I Became the Heroine’s Stand-in

The Valencia estate was a marvel—even its dining hall was breathtaking.

The room, adorned in deep crimson, was lavish enough to rival the finest Imperial restaurants.

Every guest was provided with a serviette, embroidered with House Valencia’s crest.

Even something as insignificant as a piece of cloth carried the weight of prestige.

Diana unfolded her serviette with meticulous care, placing it over her lap.

“Since it’s your first evening here, I thought we should raise a small toast to mark the occasion.”

“It would be an honor.”

The moment Ersivan rang the bell, two sommeliers approached, each carrying a bottle of wine.

For the apéritif, a light sparkling wine was served.

Supposedly sweet, though for someone unfamiliar with alcohol, it still tasted bitter to Diana.

The hors d’oeuvre was a fresh avocado salad, drizzled with a tangy orange dressing.

The citrus flavor balanced the creaminess of the avocado, making it enjoyable even for someone who wasn’t fond of sour dishes.

After the appetizer, a group of servants entered, pushing food carts laden with the main course.

Lobster.

Grilled golden brown in butter and garlic, its aroma alone made Diana swallow involuntarily.

The best part—the tail—had been carefully separated from the shell and placed on their plates.

She squeezed a fresh lemon wedge over the lobster before pairing it with asparagus, cut in half for easier bites.

The courses continued.

A rich soup, simmered with salted mushrooms and pumpkin.

A tender filet mignon, cooked to perfection.

And finally, a dessert of fromage blanc, offering a delicate creamy sweetness.

As the meal neared its end, Ersivan spoke.

“Shall I tell you something interesting?”

Diana glanced up as he idly tapped his wine glass with his finger.

**”Lily, you feel… oddly familiar to me.

As if we were childhood friends.”**

**”That is quite the compliment.

I can only be grateful that you find me so approachable.”**

She had planned to brush off the comment—

Until she met his gaze.

There was no humor in his expression.

Only genuine curiosity.

**”I wasn’t merely speaking in pleasantries.

Tell me, haven’t we met before?”**

“…Excuse me?”

“Perhaps when we were children?”

There it was again.

That deep, unwavering stare.

His crimson irises, like ink dispersing in water, slowly swirled over her, as if studying her every detail.

**”Your Highness, I first met you when I was eleven.

Even then, you were far too composed to be called a child.”**

“I wasn’t referring to that.”

Ersivan leaned forward slightly.

**”Look closely.

Are you certain we have never met before?”**

The betrothal had been arranged when he was fifteen and Lillian was eleven.

There had been no significant interactions between them before or after.

Their families were not close.

If they had truly met before that, it would mean something had strayed from the original story.

And that was impossible.

**”Your Highness, if I had ever met someone as striking as you, I would not have forgotten.

I apologize, but I have no such memories.”**

She gave the most diplomatic response possible.

Simple, polite, yet firm.

But Ersivan…

did not look convinced.

“I see.”

A brief reply.

And just like that, the conversation stalled.

Ersivan, suddenly silent, lifted his glass again—

But this time, it was not sparkling wine.

It was strong red wine.

Diana had assumed he was merely finishing his drink.

But then—

He poured himself another.

And another.

**”It may be best to slow down, Your Highness.

You might get drunk.”**

**”I am not so weak.

There’s no need for concern.”**

So much for earning favor by pretending to worry.

One moment, he was approachable—the next, he was distancing himself.

What was he thinking?

Diana pursed her lips before attempting to change the mood.

“May I ask… does this mean that you have seen me elsewhere before, Evan?”

“I don’t know.”

**”That’s an unusual response.

It should be either ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”**

“I don’t know.”

He repeated his answer, just as vague as before.

His normally unreadable expression was now tinged with frustration.

And it wasn’t just her imagination.

She had spent years studying people’s expressions—

And his was one of deep uncertainty.

“I don’t know either!”

Now she understood.

Why he kept drinking.

Because water would never quench a thirst like this.

It wasn’t physical.

It was a hunger for answers.

So Diana did the only thing she could think of.

She reached for her own wine glass and took a sip.

Immediately, she felt his gaze shift to her.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I simply wondered if you needed to drink as well.”

“It’s no fun drinking alone.”

Ersivan let out a soft chuckle.

**”Ah.

So you’re drinking for my sake?”**

“…To some extent?”

“How thoughtful.”

His voice carried a subtle amusement, but beneath it, something else lingered—

Something unspoken.

Diana found herself watching him again.

He was unlike anyone she had ever met.

Unlike anyone she had ever read about.

**Ersivan Valencia was not just dangerous.

He was a danger of an entirely different kind.**

And in that moment, she understood.

**He wasn’t simply trying to remember.

He was trying to figure out…

why he had never forgotten.

With a lazy smile, he swirled the half-empty glass, the motion effortlessly entrancing.

Even his mockery had an air of nobility—wastefully refined in a way that was almost irritating.

Diana didn’t bother contradicting him. Instead, she responded simply.

“There’s no harm in being kind.”

**”Nor is there any real benefit.

It is merely an emotional expense.”**

“Still, isn’t it only natural to be kind to those we care about?”

**”That may be.

But the problem lies with those who exploit such kindness.”**

**”Hmm… then what should I do?

Should I be cruel instead?”**

Resting her chin on her hand, she exaggerated her expressions, raising an eyebrow and narrowing her eyes as if mimicking a petulant villain.

Was she trying to amuse him?

Or was she simply so unaccustomed to showing anger that even her attempt felt awkward?

Ersivan did not bother to conceal his amusement.

“It suits you.”

“Should I act this way toward you as well, then?”

“Evan.”

**”…Right. Evan.

Should I keep this rebellious attitude even with you, Evan?”**

The moment she slipped back into formal speech, he corrected her—

Even in his intoxicated state, he refused to let certain things go.

His unyielding persistence made Diana sigh inwardly.

“You may act however you wish with me, Lily.”

It was shameless, the way he said it—so smooth, so natural, as if it were an undeniable truth.

Diana resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“And what if you’re one of the people who would exploit that kindness, Evan?”

Though her tone was playful, the question itself held a grain of sincerity.

Just as he was about to respond, the wine glass tilted precariously between his fingers, slipping onto the table.

A deep red stain spread across the white cloth.

Ersivan casually wiped the wine from his lips with the back of his hand.

A careless gesture, one that should have appeared crude—

Yet somehow, when he did it, it became a work of art.

Then, without a care, he leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table and propping his head against his arm.

Gazing up at her, he asked—

“What do you think?”

His voice, soft and slow, carried a playful lilt that felt strangely out of place.

Diana tilted her head slightly, sensing an odd discrepancy in his demeanor.

Ersivan Valencia, always composed, always immaculate, was now lounging carelessly, draped over the table like a wayward aristocrat.

“Do you think I am one of them?”

The sight of him, so unfamiliar, made her pause.

But he didn’t wait for her answer.

Instead, his words came out slowly, deliberately, as if testing her reaction.

“Do you truly believe that?”

Something felt off.

His speech was measured, but his enunciation was sharper than before.

The atmosphere had turned…

Uncomfortably foreign.

**”Of course not.

If anything, you’re one of the few people I can afford to be kind to.”**

Diana kept her expression composed, mimicking his usual nonchalance.

She had spent the evening observing him—

Now, it was her turn to mirror his tactics.

“Why?”

His lids lowered, concealing the deep red of his eyes.

All that remained was the sharp slant of his lashes against his cheekbones.

“Why do you say that?”

At first, Diana assumed he was muttering to himself.

But then she realized—

He was waiting for an answer.

“Am I truly included… in that category?”

“…Category?”

“The category of people you trust.”

A sharp tension ran down her spine.

She unconsciously straightened, making the height difference between them even more pronounced.

Even though he was physically below her, she felt as though he were the one looking down on her.

His eyes—

They were steady, unblinking, almost greedy.

The way he watched her, with such blatant fixation, made the air thick with weight.

It wasn’t a simple question.

It was a trap.

And there was no right answer.

If she said yes, it would be a lie.

If she said no, it would be a grave insult.

Would she be the one who remained polite while concealing the truth?

Or would she be the one who spoke honestly at the cost of propriety?

**”Of course.

You hold a very important place there, Evan.”**

There was no better answer.

It was blatant flattery, but she didn’t care.

If people were drawn to those who mirrored them, then she would become Ersivan Valencia himself.

She would play his game.

And sure enough—

He responded exactly as she had expected.

“That’s good to hear.”

At some point, his glass had been refilled.

The deep red liquid shimmered as he slowly tilted it from side to side.

Then, ever so smoothly—

He lifted it toward her face.

“Then I must repay that trust.”

Through the crystal rim of the glass—

She saw her own reflection, distorted and bathed in red.

It was as if she were submerged in blood.

A silent warning.

Or perhaps, a promise.

Of what… she could not yet tell.