As the sun set and the moon peeked out.
In the eastern wing of the Bilton estate, within a luxurious bathroom surrounded on all sides by towering angel sculptures, Angela, the young lady of the Duke of Bilton’s household, was bathing.
She occupied a bathtub large enough to hold at least a dozen sturdy men and women with room to spare. At one point, Angela, who had been resting with her eyes gently closed, slowly opened them.
Her long-lowered eyelids, as if in deep slumber, lifted to reveal a pair of serene green eyes.
A few moments later, Angela, blinking slowly, stepped out of the tub, droplets of warm, misty water trickling down her skin.
A soft cloth immediately touched her damp skin.
The one carefully drying Angela—who would turn twenty-four after her next birthday—with the meticulous care of handling a newborn was her nanny, Yvonne.
The droplets that had formed into small beads vanished in an instant. Over her now dry skin, a nightgown and a smooth silk robe were draped.
If she only had wings, she would have looked exactly like an angel who had mistakenly set foot on Earth. Even the fragrance emanating from her seemed otherworldly.
However, perhaps due to her fundamentally vile nature, no matter how dazzling her appearance was, those who truly knew Angela’s real self found it difficult to associate her with an angel.
Even now, it was evident. Despite Yvonne dutifully attending to her, Angela shot her a cold glare, as if something about her was displeasing.
The sharpness of her gaze was enough to render meaningless the bond of affection forged from being nursed by Yvonne since infancy.
To call someone like Angela an angel was laughable.
Anyone who had spent even the briefest time with her would murmur in unison:
“Angela Bilton must surely be a demon that crawled out of hell.”
So when Angela stepped into her bedroom, it was only natural that the maids preparing her bed froze in place as if they had seen a ghost.
After all, the servants of the Bilton estate frequently fell victim to Angela’s cruelty.
“…….”
“…….”
With her arrival, the maids collectively held their breath and lowered their gazes.
It was a reaction ingrained in them through experience. They had witnessed countless instances where a single breath, a fleeting glance, was enough to provoke disaster.
Hurriedly, they finished their tasks and swiftly left the room in perfect coordination.
None dared to loiter, lest Angela find yet another fault with them.
Even in their hasty steps, their anxiety was palpable.
No one dared to meet Angela’s eyes.
And neither did Yvonne, who remained alone in the room after the other maids retreated like a receding tide.
Yvonne lifted the neatly arranged blanket, allowing Angela to slip inside. Once Angela settled in, she carefully tucked the bedding around her before stepping back.
She had not once looked directly at Angela, even from the moment she had assisted her in the bath.
“Good night, my lady.”
Standing a few steps from the bed, Yvonne bowed deeply, offering a proper goodnight.
Without hesitation, she turned to leave.
Unlike the maids before her, she did not openly rush, but her stride was noticeably wide.
“Like a little rat.”
Angela muttered under her breath, her voice like a pebble dropped into a still pond.
Surely, Yvonne must have heard it.
Yet, the bedroom door neither wavered nor hesitated as it opened and shut.
Angela, glaring at the door where Yvonne had disappeared, yanked the covers over herself and turned away from the entrance.
Then, she squeezed her eyes shut.
But it was pointless—sleep would not come.
Her long-standing insomnia, its origins lost to memory, was the only thing in the Bilton estate that dared to meet her gaze head-on.
“…….”
Gripping the blanket tightly with both hands, Angela feigned the slumber of a peaceful sleeper, waiting for the night to pass.
And in the end, true sleep only found her when the faint light of dawn crept through the window.
As the pale glow settled over her delicate face, her already fair complexion looked as ghostly as a corpse.
Just like every other night, her day ended late.
Only then did Angela’s belated day finally come to a close.
—
“Hah…!”
Angela gasped awake, as if she had been drowning and had finally surfaced.
Her back was drenched in sweat. Cold sweat.
For a while, she focused on catching her breath.
Slowly, she pushed herself up.
Her hands pressed against something soft.
She looked down and saw her familiar bedding.
Angela, still gripping the blanket, blinked as she scanned her surroundings.
A grand canopy bed adorned with intricate designs, a gold-trimmed bedside table with butterfly engravings, a spacious table and sofa that could easily seat ten people, a large window bathed in sunlight, and the dazzling curtains framing it.
Undoubtedly, this was her room.
It had been a dream, after all.
A dream, a dream, a dream…
A damn nightmare.
Like a chant, Angela repeated the thought over and over.
Yet the vivid remnants of the dream refused to fade, filling her mind entirely.
She had been certain she had greeted the morning—because the light behind her closed eyes had been blinding.
But when she opened them, the sight before her was completely different from what she saw every morning.
What unfolded before her was an abyss of endless darkness.
No morning sunlight, no maids to assist with her attire, no fragrant tea.
All the things that should have been there had vanished without a trace, swallowed by the void.
Standing in the midst of that darkness, Angela realized—
“Ah, I must be dreaming again.”
And then—
“Angela Bilton.”
“The fool who defiled the name given to her, meant to grow like an angel.”
Two formless lights suddenly appeared and addressed her.
A nightmare, even now?
Angela frowned, almost certain of it.
Just then, one of the mysterious lights lightly brushed against her right cheek, a teasing tone in its voice.
“Everyone points their fingers at you, Angela.”
Even in a dream, Angela was unaccustomed to such treatment, and her emerald eyes flared with fury.
A mocking tsk came from the other light as it tapped her left cheek—hard enough to sting.
“With such beautiful eyes, yet all you do is glare like that. No wonder they call you a demon.”
“Who dares—!”
“Everyone does. I already told you.”
The two lights merged into one and scanned Angela’s entire body with an unsettling gaze.
She felt utterly exposed, as if stripped bare against her will.
How dare they!
Fury surged through Angela. She swung her hand, determined to grab and tear that light apart.
But was this another trick of the dream?
Her body did not obey.
It felt as though she had been tightly bound by invisible ropes—she could barely move a single finger.
What… is this?!
“Pitiful Angela.”
The light chuckled as if peering into Angela’s very soul before splitting into two again, perching on each of her shoulders.
“Ugh!”
Though formless, the light felt unbearably heavy—like slabs of iron pressing down on her. Angela couldn’t suppress a groan.
Of course, the light cared nothing for her suffering.
“No one loves you.”
“Who could ever love someone as wicked as you?”
“Every day, prayers rose up—‘Please, punish that wretched blonde girl. Please, please, please.’”
“So, we decided to grant their wish.”
Two voices, alike yet distinct, whispered alternately into her ears. Their tone held no particular rise or fall, yet in Angela’s ears, it thundered like a storm.
With every word, a deafening roar reverberated through her skull, splitting her eardrums, and an excruciating headache threatened to tear her head apart.
This was undoubtedly a dream—yet the pain was too vivid, too real.
Angela’s face twisted in agony, crumpling like a sheet of paper.
Before long, her tightly sealed lips parted weakly, and crimson blood began to well up between them.
Only then did the lights retreat from her shoulders, merging into one again. It hovered gently above her head as if stroking her.
For something that had just spewed cruel words at her, the touch was unexpectedly tender.
Somehow, it soothed the pain—the raging headache, like crows pecking at her brain, began to subside.
“I can breathe again…”
Angela let out a sigh of relief.
At that moment, the light split once more, darting around the space before suddenly converging right in front of her.
Angela had the eerie sensation of locking eyes with it—though it had no eyes, she could feel its sharp gaze piercing straight through her, as if seeing right through to the back of her skull.
“…But Angela.”
The voice came after a long silence.
“I am merciful, so I shall grant you an opportunity.”
“…”
“Because I know of your wretchedness, I offer you this mercy. Be grateful.”
With those final words, the light circled her once before plunging directly into the center of her chest.
Angela’s body jerked violently as if she were about to vomit.
A searing heat spread from her heart, sending shivers across her body.
It was unbearable, like being set aflame.
Perhaps because of that, her vision blurred, and soon, an illusion appeared before her.
A very young girl.
She was small for her age.
“Hic… hic… huff…!”
With disheveled hair, the girl sobbed uncontrollably as she clawed at a closed door.
She had been knocking—pounding—but it wouldn’t open, so she resorted to scratching it desperately.
“P-please, open the door… I was wrong… I was wrong…!”
A plea, choked by sobs.
“What…!”
The sound pierced Angela’s ears, and realization struck her like a blade.
This vision—this lingering fragment of the past—
That crying little girl was none other than her younger self.
Angela screamed, her voice raw and panicked.
“What are you doing to me?! Agh!”
Just as she shrieked in shock, the light reappeared before her.
It split into two once more, twirling around her.
This time, its voice was gentler than ever.
“Calm down. We are merely planting a beautiful garden in your barren heart.”
“The seeds have been sown—let them bloom in full.”
“But be careful not to grow thorns by mistake.”
“A sharp thorn could pierce your heart and, oh dear, you might die.”
The words were language, yet they felt like something else entirely.
She understood them—but she could not comprehend them.
Angela wanted to demand an explanation, to shout in fury.
But before she could, the two lights merged back into one and vanished before her eyes.
It happened in the blink of an eye.
Only an echo remained—whether laughter or weeping, she couldn’t tell.
It lingered in the darkness where Angela stood alone, long after the light had disappeared.
—
“A garden… what nonsense.”
Pressing her forehead with her fingers, Angela muttered furiously, her brows furrowing.
A faint warmth lingered on her forehead.
Had she been sick, and that was why she dreamt such absurdity?
Clicking her tongue in irritation, she reached out and yanked the cord beside her bed.
It was to summon a maid.
Soon, the bedroom door burst open, and a maid rushed inside in a panic.
Her frantic movements grated on Angela’s nerves.
Already on edge from her unpleasant dream, Angela shot the maid a sharp glare.
But then—
The maid froze, her face draining of color as if she had seen something horrifying.
A moment later, she turned on her heels and bolted out of the room.
“What?”
Angela stared in disbelief at the door where the maid had disappeared.
It wasn’t unusual for the maids to avoid her—but to flee in sheer terror?
That was a first.
Was she still dreaming?
Angela glanced around uneasily.
Outside her room, a commotion stirred.
“What the hell is going on?”
Frustrated, Angela threw off the blankets wrapped around her legs.
She lowered her feet onto the floor—feet as pale as if they had never seen sunlight.
But—
Her toes did not meet the slippers that should have been there.
They were always placed at the bedside.
Some fool of a maid must have moved them.
“Unbelievable.”
Everything was irritating her today.
Clicking her tongue menacingly, Angela gave up and placed her bare feet on the floor.
The coldness against her skin sent a sharp chill up her spine.
Running her fingers through her long, golden locks, she thought bitterly—
She would not let the bedroom maids go unpunished.
At that moment— Angela’s hand flew to her chest.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
