentin’s friendly eyes that used to look at her kindly were now as cold as ice. He seemed to be disgusted that she turned out to be a lowly woman he could buy for a couple of coins.

Although she had never had a physical relationship with a man before, she didn’t want to tire herself by explaining she wasn’t a prostitute. Besides, not only would they not believe her words, it would also mean she despised those women who had been given no choice… of which some had been her companions for the past eleven years.

She didn’t want to do that to them, who were left to the cruel fate of selling their bodies just to survive. Anyhow, Stephan indeed got her out of a brothel. So, there was no point in pretending she was detached from that kind of life.

“Okay…”

Gris silently followed Quentin. Though she almost cried at the knowledge that her efforts to survive up until now were in vain, she swallowed back her tears, not allowing them to fall. She knew that once they fell, she wouldn’t be able to control them.

Despite that, she still held onto the hope her life might be spared. Though it was a futile thing, wasn’t it because of hope that she managed to survive all these years? Nevertheless, if only she had died with her parents that day… maybe she wouldn’t have had to go through all those harsh years.

While feeling dismayed, she suddenly realized she had already stepped into Vianut’s room.

Vianut was sitting in a chair, which was placed in the center of the room. His arms on the backrest and his legs crossed, he squinted his eyes like a spectator waiting for a show to unfold.

Normally, he looked like a virtuous man, oozing holiness. But today, his cold eyes made Gris shake in terror. There was a simmering anger, palpable beneath the surface.

Gris lowered her head and her lips quivered. Then suddenly, Quentin pushed her calves and forced her to kneel.

Her gaze dropped instantly. She finally felt things had turned back to the past—when men looked at her from above like she was dirt, while she had to helplessly stare down at the filthy floor.

Then, a low voice rang out over her head.

“Do you have anything to say?”

The question was directed at Stephan.

Stephan, who was standing upright beside her, finally spoke.

“Yes, I do,” he said, full of certainty that Vianut wouldn’t kill his own uncle.

“I didn’t bring Yuliana from a cabin. I found her in a brothel in Orphadame. I had no choice but to hide her background for the sake of this family.”

“…”

“But this girl is Yuliana. I can guarantee you.”

Unfortunately, before he could even finish explaining, Vianut smirked. A sarcastic one that basically told everyone who saw it that he didn’t think Stephan’s explanation was worth a dime.

Vianut then placed his large hands before his chest. Suddenly, there was a screeching sound of metal being moved, hurting Gris’ eardrums.

Gris then glanced at Vianut and saw a dagger in his hand.

Does he carry a knife at all times to kill someone at his convenience?

Vianut relaxed his crossed legs and leaned his upper body toward Gris. Without any warning, he placed a knife that was sharp enough to slice through her bone on her jaw. He then used the knife to lift her chin.

So, with no other choice, her eyes rose up from the ground and looked at Vianut in front of her. His black hair was currently slicked to one side, showing off his pale forehead.

“Why don’t you tell me yourself?” he said with steely eyes.

Gris was scared the knife might slice through her neck if she flinched and began to hyperventilate. However, she grit her teeth.

Though she wanted to blurt out the truth about Stephan’s plan, she couldn’t do it even with death staring at her face, because she was fearful of Stephan’s revenge…

What if Stephan hurts the others in the brothel?

As such, Gris tightly shut her shuddering lips. Although it would be lonely, at least she wanted to die alone, sparing the others from potential suffering. Therefore, she could only cry as she shouted her thoughts through her eyes.

‘Yes, I am a prostitute as you know, but I didn’t want this luxurious life of yours by pretending to be your sister. I just wanted some freedom, something you and your uncle and everyone in this mansion take for granted. Something that someone, oddly enough, must risk their life for.

All I wanted was the precious freedom and to meet the only person that looked for me… Because at least to that person, I could be Gris Benedict, not some nameless whore from a brothel.

Oh, I have been too ambitious. How dare I want to be more than a lump of flesh to be used for satisfying sexual desires. How dare I want to become a person someone can lean on. How dare I want to say a small hello to Johannes.’