Following Philip’s lead, Helena and Marina climbed out the window and descended to the street below. The surrounding streets were eerily quiet, the kind of stillness found in residential quarters once night settled over the city.
Marina scowled, her expression full of displeasure as she fidgeted with the rough, tattered cloak Philip had thrown over her.
“Ugh! It feels like bugs are crawling all over me!”
“Oh please! And yet it was perfectly fine to lock us in that filthy basement back in the Southern Territory?” Helena snarled, incredulous.
After the death of Viscount Wedgwood, and the crushing debt he’d left behind, Helena, Philip, and Emelin had been forced to work under a witch of the Southern Cultivation Lands.
That was where Helena had developed an allergy—stuck in a semi-basement with only one ventilation shaft.
“It was a half-basement, thank you very much!”
“Same difference!”
“And I still fed you three meals a day, didn’t I? If it had been anyone else, you’d have been worked to the bone or had your organs harvested and sold!”
“Oh wow, what a shining example of virtue,” Helena mocked, rolling her eyes. For someone who hated being called ‘Master’ or ‘Lady,’ Marina sure had a talent for boasting.
The three of them had nearly arrived at the manor. Helena jabbed her chin toward it, glaring at Marina.
“Well, go on then. Let’s confirm it with your own eyes.”
Marina eyed both Helena and Philip with open suspicion.
“If you were going to hand it over anyway, why lie and say you lost it? You even said you had the money ready!”
Helena smacked her lips. The truth was…
She recalled the names etched into that cursed ledger.
Damn that man—damn Bluebeard.
The moment she saw the records, she realized something: there was no confirmation of Bluebeard’s death. Marina had been updating the debt records monthly—there’d be no reason to maintain the account of someone who’d passed beyond the mortal realm.
Could it be he truly wasn’t dead?
Helena had wanted to know for sure.
If he really had survived… then yes, it was despicable that he let his daughter carry such crushing guilt. But at least Emelin wouldn’t have to spend her life thinking she’d committed patricide.
She’d intended to tell Emelin once she had something more solid.
Helena narrowed her eyes at Marina’s curly-haired back.
This was what she’d wanted to ask today—whether Marina had lent money to that demon. Whether Bluebeard still lived.
Unable to wait for Philip to finish unlocking the door, Helena opened her mouth.
“…Hey. Did you lend money to Bluebeard too?”
Click.
The door creaked open. Marina, just about to step inside, froze.
She turned slowly to look at Helena. Her violet eyes rolled, sharp and calculating.
“Wh—what did you say?”
She was lying. Helena could tell. Her expression darkened—
Shhhhk!
Suddenly, a dark shadow fell upon all three of them.
✵
✵
✵
Back at the palace, the banquet had reached its peak. The nobles were flushed with wine, their laughter growing louder, the scent of fine delicacies heavy in the air. Amid the festivities, the princess stood in a quiet corridor.
A servant had just delivered a gift from the king.
Ella glanced down at the parcel in her hands: black silk. Her voice was a low murmur.
“…I’m glad I opened this out here.”
She cursed under her breath.
Kai, who had been walking behind her, froze and glanced around, alarmed by her blasphemy. That was a royal gift—words like that could get one executed.
Ella cast him a fleeting look, then flung the black silk at him.
“Throw it away. Or make clothes for that rabbit doll of yours or something.”
While Kai stood there stunned, holding the silk, Ella staggered back toward her inner quarters.
There was no mistaking the message that silk carried:
Don’t forget—today is the death anniversary of your mother.
And to make it worse, this time, the gift came with a note:
Robert is trembling in the land of eternal frost. Don’t enjoy yourself too much.
‘Then why allow a banquet in the first place…?’
It had been like this for the past twenty-four years. The king used Ella’s birthday solely as a day to mourn the late queen—and made sure his grief was publicly, painfully visible.
A queen dying in childbirth wasn’t rare. It wasn’t even as if Ella’s father had loved her mother deeply.
‘If he had truly loved her… he wouldn’t have taken dozens of concubines afterward.’
No, what he truly wanted was to brand Ella as a
cursed child
.
Ella, born of the queen’s line. Robert, born of a concubine.
Since Ella bore the rightful bloodline, the king had to assign her a flaw—call her cursed—to soothe his twisted sense of order. Why?
‘All so he could justify putting the bastard prince on the throne…’
Ella was sick of it.
Not because of the years she’d been branded
cursed
, but because her father had stripped even mourning robes of their grief—replacing sorrow with nothing but rage.
Then, from the shadows of the corridor, laughter echoed.
Two figures—entwined in a lover’s embrace—cast their silhouettes on the wall.
Ella felt no pity for the couple exchanging affections on the anniversary of her mother’s death. She was about to simply take a different route.
Until she heard it:
“She doesn’t look the least bit sad. Like someone without emotions…”
“If it were me, I’d be broken, my lady. But the princess? She’s like a woman with neither blood nor tears. And as a man, let me tell you—no man favors a woman like that.”
Ella’s brow twisted.
The couple’s lewd laughter and ragged breaths filled the corridor. She stared toward the shadows without a word.
Kai, her attendant, tensed beside her, his shoulders twitching.
Normally, she would’ve dragged them out into the light right then and there—disgraced them before the entire cultivation court, ruined their reputations so thoroughly they’d never be welcomed at another sect gathering again.
Ella didn’t tolerate insolence.
‘If you're in a position where you don’t need to endure—then not enduring becomes a virtue.’
Kai remembered her saying that once.
Now he stood frozen, uncertain how she would respond.
Then, Ella finally spoke.
“So… rats have crept into my palace. Shall I cleanse them all at once?”
Her sharp, ringing voice filled the corridor.
The instant her words fell, the breathing in the shadows stopped—followed by the sudden vanishing of all presence from that corner.
‘That’s it…?’
Kai’s face twitched.
But Ella walked forward calmly, as if nothing had happened.
He stared at her back. Something about it felt… subdued today.
He pulled out a scroll and inkbrush from his robe. Just before Ella reached her private chambers, he handed her the note.
“…?”
Please don’t mind what they said.
She stared at the parchment. Her blue eyes were flat, emotionless.
Then, for a single moment—
Ella gave a faint snort of a laugh.
The note crumpled in her hand.
“I’m not… minding it.”
“…?”
Kai looked at her with wide, startled eyes.
One corner of Ella’s mouth was curled into a sharp, almost vicious smirk.
“Wait… were you trying to comfort me?”
She scoffed.
“…!”
Kai scrambled to scribble something else.
Your eyes looked… sad.
Sad?
Her expression contorted fiercely as she read it.
You too? You see I’m a woman and assume I’m led by emotions?
Just like the rest—
Those who called her
soft
when she chose mercy over domination,
And
frail
when her fury came with tears.
If that’s what you think—
Ella spoke, her voice laced with barely restrained fury.
“I made a mistake. I was far too merciful to you. A mute who can't even form proper words, a discarded son abandoned by his own father, a deserter too afraid to face battle…”
With her anger boiling over, she shoved Kai against the wall.
“…!”
Kai’s eyes widened in shock.
Ella began unfastening the buttons of his robe. Kai moved to stop her—but froze when he saw her face.
It was a face he had never seen before. The scent of wine clung heavily to her; she had clearly drunk far more than usual.
He said nothing. He could only stare into her eyes—eyes brimming with sorrow and fury.
“What? You’re resisting?” she murmured coldly. “You should be
grateful
that someone like me even considers using you like a worn-out rag.”
Her fingers gripped his jaw.
“There is only one thing you can do to console me,” she said, voice like a blade.
Kai clenched his eyes shut.
But no matter how long he waited, nothing happened.
Her hand slowly lost its strength and slipped away.
He collapsed to the ground, breath catching in his throat.
Ella stood still, staring down at him.
“…Don’t forget your place ever again,” she said coldly.
Kai nodded faintly, unable to meet her gaze, his hands trembling as he straightened his disheveled robes.
Ella opened the door to the inner chambers, her gaze fixed ahead.
“Tell Madam Margaret I brought out a fine wine. She’s welcome to join me.”
With that, she disappeared inside and sank into the sofa, limbs heavy.
She heard Kai slowly rise to his feet and shuffle away. Only after his shadow vanished did Ella let her expression crumble.
“…Damn it…”
Taking out her frustration on someone weaker… such a petty, disgraceful thing to do.
She had tried it—because everyone else seemed to.
And yet it left her feeling utterly vile.
Chapter 89