I'll Abandon the Fake Savior (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 11

At that moment, in Jorgen’s bedroom.

“You may speak.”

Carly, having thoroughly inspected the room that had long stood empty, bowed her head slightly and spoke. Her words could now be trusted.

After all, as she’d mentioned in the carriage, Carly was a seasoned knight who had wielded a sword for a full thirty years.

‘Now that I think of it, I finally remember. Around five years ago—the sudden resignation of Carly Cherne, commander of the Imperial Capital Knights’ First Division.’

She was a formidable talent who, despite the prevailing prejudice against female knights—so strong there was even a saying about it—had risen proudly to the rank of commander through skill alone. A staunch supporter of the Crown Prince, she had also been the one most outraged at the Empress’s death.

‘I was rather surprised to hear that someone like her had abruptly retired and vanished from sight.’

Never would I have guessed she’d be living as a mercenary, taking jobs arranged by the information guild called Coperador.

I couldn’t fathom why such a proud Imperial Capital knight would abandon the Crown Prince and take up mercenary work—but for Yuricien, it was an incredibly fortunate turn of events.

‘With someone as skilled as Carly, Father will surely be protected from my stepmother and Lafine’s clutches.’

After all, losing all his memories meant he’d even forgotten his extraordinary swordsmanship.

When Yuricien sighed in relief, Jorgen, who had been pretending to sleep with his eyes tightly shut in bed, also rose from his seat.

“Let me prop up your pillow.”

“Oh, th-tha… Ahem.”

Andersen quickly assisted him. Jorgen, seemingly awkward with such kindness, opened his mouth to mumble something but then closed it again—Yuricien’s earnest warning from the carriage echoing in his mind.

[Pretend you haven’t lost your memory. Only then will they fear you, Father.] [Th-that’s difficult… No, it is difficult, child. I seem to lack the talent for deceiving others.] [Not at all. Just now, you truly sounded like Father. To be precise, Father deceived everyone except me. The great Windsor is a position that can never be upheld by order and honesty alone.]

Seeing Jorgen’s face darken with worry, Yuricien perched on the edge of the chair and took his hand. Andersen had already cleaned it thoroughly; now generously coated in cream, it felt soft and smooth. As Yuricien gently stroked the back of Jorgen’s hand, her eyes shone with determination.

[Your memories will return soon. I’m certain. So please, just hold on a little longer. All right?] [Hmm…]

Jorgen let out a low groan, uncertain if he could manage it—but his answer was already decided. He wanted to grasp the small, slender hand tightly holding his own.

He longed to recover his memories as soon as possible, to share the burden this young woman carried, and to embrace her shoulders in comfort, telling her how much she’d endured.

[All right. I understand. I’ll keep trying—not just as far as I can, but until I succeed.] [Yes. Thank you, Father. Let’s do our best together. Didn’t the Coperador Guild Master say that to recover memories, one should revisit places they used to live or enjoy? Let’s walk those places together and search for your memories.]

Yuricien spoke those words, her eyes glistening with moisture.

Hearing Jorgen correct himself, Yuricien asked, sounding slightly uneasy.

“The conversation we had in the carriage… you remember it all, right?”

“Yes, of course. Just a moment ago, seeing that woman’s face made me so angry my hands trembled.”

Jorgen clenched his teeth as he answered, regardless of her worries.

On their way back, Jorgen had heard everything about Yuricien’s situation from her. Yuricien was someone who censored herself heavily—she kept simplifying her story, stripping away personal feelings to relay only objective facts, prompting Andersen to interject his own opinions several times.

“How much the young lady cried,” or “How much pain the young lady was in at that moment.”

Each time, Yuricien would say her emotions seemed of little use in conveying the situation, leaving Andersen frustrated. When she recounted the terrible things Heathcliff had done to her, Carly also stepped in.

[Expressing your feelings makes it more vivid. It also helps convey the severity of the incident. I believe His Grace needs that vividness.]

After that, Yuricien gradually began adding her personal sentiments, and as a result, Jorgen—who still couldn’t quite believe he was a duke—now loathed Kendali and Lafine so much he couldn’t bear to see them. Naturally, he felt an overwhelming urge to tear Heathcliff apart right then and there.

“Even though I have no memories… yes, hating them is something I can surely feel as my own emotion.”

Jorgen said firmly. He was already this furious now—how much angrier would he be once he regained all his memories? He couldn’t even guess.

He deeply resented those who had tormented Yuricien, who stirred such tender feelings in him that he feared even looking at her might wear her away.

Just as Yuricien was about to say something to Jorgen—

“Shh.”

Carly slid her hand between them. Her orange eyes sharply fixed on the firmly closed door.

“Someone’s outside. They seem to be eavesdropping.”

At Carly’s low whisper, tension flickered across Jorgen’s and Yuricien’s faces. After briefly assessing the situation, Andersen helped Jorgen lie back down—carefully and silently.

Not long after, a knock sounded.

“My Lord Duke, darling. It’s me.”

The one speaking in that sweet voice was none other than Kendali.

For a moment, Jorgen’s body, which had been lying still, twitched. She was already a woman hard to feel kindly toward—and now she called him “darling.” It would’ve been strange not to be flustered. Yet her voice was so sweet that Jorgen suddenly recalled a question.

‘According to Yuri, I loved that woman deeply.’

He’d apparently fallen for her so instantly that, before Yuricien could stop him, he’d swiftly remarried.

‘Then I should feel something for her too, just as I do when I look at Yuri.’

But strangely, he felt absolutely nothing toward Kendali.

‘Or… could it be that hearing Yuri’s story has biased me?’

Whenever he looked at Yuricien, he felt such poignant affection that he wanted to listen to everything she said, no matter what.

Thus, he hadn’t even considered doubting her—but perhaps Yuricien was deceiving him. Given Jorgen’s complete lack of information, such a thought was entirely reasonable.

‘I should verify this myself.’

So instead of pretending to sleep again to avoid Kendali as he had earlier, Jorgen raised his hand.

“…?”

Yuricien, who had been about to send Kendali away using sleep as an excuse, looked at him with a puzzled expression. Jorgen moved his lips.

“There’s something I want to confirm by meeting her.”

“Confirm…?”

“Yes. I want to know if I truly loved that woman.”

Jorgen confessed plainly.

Some might have taken offense. After all, they’d brought home someone who’d nearly died, forgotten in a collapsing shack—and now he wouldn’t fully trust a single word from his savior. But Yuricien wasn’t one of them.

“Yes, I understand, Father.”

She hadn’t brought Jorgen back for praise or recognition, but to set everything right. To do that, she needed him to choose for himself, not be swayed by a few words.

Thus, Yuricien welcomed Jorgen’s declaration to find out for himself with open arms.

“Please come in.”

At Yuricien’s words, Andersen opened the door.

Kendali stood there, holding a tray, her expression slightly stiff. She swallowed hard as she saw Jorgen lying in bed and Yuricien seated beside him.

It was already burdensome enough to be stared at by that identical face—but even their piercing crimson eyes matched, making their gaze feel as sharp as blades.

‘Those overbearing expressions. They truly make me sick.’

The innate confidence of someone born exceptional. The towering pride akin to noble blood. Whenever she faced those gazes, thick with the arrogance unique to high nobility, Kendali felt herself shrink endlessly—as if to say that despite both bearing the Windsor name, there was ultimately a difference in standing.

‘I thought I’d finally escaped those eyes…’

For some reason, Jorgen, who should have been dead, had returned alive—and brought back by none other than Yuricien, whom she’d believed she’d already broken!

‘I don’t know where things went wrong, but if they did, I’ll simply set them right again.’

With that thought, Kendali approached with a gentle smile and offered Jorgen the cup from her tray.

“I heard a bit about what happened. You must be tired. Here—this is the lemonade His Grace always enjoyed.”

The translucent liquid carried a tangy lemon scent. Ever since Yuricien had made him lemonade as a child, Jorgen had always drunk it whenever weary.

“Yes.”

Seeing Andersen offer no objection, Jorgen took it as a signal and accepted the cup Kendali held out.

At that moment.