Episode 3

The Duke stared into his daughter's brown irises. When he glanced into her warm eyes, he felt as if a part of him was springing back to life. From her golden curls to her quiet personality, Dylan was a mirror image of the Marquis—his best friend.

He gently patted her head, feeling conflicted over her existence. He knew he harboured unresolved grief. He was someone who couldn't accept the death of his best friend and carried over his expectations, fears, and guilt to Dylan.

Impersonating. Acting. Imitating. He could never ask her to do such things. Especially since he knew how much Dylan resented her father. He knew how wrong it was to expect Dylan to assume the identity of the deceased. 

Despite this, he wasn't sure if her personality was a result of his desire for her to act like the Marquis, or Dylan's actual inner-workings. The thought left him with a bitter feeling.

"Father?" she asked him.

The Duke smiled bitterly, removing his hand from her head. "Are you all set to go?" he asked her.

Dylan nodded, raising the registration papers in her hands so he could see. "I have everything here," she explained, "and I studied very hard."

"Good," he said, watching her with affectionate eyes. "Your brother will be waiting for you at the gate."

The girl flinched slightly at the mention of her brother, but quickly covered it with a wistful smile. "Yes, thank you."

"You studied a lot, so I know you'll do well."

"I won't disappoint you," she replied, leaning into his chest for a hug. "Father has done so much for me, so I promise to represent you well."

'Because if I don't, your son will take away my right to live.'3

He wrapped his arms around the girl, thinking about her words carefully. 

Dylan was a quiet child. She wasn't one to easily share her feelings, thoughts or emotions with others. She lead an austerely simple life, abstaining from material satisfaction and never asking for money. She was predictable and calm—an easy child to handle and raise. 

The Duke wondered if this was the mask his daughter wore to be perceived by others as opposed to her true self. Dylan, who never complained and always did what was asked of her, was well-disciplined and feeble. Perhaps she acted like this because she didn't want to disappoint him.

"Father?" she asked, staring at him with large brown eyes. "Are you okay? You seem to be distracted."

"I'm alright," he assured her. "Would you like a gift in celebration of your exams?"

Dylan vigorously shook her head, stepping away from his embrace. "Goodness no," she said, frowning. "Father has done so much for me. How could I ask for more? Besides, we don't know of the results yet, so it's much too early to celebrate."

The Duke frowned, unsure of how to tell her it was okay to want more. He couldn't help but feel guilty. What if she acted like this because she wasn't sure if she would be accepted for who she truly was?

He remembered what one of his vassals said to him: "I don't care how close you are to your adopted child or beloved stepdaughter. The love a parent has for their non-biological child can't be the same as the love they have for their own flesh and blood!"1

"So wrong," the Duke muttered, quietly. "Dylan is exactly like her father. How could I not love her?"5

"Now you're speaking nonsense," Dylan said with a sigh. "Are you all right?"

"Ah," the Duke let out a sigh, admiring his daughter's narrowed eyes of concern. Even if she wasn't his own flesh and blood, Dylan was his daughter through and through. "I'm alright. I'll see you off now."

***

The beautiful snow-white horses' hooves echoed against the stone road rhythmically, their coats complimenting the carriage's elegant design. On the side of the carriage, the Beaumon's family crest stood out vividly amongst the colour scheme: a powerful symbol of the Duke's status and achievements passed down generation after generation. Dylan dismounted the carriage in a graceful manner. 

The girl adjusted the light pink bonnet at the back of her head, staring up at the soaring academy walls. They shimmered a strange gold in the morning light, cutting into the blue sky lined with cotton-white clouds. She gently pushed a loose strand of hair from her face, the silk material of her glove brushing against her delicately rouged cheeks. The academy was breathtaking, like a carefully painted portrait using the finest paints she had ever seen.

"Milady," Mina, her maid, called out from beside her. "The young master was supposed to meet us here, but I can't seem find him."

'I'm not surprised. The reason why he didn't come home for four years was because of me, after all.'

When Axil found out about Dylan's adoption in the novel, he was deeply affected by his father's choices. Not only did he detest Dylan's origins as a commoner, but he also couldn't understand why his father needed another child. 

The Duke didn't communicate the reason behind Dylan's adoption, which led to a bunch of misunderstandings between the father and son. Axil assumed that Dylan was the result of a love affair between the Duke and a commoner, leading him to believe his father was unfaithful to his mother when she was alive. 

The problem grew even worse when the two met at Faerchester. Since Dylan was emotionally and psychologically wounded, she would take her pain out on the servants and other students. The entire school knew of her violent and malicious ways, leading Axil to hate her even more.

'It gets so bad that he eventually kills me.'

"It's fine," she told Mina glancing around the academy grounds for the sign-in table. "Let's just go ourselves."

Mina huffed, "Fine, but I'm going to tell His Grace as soon as we get home!"

'It's finally time.'

Episode 3 end~

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