QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL) Chapter 103: Duchess Evelyn’

Evelyn POV

The room is quiet. Still. The only sound is the faint creak of the floor beneath my slippers, and the soft, rhythmic flutter of canvas as the breeze slips through the narrow attic window.

Daphne has gone, just as I asked her to.

And I remain.

Alone with this painting.

I step closer to it, my heart thudding unevenly, louder than I care to admit. The closer I get, the harder it is to breathe. It isn’t just a painting.

It’s .

Not the way the palace artists painted . Not the way the people of the estate see . Not the duchess in silk and steel, not the symbol of grace and authority. This is , seen through her eyes.

Vulnerable.

Warm.

Alive.

She saw all of that, in .

And she put it here, in oils and light and brush strokes that tremble with the weight of feeling.

I once wondered what it would be like, to be the subject of her brush. To be captured, morized, worshipped in a way only Daphne could. I used to envy that other woman, the one in her mories. But now, staring at this image, I realize...

This is how she sees .

Like I’m worthy of being rembered.

And my chest aches. Not with guilt. Not even with grief. But with sothing else.

Love.

Real, terrifying love.

I lift a hand and trail my fingers just above the canvas. I don’t touch it, I don’t dare. But I want to. I want to fall into it, into her gaze, into her hands, into the way she sees .

I’ve never been seen like this.

Daphne is happy now. Not haunted by soone else. Not lost in what she lost.

And so must I, it’s my way to atone for the one I replaced by making her happy.

I straighten my spine, take one final look, and let my hand fall to my side.

I was wondering if I could do this. If I could let go of fear, of duty, of every rule I’ve been taught.

But looking at this?

Looking at what I am to her?

It gives courage.

I turn and walk away, the echo of my steps trailing softly behind .

*

Cedric POV

The Duchess has requested an official eting. Odd. It isn’t common for her to call everyone—vassals, concubines, staff, local officials, even soone who looks like they ca straight from the royal court. The entire estate fills the great hall, murmurs rolling through the crowd like low thunder.

And then she enters.

Gasps ripple across the room.

Because it isn’t the tightly corseted, rigidly styled Duchess they all know. No, her hair flows freely around her shoulders, soft waves catching the light, and her usual restrictive garb is replaced with a simple, elegant gown. She looks... breathtaking.

Too breathtaking.

She walks with asured calm to the center of the room, posture straight, gaze level.

"Thank you all for being here," she begins. Her voice carries clearly through the chamber, cold and controlled, the sa as always—but sothing beneath it sounds final.

"I’m sure many of you are confused. You’ve sensed the tension. So of you have even whispered about it. So let put those whispers to rest."

She pauses. Takes a breath.

"I had an affair."

Shock. Gasps. Whispers erupt across the room.

I feel the heat rise to my face. She can’t be serious.

"I apologize for the disgrace my actions have caused. The Duke found out, as I’m sure you’ve all noticed the friction around the estate. I do not pretend my actions were faultless. But I also do not pretend they were unprovoked."

She turns slightly toward .

"There is not a maid this man hasn’t touched. And yet, I am the one condemned."

Soone near scoffs and stifles a laugh.

"Still," she continues, "he is a man. I am a woman. And regardless of my birthright, my marriage, my position—

—I am not exempt from consequence."

She lifts her chin.

"That was made clear to the day the Duke raised his hand against my maiden."

My chest tightens.

"His anger was justified. But that mont... that mont reminded of sothing.

That my title, my power—none of it matters. Not when the person I love would rather hold as Evelyne than worship as Duchess."

Her voice wavers for the first ti, but only slightly.

"I could stay. I could cling to my title. I could lie. I could even pretend the affair never happened. But I won’t."

I stand, furious. "Duchess!"

She ignores .

"I’ve spoken with His Majesty. As of today, I have been stripped of nobility. I am no longer Duchess of Callum. The position is vacant."

The silence that follows is deafening.

She bows.

"Thank you for the years of service and loyalty. It wasn’t all bad."

Then she turns and walks toward the exit.

I lunge forward and grab her arm.

"Are you insane? You could have tucked in your tail. What is all this?"

Her eyes are clear when they et mine.

"This is freedom, Cedric. I’d rather be a commoner in love than a duchess in your shadow."

She jerks her arm away.

"Goodbye, Your Grace."

"Duchess!" I take a step forward, fury prickling just beneath my skin—but two armored guards step between us, their boots thudding heavily against the tiled floor.

One of them raises a hand, palm flat.

"I apologize, Your Grace," he says, voice curt but respectful, "but I am here on direct order from His Majesty. I am to act as witness and overseer of the proceedings."

He nods once toward Evelyn’s retreating figure.

"As she has already been stripped of her nobility, her protection no longer cos from this house—but from the crown itself."

I freeze.

Not because of the guards—but because of the weight behind his words.

Stripped of nobility.Shielded by the king.

It hits all at once.

It’s strategy.

The kind only Evelyn Callum could execute with such precision. Everything—the quiet tension in the estate, the sudden silence from the duchess’ side, her distance—was part of this. She planned it. Or worse, she’s been planning it for far longer than I realized.

My hands curl into tight fists at my sides. The blood drains from my face.

She humiliated .

In front of vassals.

In front of the court.

In front of my wives.

And she had the royal family backing her.

Powerless.

That’s what I am.

Again.

In another life, another na, another world—I was supposed to be better this ti. This life was ant to be my second chance. I was supposed to rise. To be respected. To be feared, if not loved. To finally be the one in control.

My teeth grit so hard it aches. I barely hear the nobles muttering behind , or the looks of awkward pity being exchanged around the room. My ears ring.

Who is it?

Who is the bastard?

My gaze flicks toward the doors she just walked through. I want to go after her. Demand an answer. Demand a na. But I can’t.

Not now.

Not while the whole world watches.

My shoulders square despite the ache building in my spine. I will not crumble. Not here. Not yet.

But I swear—whoever it is...

Whoever dared to touch what was mine—

I will find them.