After finishing his preparations for bed, Kalian entered his bedroom and immediately looked for alcohol. As he had requested, a bottle of wine was prepared on the table by the butler.
There were also snacks neatly arranged to accompany the drink, but Kalian ignored them. In fact, he didn’t even spare a glance at the glass beside the bottle. Instead, he placed the bottle’s mouth directly against his lips and drank.
The wine slid down his throat, quickly warming it. Yet, despite the heat in his chest, it felt as though the burning sensation faded all too quickly. Even after a few more gulps, it was the same. The boiling turmoil within him could not be quelled by alcohol.
“Haa.”
A sigh, tinged with exhaustion, slipped from Kalian’s lips, stained red with wine.
Angela Bilton.
It was all because of her. Whenever something involved Angela, Kalian’s emotions would always spiral out of control. Too many unnecessary feelings were wasted on her. He found himself thinking things he normally never would, his usual composure vanishing without a trace.
It had been the same when he first met Angela Bilton, though the meaning was vastly different from now. The emotions that had suddenly sprouted back then were foreign and overwhelming, making him feel lost and confused. His heart had burned so intensely that it was almost painful.
Back then, Kalian was twelve years old—a boy living only to survive.
From the moment he opened his eyes each day, he was already a part of a mercenary group. Without any say in the matter, he was thrown onto countless battlefields, forced to kill to avoid being killed. And in return for taking a life, he was granted another day to live.
In those grueling days, where merely surviving was an uphill battle, he met Angela.
The moment Kalian locked eyes with her, he thought an angel had appeared before him.
He even believed, for a brief moment, that everything—the favor of Duke Bilton, the invitation to his grand mansion—was all just a dream. That, in reality, he had died on a terrible battlefield, and this place was heaven, his final destination.
The young lady was so breathtakingly beautiful that such a ridiculous delusion felt natural. Kalian couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. He was completely captivated.
And, as if she truly were an angel who had hidden her wings, the little lady was endlessly kind to him.
To Kalian, whose entire world had been the ruthless mercenary corps, the vast world outside was utterly unknown.
At twelve years old, the only thing he had learned was how to survive a war. That knowledge had been enough to keep him alive.
But Angela taught him something else.
From small things like greeting others properly and dining with etiquette, to more significant lessons like reading and writing.
Even when Kalian stumbled over unfamiliar challenges, she never showed the slightest hint of annoyance. If he made a mistake or acted clumsily, she simply smiled gently at him—as if she truly were an angel.
“Thank you, Angela.”
That phrase had practically lived on Kalian’s lips at the time.
Later, he learned that it was disrespectful to address someone of high status without an honorific, even if they were of similar age. But Angela never corrected him.
He liked that she permitted him to call her name.
He cherished the moments when she warmly said, “Kalian.”
For the first time in his life, the world seemed bright.
As long as Angela was there, it felt like the sun would never set.
But it didn’t take long for Kalian to realize the true nature hidden behind Angela’s beautiful mask.
The angel who had approached Kalian was, in truth, a devil incarnate to others.
She oppressed and controlled everything around her, and if anyone dared to step even slightly beyond the lines she had drawn, she wielded her whip without mercy.
She would call her younger half-sister over whenever she was bored and punish her for no reason. The way she did it was as cruel as enemy soldiers mutilating corpses on a battlefield.
One day, Beatrice had been kneeling for a long time and lost her balance, accidentally breaking one of Angela’s porcelain pieces. In response, Angela had lashed Beatrice’s mother, Yvonne, in front of her.
*”You damaged something precious of mine, so something precious to you must be ruined as well. That’s only fair. You only have that pathetic mother of yours, so don’t feel too wronged.”*
It was unimaginable that such cruel words could come from the mouth of a child.
But the truth was, this was how Angela always spoke.
Her words were wicked, violent, and soul-crushing to the point of breaking a person’s spirit.
The servants in the Bilton estate all avoided Angela. They feared and despised her. But rather than shrinking back, Angela only became bolder.
No one could stop her.
Duke Bilton, the only one with the power to restrain her, was absent more often than not. And perhaps because Angela had the legitimacy to challenge Beatrice’s status as an heir, he merely watched without intervening.
As a result, Angela grew up unchecked and arrogant—so much so that Kalian eventually became fed up and distanced himself from her.
*”Call me ‘Lady Angela’ one more time, and you’ll find yourself behind bars.”*
*”Does it upset you to see me tormenting Beatrice? Should I pluck out your eyes so you won’t have to watch?”*
*”If you ignore my summons because of training, I suppose I’ll just hold your commander responsible instead. Wouldn’t that be fair?”*
The more Kalian pulled away, the clearer Angela’s cruelty became.
And yet, despite witnessing all of it, he still chose to get engaged to her—out of sheer defiance.
*”Angela…”*
On the day he heard of Grace Bilton’s passing, Kalian spoke her name for the first time in a long while—without any honorifics.
The name, thrown into the empty air, quickly scattered. Even the Bilton family messenger who had delivered the news couldn’t hear his voice.
Yet Kalian himself noticed something.
No matter how much he had tried to push her away—despite all the unforgivable cruelty and violence—his feelings for Angela had remained trapped within him, unable to move forward or disappear.
No matter what anyone said, Angela had been his first love.
She was the first to make his barren heart bloom, the first to teach him the richness of emotion.
And so, when Kalian arrived at Grace Bilton’s funeral, he saw Angela standing there, her head held high, unmoved even in the face of her own mother’s death.
People murmured among themselves as they observed her composed face, completely devoid of tears. Even a rag doll would show more emotion than that.
No one noticed—no one except Kalian—that Angela’s shoulders trembled each time she glanced at the coffin. Only he saw the faint quiver. Only he recognized how pale she stood, as if she would be swallowed whole by her pitch-black dress.
At that moment, Kalian made a decision—to share his future with Angela.
No matter how things turned out, she had once taken care of him during his foolish days. He clung to the selfish belief that, hidden within her, there was still some shred of human emotion that only he could see—an emotion the others had failed to notice.
But perhaps it had all been a mistake.
Kalian had waited and waited for the Angela of his childhood—the one who used to forgive his mistakes with a smile—to return. But no matter how much time passed, nothing changed.
Though Angela’s body had hardly grown, the poison surrounding her had swelled day by day. It had reached a point where even Kalian could no longer handle it.
Last night, when he had thrown the word “breakup” at her in the midst of her relentless torment of Yvonne, it had been nothing more than an empty threat.
He had never expected Angela, who had always coveted him, to let him go so easily. He had only hoped she might finally concede.
All he had needed was a simple apologize .. simple promise—that she wouldn’t do that again. That alone would have sufficed.
And yet… Who would have thought she would actually appear in front of so many people wearing that ridiculous, absurd ornament?
“Damn it.”
Recalling Angela standing confidently in one corner of the ballroom, adorned with that cheap hair ornament, Kalian ruffled his still-damp hair with a grim expression.
He gulped down more alcohol. He couldn’t forget the moment their eyes met—the brief flicker of shock that had spread through him.
Right in front of Duke and Duchess Bilton, before the watching crowd, he had barely restrained the fierce urge to pull Angela into his arms and hide her from sight.
It had been his own mistake to underestimate Angela Bilton—to forget that she was someone who would rather break than bow.
Angela Bilton had always provoked Kalian in this way. She could never stay still, not for a moment.
Unlike before, now she only held his gaze for the worst reasons.
Whenever he was with Angela, Kalian was forced to stay on edge, never knowing which direction she would take next.
There wasn’t a single moment of peace to be found.
It was as if the word “stability” simply did not exist in Angela’s vocabulary.
Truly… Truly, she was a woman he couldn’t tear his eyes away from, no matter how much he wanted to.
After Yvonne, who had once been Angela’s nanny, became the mistress of the Bilton household, a particular problem arose for Masha, the head maid of the Bilton estate.
Who would now take Yvonne’s place and be responsible for watching over Angela day and night?
It was an insurmountable dilemma.
The only person capable of handling Angela’s temperament had been Yvonne, who had raised her from childhood. Even Masha herself, despite her position as head maid, would consider resigning if tasked with looking after Angela.
And yet, someone had to do it. After much deliberation, Masha gathered the most senior maids in the estate and called for volunteers.
As expected, no one raised their hand. Even after she added that the salary would be significantly increased, there was no change.
The maids began avoiding her gaze, as if afraid she might pick them just for making eye contact.
Finally, with great resolve, Masha offered double the salary—a measure she had already discussed with the butler in advance. It was her last resort.
The result was devastating. Not a single person stepped forward.
Realizing there was no other option, Masha declared that the position would be decided by drawing lots.
At that, the fully grown maids turned pale, their faces crumpling like children on the verge of tears. Each of them pleaded desperately.
“How could you do this to us? We’ve done nothing but work hard for this household! Why must we be punished?”
“It’s not a punishment…”
“If you were in our position, would you willingly volunteer? Of all people, we’re talking about Lady Angela! Lady Angela!”
“That’s why the salary—”
“I’d rather leave the estate! I can’t live like that. Do you think we could even breathe properly? Please, spare us!”
“I’m not saying you’ll die—”
“Head maid, please! I beg you!”
Masha was at a loss for words.
The maids weren’t kneeling, but they might as well have been. If kneeling would have saved them, they would have done so without hesitation.
Overwhelmed, Masha groaned and pressed a hand to her throbbing forehead.
Just then, one of the maids cautiously spoke up.
“Um, Head Maid… What if we assigned the new girl instead? The one who just joined recently. I’ve been teaching her for the past few days, and she picks things up quickly. She’s not sluggish either. She seems like she could be useful.”
The new girl… Masha pondered for a moment before shaking her head, looking dissatisfied.
“She’s a sensitive one. If even the smallest thing displeases her, she’ll be furious. We can’t send a newcomer into that kind of situation.”
“Lady Angela wouldn’t treat the new girl any differently from us, would she? You know that if she decides to find fault, it won’t matter whether it’s one of us or the newcomer, right?”
Masha hesitated. There was a strange logic to their argument.
Lady Angela was unpredictable—no one could ever guess when, where, or how her temper would flare. In that sense, the senior maids and the new girl were indeed in the same boat.
“Hmm.”
Deep in thought, Masha eventually realized there was no better alternative. With a resigned nod, she agreed to give it a try.
The maids’ expressions brightened instantly. Even if they were granted a month-long vacation, they wouldn’t have looked this relieved.
However, Masha added a condition.
“If Lady Angela decides she doesn’t like the new girl, I’ll be picking a replacement from among you. Keep that in mind.”
Their faces darkened as though they had plummeted from the heavens.
“Y-yes…” they murmured weakly, their voices trailing off.
One of the maids even dabbed at her eyes with the edge of her apron, as if she had already been chosen as Angela’s attendant.
Still, for now, they had managed to avoid stepping into the devil’s lair. That alone was worth celebrating.
Patting each other’s shoulders, they found comfort in their temporary reprieve.
“You must always be careful not to displease the lady.”
Masha spoke gravely as she led the young new maid, Mary, through the spacious corridors of the mansion. They were only a short distance from their destination.
“Yes, Head Maid!”
Mary, who barely reached Masha’s shoulder, responded cheerfully, skipping along with light, energetic steps.
She spoke with such confidence, as though it was only natural for a maid to avoid upsetting her master.
However, Masha’s next words carried a meaning too difficult for the young girl to grasp.
“She’s like the weather.”
“The weather?”
Mary’s large, chestnut-colored eyes sparkled with curiosity.
She had heard that Lady Angela was like an angel… but this?
Muttering as though she had just encountered the hardest riddle of her life, Mary tilted her head and looked up at Masha, silently pleading for an explanation.
“It means she’s unpredictable. You never know when it’ll rain, snow, or hail, so you must always be prepared to get wet. Do you understand?”
Masha spoke without turning her head, her gaze fixed straight ahead. But her serious expression made it clear—she was genuinely concerned for Mary.
Her face looked as though she had just finished an exhausting day of hard labor, shadowed with worry.
Yet Mary, blissfully unaware of Masha’s concern, responded with an innocent grin—completely unbothered.
“Then I’ll just bring an umbrella so I don’t get wet!”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
