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People had called her that ever since her sister fell ill and she became unusually emotionless. Her aggressive behavior in high society and her use of her status to oppress others were indeed excessive for a fifteen-year-old.

But she had never killed anyone.

She had grown enough to distinguish between good and evil and understood that the man’s incomprehensible words had a purpose.

The man chuckled lowly, as if understanding her confusion.

‘It won’t be difficult. You’re a noble, after all.’

Florencia looked at the moon-shaped seal in her hand, bowing her head. The once pure blue emblem had turned purple. She bit her lip and muttered.

Just because I’m a noble doesn’t mean I have to get involved in murder plots…

‘Of course you do. Unless you’re being sold off in a political marriage.’

‘…’

‘It’s not hard, is it? You’ve seen it yourself.’

‘If you achieve your goal, the seal won’t be necessary. Those who share your blood could inherit the ability. Where else could you find a better deal than this, as long as you’re not executed as a witch?’

Florencia clenched her fist. The surroundings seemed to move slowly, as if time had stopped.

‘No.’

I will never fulfill your goal.

The man disappeared into thin air, laughing at her. If you’re scared, that’s fine. As long as you’re not caught, it doesn’t matter. He said.

‘And you will do as I say. You’ll strive to kill someone.’

* * *

After that, Florencia indeed began to use her Esper ability. It was telekinesis, the most basic of magical powers, that became her Esper ability. She quickly became accustomed to using it in a short time.

The man often sent letters or notes with various explanations until she officially debuted in high society at nineteen.

He described the seal he had given her as “alive” and said she should carry it around as a seal or pendant. He added that since the ability was temporarily bestowed, it required a medium.

Florencia, knowing that her seal could also serve as her signature, fashioned it into a seal. She created a ring and seal frame in advance and set the emblem within them.

‘You can use it as you wish.’

It was as the magician had assured. Searching through the library, she found no side effects of artificial abilities, such as losing life force. Florencia later received additional information about her ability from the Magic Tower, summarized as follows:

1. Temporary Esper abilities manifest only when the owner possesses the medium.
2. The ability manifests through Florencia’s blood; even if someone else possesses the medium, a blood relative can slightly mimic the ability.
3. Once the conditions are met, the medium can be discarded, and the ability will belong to Florencia.
4. If the magician’s purpose in bestowing the ability is revealed, there will be consequences.

The simple rules seemed to pose no apparent problems. The man never mentioned the side effects of failing to fulfill his purpose, but he assured her there would be no disadvantage. Whether that was something to be happy about was unclear.

Because of this, Florencia was cautious with her ability. Despite its eerie potential, she hesitated to use it.

She suspected that all her misfortunes might be due to the Esper ability.

At fifteen, she had such thoughts.

Florencia was especially anxious when Margaret nearly died, and it was no surprise that she stopped using her ability from then on. She meticulously hid her ability, never showing the seal to anyone.

Florencia acted as if she had completely forgotten about her ability when she officially debuted in high society at nineteen. Even the Crown Prince, whom she loved dearly, was unaware of her ability.

Florencia could confidently say that at that time, she was not a villainess but merely a marquis’ daughter who almost lost her sick younger sister.

Her certainty began to waver when Florencia Eilish was confirmed as a candidate for Crown Princess at twenty. No, perhaps it was even later when Beatrice Rosen appeared.

Florencia recalled a summer when she was twenty-four, the day the Crown Prince laid his hands on her for Beatrice Rosen.

* * *

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The Crown Prince’s cold voice echoed in her ears. Florencia trembled, covering her mouth, unable to immediately grasp the situation, as she stared at the woman before her.

“…Your Highness.”

Her blue eyes welled with tears. Beatrice, clutching her convulsing shoulders, was backing away, and the whispers of people behind their fans filled the air like fog, refusing to die down.

“Are you alright?”

The Crown Prince’s concerned tone as he embraced Beatrice left Florencia feeling numb. She looked down at her throbbing wrist, feeling a crushing pain.

The Crown Prince was reputed to be the strongest man in the empire. There was no way her wrist could remain unscathed after such a forceful blow.

Florencia muttered like a madwoman, staring at her swollen wrist.

Why?

What on earth had just happened?

It had all started with a seemingly simple mishap. Beatrice had proudly shown off a dress that the Crown Prince had supposedly gifted her, claiming he was full of affection, while Florencia had looked at her with disdain. The high society, centered around Florencia, began to disparage Beatrice…

“…What went wrong?”

She had to ask herself. Showing off a dress gifted by the Crown Prince in front of his fiancée was not a wise move. Even if it was a ‘thank you’ gift for understanding some ‘past issue’ of the Crown Prince, she was his fiancée.

It was unreasonable to expect her to look favorably upon a woman who had entered with the Crown Prince instead of her.

“Lady Eilish, do you know what you’ve done?”

The Crown Prince’s tone was icy as he demanded an answer. It was a voice filled with an anger she had never heard before.

Florencia looked at his furious golden eyes with a blank stare. She realized something.

He would never look at her the same way again. That blind loyalty—wasn’t it the same look she had once given him?

Beatrice had appeared on the day when Florencia’s engagement to the Crown Prince was to be officially recognized by high society. She had been an unknown girl from a humble family.

She had met the Crown Prince’s gaze, exchanged greetings, and stood beside him, smiling. Florencia had naturally disliked her.

Damon had always been indifferent to her. Yet she had loved him. Florencia did not deny that she had fallen in love with him. That was why she had proceeded with the engagement despite being part of the noble faction…

When she had met Damon at her debutante at nineteen, he had seemed pleased.

Yes, he had definitely been pleased. He had used Florencia Eilish to get closer to the imperial power. Florencia was well aware that he saw her as a political tool.

‘And yet…’

Looking back, it seemed foolish, but young Florencia had been content with that. Her blind love for him was so intense that even his insignificant words kept her up at night, attributing great meaning to them.

She clenched her fist.

She couldn’t understand why. She couldn’t accept why the man who had been indifferent for four years since their engagement was now acting as if he had found true love.

“…This lady is your fiancée…”

She looked at her as if she had never heard any rumors about her. As if she had never been taught manners.

If Beatrice Rosen had any sense, she would have at least bowed and stepped back. If she had, the contempt for her might not have grown so large.

“I see. Nice to meet you, Lady. I’m Beatrice.”

She was certainly beautiful, but that was all.

Beatrice Rosen, a daughter of a humble family who couldn’t offer any help to the Crown Prince, had no remarkable qualities other than her deep faith in the goddess worshiped in the empire.

So, on the day she first met Beatrice, Florencia had almost laughed in amazement at her ignorance. She thought the Crown Prince’s interest in such a woman wouldn’t last long.

“But…”

But this insult? Florencia bit her tongue, holding back tears. The Crown Prince, who had once praised her as a helpful woman from a good family, now despised her, saying he preferred a woman who seemed to have no powerful relatives.

However, Florencia, despite her wounded pride, did not let the tears fall.

“Stop.”

The cold voice of her younger sister echoed. It was uncharacteristically firm.

Florencia, startled by the sudden change in the sister she had always thought of as fragile, immediately stopped her lamentations and looked up.

Her blue eyes stared directly at Maharet. It was hard to contain her frustration.

“What did you say…?”

How could you? Knowing how much I love the Crown Prince, how could you dare…

She clenched her fists and glared at her sister. The old Maharet would have blinked her big eyes in immediate fear, but today, she calmly met Florencia’s gaze.

Her younger sister, who had fallen into a coma and nearly died from a terminal illness, had been showing an unusually unstable mental state since then.

It was as if she didn’t even recognize herself as Maharet.

“I.”

Maharet bit her lip. Her crimson eyes, unlike now, used to show a range of emotions.

It wasn’t noble, but there was a mixture of concern and pleading in her gaze. It was clearly affection directed at her.

Florencia waited for Maharet to finish her sentence.

A similar sentence was repeated after a short pause.

“Just. Don’t do it. Don’t do anything to Beatrice. Please, sister.”

You should think of it as something for your sister. Florencia felt wounded by the additional words, and she almost stopped breathing. Maharet tried to continue, and Florencia cut her off, almost pleadingly.

“…Mel.”

The sound of grinding teeth echoed in the room. Florencia warned her younger sister, who had started changing at some point.

“Say another word.”

The items behind her floated silently. The tip of the pen on the desk was pointed at her sister. Fear appeared on Maharet’s face.

It was the first time she had revealed her ability to another person. The pen flew with precision that was eerily accurate, driven by her uncontrolled emotions.

“Her surname is Rosen, isn’t it? The Crown Prince and the Grand Duke both seem unable to regain their senses around her. I don’t know what they see in her. Do you think you can say whatever you want just because you’re a sickly relative and I’ve indulged you? Go on, keep talking.”

It was an incomprehensible anger. Florencia couldn’t stand Maharet, who was cheerfully denying what she herself couldn’t have—love from the Crown Prince.

So, while dismayed by her own inexplicable murderous intent, she couldn’t stop thinking she wanted Maharet, who was hindering her future, dead.

She waved her hand. The pen tip stopped just in front of Maharet’s eyes.

“…”

Mel, her younger sister, stepped back in silence. Her hands were raised gently, as if to calm her. Only then did Florencia see them.

Florencia immediately regretted what she had done.

‘What did I just do?

I didn’t mean to do that…’

Or did she? She looked down at her hand. The wrist the Crown Prince had struck was still bruised and blue. Suddenly, a man’s words echoed in her mind.

I want you to kill someone.

“…Sorry.”

Florencia mumbled an apology, covering her face. Her head felt like it was going to split open.

She still didn’t want to do as the man said. She could resist. She had to.

“I’m really sorry. I lost my temper for a moment.”

It’s all my fault. She muttered this as her head bowed to the ground.

The thought that she might have to endure difficulties in high society because of what had happened earlier made her angry. She just wanted someone to be on her side…

She had briefly hoped for support from her sister, who had been trying to do something ever since she survived her brush with death, and who looked at her without any hostility.

Because she liked the affection in those eyes that looked at her as if she were someone else.

She had always considered her sister to be her only ally in a hypocritical world where even their father saw her as an object.

Florencia struggled to deny that she was at fault but eventually gave up.

The pen that had flown aggressively rolled on the floor.

“No.”

The quiet, calm voice broke her thoughts. Florencia watched Maharet pick up the pen quietly.

“I was too naive.”

I was short-sighted. I never had the power to do anything. What can I do now?

Such murmurs clung to her ears. Florencia, her mind flashing white, dumbly asked, What did you say?

“Do as you see fit, sister.”

“…Mel.”

“I was just worried. It’s not that I want to side with Beatrice. Look at your wrist, sister. I was just afraid you might get hurt.”

Maharet smiled faintly. She added that she meant it sincerely and gently placed a hand on Florencia’s shoulder.

“What just happened is alright. Really.”

“…”

Florencia couldn’t respond. Maharet’s words were mixed with resignation, making them dark.

Florencia couldn’t move. She knew she was the one in the wrong. She feared Maharet’s resignation. The thought that she might have no allies left made her vision blur.

A few tears fell from her chin. Maharet quietly embraced her and spoke in a passing tone.

“It might be better to find another way. That’s all, sister.”

Maharet Eilish likely adopted her characteristic indifference from that moment onward. When Florencia burst into tears, Maharet lightly chuckled.

“Why are you crying, sister? I should be the one crying.”

“…I know.”

“If you stop crying, I’ll bring you some macarons.”

“Shut up. It’s always me… I’m always the bad one.”

“Hmm, it seems like you’re a bit slow to realize.”

“Please, just stop talking…”

Maharet, giving Florencia enough time to cry, quietly closed the door and left.

On that very day, Florencia Eilish bit her lip and vowed never to use her Esper ability again. The anger that had filled her mind until a moment ago was suddenly pushed to the back of her thoughts.

The magician she met when she was young had been right. However, Florencia clenched her teeth and once again denied his assumption that she would strive to kill someone, then stormed to her feet.

She couldn’t let things turn out as he had predicted.

‘My forgotten purity.’

Not you.

Not you, no matter what.

Wiping her tear-streaked hands roughly on her white dress, Florencia urgently opened the door.

There was something she needed to find. The dagger adorned with a red gem.

Florencia’s resolve hardened as she sought out the dagger. She would protect Maharet at any cost.