Angela chapter 2

The front of her dress was mercilessly crumpled in her grasp.
What… what is this…? What is happening right now…?

Her heart throbbed so painfully that she couldn’t even let out a scream.
Her normally upright posture crumbled helplessly under the sudden onslaught of pain. It was such an unseemly sight that it made Angela’s already small frame appear even more diminutive.

“I only want to plant a beautiful flower garden in your barren heart.”
“I’ve sown the seeds, so let them bloom in full.”
“But be careful not to grow thorny brambles by mistake.”
“If the sharp thorns pierce your heart, you might—perhaps—die.”

Fragments of that wretched dream suddenly surfaced in Angela’s mind.
The warning, spoken by a being of light, echoed in her head like a curse—if she let thorny vines grow in her heart, she might die from their piercing.

Her anxious eyes wavered dangerously, reflecting a greenish ripple like turbulent waves.
It must be a coincidence. Just a coincidence. Of course, it’s a coincidence.

Angela tried to reassure herself, but the unsettling resemblance between her dream and reality made her chest feel all the more restless.
It didn’t make sense… But no matter how hard she tried to suppress it, an absurd suspicion surged forth like a fountain.

Just then, the door to the bedroom—through which the maid had fled, her mouth agape—opened once more.
The way it swung open was far too rude for it to be the maid returning.

Still clutching her chest, Angela straightened her posture and turned her gaze toward the intruder.

“This is ridiculous.”

A deep, weighty voice struck her ears first.

“I heard you hadn’t opened your eyes for four days.”

A face, hailed as the most handsome in the entire Paleon Empire, strode directly toward her.

“And yet, I’ve been fooled again.”

Kalian Florence.

“Like a fool.”

He was her indifferent fiancé, a man so distant that seeing him even once a month was a challenge.

“You…”

Angela, still dazed, looked up at the face towering above her.
Kalian Florence was a man who had seized the title of Count by his own merit, recognized for his achievements on the battlefield in Paleon, a land plagued by frequent territorial disputes along its borders.

With his sharp gaze, he looked down at Angela.
Beneath his black hair, his even darker eyes gleamed like gemstones. The moment she met those beautiful eyes, Angela’s heart began to ache—this time, for a completely different reason.

“What nonsense are you talking about?”

She forced her voice to sound strong, determined not to reveal her trembling heart.

“I’m sick and tired of this farce, so stop it.”

Kalian shrugged off the cape draped over his shoulder as if it were a nuisance.
The deep blue fabric coiled around his firm arm, and even in this small motion, the dignity of a knight sworn to protect the Empire was unmistakable.

“Was this all just a ploy to make me come here?”

His voice was unwaveringly firm.

“What?”

“If something like this happens again, even if news of your death reaches me, I will ignore it.”

With that final statement, his expression turned chillingly cold.
It was impossible to believe he was speaking to his betrothed.
He looked as if he truly wouldn’t bat an eye even if she dropped dead right now.

It was a disgraceful way to treat a woman he was supposed to marry.
Especially considering Angela was the one who had helped Kalian when he first set foot in the Bilton estate as nothing more than a lowly orphaned mercenary.
He wouldn’t even be standing here today if not for her guidance, yet he dared to treat her with such disrespect.

There was a limit to ingratitude.

The same man who once wandered around clueless, unable to even exchange proper greetings, had now become a young Count at the age of twenty-six—and he was acting this rudely?

Angela bit her lip in anger.

But from Kalian’s perspective, there was a reason for his harsh attitude.

Angela had a habit of feigning illness whenever she wanted to summon Kalian to the Bilton estate.
It didn’t matter if he was in the middle of important work, traveling far away, or about to set off on a military campaign the next day.

If Angela said she was sick, Kalian had to drop everything and come to her side.

Once, he had refused.

That day, Angela had beaten the servant she had sent to fetch him.
When things didn’t go her way, she never hesitated to reveal her destructive nature.

And yet, whenever Kalian did come, he always found her in perfect health—just like now.

It was enough to drive him mad.

Those who knew the situation whispered that calling Angela a liar was too generous—she was nothing short of a schemer.

“Who delivered the message?”

Angela finally spoke, addressing Kalian’s icy face.

Perhaps finding the question unexpected, Kalian narrowed his eyes as if trying to read her intentions.

Angela smiled, as if to say she was merely trying to save him the trouble, and laid bare her thoughts without hesitation.

“You sought to slander me with lies—your tongue must be cut out.”

Before the words had even fully left her lips, Kalian’s eyes twisted in scorn.

But this time, Angela truly felt wronged.

Kalian Florence was the kind of man who wouldn’t seek her out unless she made an effort.
He neglected her to the point that their engagement felt meaningless.
In fact, every year on her birthday, he would conveniently be off inspecting his territory.

So yes, Angela had always been the one to reach out first—calling for him, demanding his presence, forcing him to come before her.
But this time, she hadn’t done any of that.

She had never been unconscious for four days, and she had certainly never sent word to summon Kalian using that as an excuse.
His accusation was a grave misunderstanding—one that was deeply insulting.

“If you won’t tell me, then forget it. I’ll find out myself.”

Without hesitation, Angela spat out the venomous words and strode past Kalian, who remained silent.

She was on her way to prove that she hadn’t been bluffing—the servant’s tongue would indeed be cut out.

Knowing this, Kalian’s expression turned lethal as he grabbed her wrist.

No—

“Hup!”

—He tried to grab it.

If Angela hadn’t suddenly collapsed to the floor with a breathless gasp, his fingers would have caught her slender wrist.

Kalian stared at his empty hand, then clenched it into a tight fist.

“Hah…”

Angela groaned as she clutched both hands over her heart, pressing hard against her chest.
The violent pounding inside her felt dangerous. She couldn’t even tell if she was breathing properly.

Curled in on herself, she trembled uncontrollably, her golden hair spilling onto the floor like a wilted flower.

It felt as if her heart would suddenly stop at any moment.

And yet, the voice that fell upon her suffering figure was icily indifferent.

“Did I not tell you… to stop this farce?”

It hardly ever snowed in Ron, the capital of Paleon, where winters were short.
But now, it felt as though snowflakes were swirling through the air in this very room.

The temperature had plummeted—the air growing unbearably cold.

Angela didn’t need to lift her head to see what kind of expression Kalian was making as he gazed down at her.

She already knew.

And she knew, too, that it was not the kind of face one would show to a beloved fiancée.

“Count Florence.”

With a short sigh, Angela gritted her teeth and forced herself upright.
Her chin lifted proudly, as if she had never been in pain at all.

Kalian scoffed.

This woman is not worth worrying about.

That thought had barely settled when—

Smack!

Angela’s hand struck his cheek with a sharp, resounding slap.

The fierce crack of it slashed through the silence like a blade.

For a moment, the bedroom fell into an eerie stillness, where only their uneven breaths floated in the air.

Then, Angela shattered that silence with a mocking smile.

“When your beautiful fiancée claims to be ill, you should at least pretend to be fooled.”

Her voice dripped with ridicule.

“That way, she won’t get angry. Hmm?”

Kalian was the one who had been slapped, yet Angela exaggeratedly grimaced and shook out her hand as if she were the one in pain.

Her acting was impeccable.

If an outsider had witnessed this scene, they might have pitied her delicate, fragile appearance.

“You really don’t understand women, Count Florence.”

Angela pouted, grumbling under her breath.

To any other man, the sight would have been utterly endearing—so much so that they might have fallen head over heels and pledged their life to her on the spot.

But Kalian was not “any other man.”

He didn’t fall for it.

His gaze darkened, like a sky where the sun had long since disappeared.

“Of course I don’t.”

His voice, too, was clouded—heavy, like the air before a storm.

“Every woman who so much as brushes against me ends up beaten within an inch of her life. Tell me, when would I have had the chance to learn?”

A storm was brewing.

“Shall I go and educate myself now?”

And then—

“If my lovely fiancée allows it, I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

The downpour came all at once.

Angela, completely unprepared for the rain, could do nothing but stand there, utterly drenched.

Her body went rigid, unable to even blink.

Kalian took a single step toward her.

Lowering himself to match the difference in their height, he leaned in close—so close that his lips hovered just by her ear.

Then, in a voice as steady as the whispering wind, he spoke.

“Lady Bilton.”

His breath ghosted against her sensitive skin, making her flinch involuntarily.

It wasn’t as if she had been expecting some sweet words or a sultry tease—she knew Kalian better than that.

And yet, he smirked.

As if mocking her reaction.

Humiliated, Angela abruptly turned her head away.

But no matter how she tried to avoid it, the rain did not stop pouring.

“Do not test my patience.”

Kalian’s cold warning seeped into her ears, pooling in her chest like murky water.

The sensation was vile—sticky and suffocating.

Angela’s fingers trembled slightly.

Even if it eventually dried, the stain would remain.

Her entire being soured at the thought.

“Well then, I’ll be taking my leave.”

With that, Kalian turned his back on her. As if none of this mattered to him. As if he truly did not care.

Angela could only watch, her breath caught in her throat, as he walked away.

And then—he was gone.

The door closed with a quiet click. And in that instant—

“Ugh…”

Angela clutched at her chest.

The pain that had been gnawing at her all this time suddenly exploded, as if her heart had finally reached its limit.

Her gaze dropped, instinctively drawn to her chest.

There—spreading like ink—was a pitch-black stain.

A shadowy bruise. And then—

“…!”

Her vision blurred. Her body wavered—And she collapsed.

The floor was far too hard a place for a noblewoman to fall.

But it held her tightly, refusing to let her go.

“What… did you just say?”

The one who discovered Angela’s unconscious body was her old nanny, Yvonne.

It happened just as Angela was desperately clawing her way back to consciousness, struggling in disgrace.

With a sharp cry of, “My lady!” a deathly pale Yvonne came rushing in.

She hurriedly propped Angela up, helping her onto the soft bed.

It was only after sinking into the comfort of the mattress that Angela could finally regain some sense of clarity.

And that was when Yvonne told her something utterly unexpected.

For the past several days, Angela had been in a deep, unbroken sleep.

Angela threw off the blanket and sat up in disbelief.

“Hah… Are you telling me I was unconscious for four days?”

Stiff-backed, she demanded an answer.

Yvonne tucked the disheveled blanket around her waist before nodding gravely.

“Yes, my lady. You were completely unresponsive. Even Doctor Haim examined you, but he couldn’t determine the cause… It was utter chaos.”

Raymond Haim.

A young physician barely past thirty, but a direct descendant of the Haim family, who had served as personal doctors to the Bilton dukes for three generations.

If he couldn’t find a cause, then the “chaos” Yvonne spoke of must have been no ordinary ordeal.

Had Angela remained unconscious any longer, they might have started searching for her will.

And then, at last, she understood.

She understood why the maid who had come into her room earlier had fled in such terror.

Her mind was a mess.

“Haah…”

With a deep, weary sigh, Angela pressed her fingertips firmly against her throbbing temple.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───