When Aclea stepped down from the carriage, the line of servants bowed their heads in unison to greet their master. As a kind-hearted mistress, she greeted each of them one by one.
She was still young and beautiful.
On top of that, she had inherited both the duke’s title and his fortune, so no one felt pity for her, even though she was a widow.
Aclea had practically rebuilt the crumbling Belmont ducal family in her husband’s stead.
Even if that had only happened because Tilda had married Winston Nockilla.
In high society, unaware of the truth, Aclea’s reputation grew by the day, and people sympathized with her for the loss of her husband.
Now, this place was no longer a space filled with Tilda’s past memories.
It had become Aclea’s grand mansion.
The servants all followed her lead, and everything in the house had been replaced by Aclea.
But Tilda didn’t resent that.
Thanks to Aclea, her father had been saved, and he had been able to overcome the sorrow of losing his wife. For that alone, Tilda thought she could accept anything Aclea did.
‘Where should I go if I divorce Winston…?’
Tilda was just focused on what was right in front of her, not able to see what was coming next.
━━━━━ ∙ʚ(✧)ɞ∙ ━━━━━
Aclea didn’t make time for Tilda until long after she had returned from her outing. Tilda spent her time in her old room, which had now become a storage space.
Though she was merely lost in thought, time passed quickly, and before she knew it, the room had grown dark.
The maids treated her with just enough respect to avoid being rude. Their attitude was a mixture of loyalty to Aclea and wariness toward Tilda.
It seemed they didn’t want the daughter of a former master, who no longer had much to do with this place, lingering around.
“Tilda.”
Aclea appeared around 10 p.m.
“You must be busy,” Tilda said.
“Well, yes,” Aclea replied with a light smile.
“Shall we head to the drawing room?”
The room Aclea led her to wasn’t the one normally used for important guests.
It was a small, hidden room within the mansion.
Aclea, perhaps sensing Tilda’s curiosity, explained, “The drawing room is under renovation right now.”
The room was small and dim. Aclea lit the fire herself and brewed the tea.
The tea set had been prepared in advance.
As Aclea poured the tea, Tilda’s gaze shifted past the red tea to Aclea’s thumb, which was missing its nail.
That thumb, without a nail, was a reminder.
Sometimes, Tilda would feel suspicion and unease toward Aclea, who had appeared one day and taken over everything. But whenever those feelings arose, she would calm them by looking at that nail-less thumb.
That thumb was a symbol of sacrifice and devotion.
Aclea handed her the tea.
“Here.”
However, there was only one cup.
“I don’t drink tea in the evening. It keeps me awake,” Aclea explained with a soft smile.
Tilda, feeling inexplicably parched in Aclea’s presence, immediately took a sip of the tea.
Regardless, the reason for her visit was uncomfortable to bring up.
But since she needed a place to stay until her divorce from Winston was finalized, she had no choice but to ask for permission.
“Actually…” Tilda began.
But Aclea spoke first, her lips curling ever so slightly.
“I’m going to remarry Winston Nokilla.”
Ah…
The words sounded like a hallucination as Tilda blinked slowly.
There was no sense of reality in the cheerful way she delivered the news.
“Winston… remarriage?”
Tilda, who rarely felt surprised, was now utterly confused.
“…What did you say?”
Aclea trembled slightly, as if suppressing laughter, then calmly repeated herself.
“I said, Winston Nokilla is going to remarry me. He must have told you today about your divorce, right?”
Tilda didn’t get angry or feel incredulous. The situation still felt unreal.
“How…”
“Actually, I have a lot more to tell you today than just about the remarriage.”
Aclea lowered her gaze and calmly stroked the thumb missing its nail with her slender fingers.
“I’ve been preparing for this day for a long time.”
The firelight reflected in her gaze, making it seem like her eyes flickered red.
Crackling sounds from the burning logs filled the heavy silence. The quieter it grew, the more suffocated Tilda felt.
What is she trying to say?
Aclea spoke again.
“You know how people praise me when they see this nail-less thumb, right? That day, I not only saved my husband but also the coachman.”
“…”
“I wanted people to remember my great deeds for a long time.”
Aclea lifted her gaze and looked directly at Tilda.
Her once gentle eyes now gleamed with something dark and ominous.
“So, whenever a new nail started to grow, I pulled it out.”
Tilda realized something was terribly wrong.
Was this the reason for the unease that had always surfaced deep within her when she looked at Aclea?
Watching Aclea casually mention pulling out her own nails, Tilda felt a chill run down her spine.
She didn’t even have time to wonder why Aclea was revealing her true nature now.
“…You’re insane.”
“Yes, I am. But do you know why I did it?”
Tilda glared at her coldly.
But for some reason, the strength in her gaze was fading.
Aclea answered her own question with a faint smile.
“Because as long as people thought of me as a saint, they wouldn’t suspect what I had done.”
A terrifying realization spread through Tilda’s mind like wildfire.
“My husband’s death, it was actually my doing. I made it look like a hunting accident, but I had someone push him off a cliff.”
Aclea’s tone was detached, as though she were speaking about someone unrelated to her.
“Why…”
“I approached him with that intention from the start.”
“…For the Belmont fortune and title?”
“Close, but that’s not the right answer.”
Aclea sounded like a child playing a guessing game.
“To hurt you.”
Tilda barely managed to furrow her eyebrows, her facial muscles refusing to cooperate.
“I hated you. To the point of death.”
Aclea’s golden eyes flickered, the firelight making them seem like hellfire was dancing inside.
“Do you want to hear something else that will break you?”
“….”
“When you were a child, I was the one who gave you that fruit that amplified your divine power. I may have looked different back then, so you wouldn’t have recognized me.”
Her light voice became a storm that capsized the ship of Tilda’s heart.
Her hands trembled, and her mind began to blur.
“…No, that can’t be.”
Aclea was the one who gave her the fruit?
Tilda couldn’t bring herself to believe that Aclea was the woman from back then. The face was certainly different.
But Tilda knew that wasn’t the important part. What mattered was that her mother’s death had not been an accident.
“There was someone behind it all…”
Unable to bear the weight of the realization that the guilt crushing her all this time had been a mere illusion, Tilda’s heart began to shatter.
“…You’re lying.”
“Why?”
“You were only fifteen at the time. You didn’t even know me.”
Aclea clicked her tongue.
“How foolish of you to think that just because you didn’t know me, I wouldn’t know you. I’ve known about you for a very long time.”
“…I never did anything to you.”
“There are people whose mere existence is harmful.”
Tilda gritted her teeth.
“Then you should have attacked me.”
Not the people around me.
Tilda longed to reach out and strangle Aclea’s delicate neck.
Now, even Aclea’s fairy-like face no longer seemed beautiful. She looked like a grotesque demon from the depths of hell.
But Tilda couldn’t move a single finger. Instead, her body weakened, and her vision began to darken.
Tilda struggled to hide her deteriorating condition and asked,
“…Why do you want to remarry Winston?”
“If you die before the divorce, your husband, Winston, will become the heir to the Valinnea family. That’s the law.”
So today, she intended to kill her.
In the end, she had planned this day from the beginning, pushing for Tilda and Winston’s marriage and persuading her to become the adopted daughter of her maternal grandfather, the pope.
She had been dreaming of a future where she held the Duke title of Belmont, Winston’s wealth, and the prestige and power of the Valinnea family.
If she didn’t want things to go as Aclea planned, she had to escape right now, but her body, already drenched in cold sweat, wasn’t responding.
Aclea chuckled.
“And… Winston says he prefers me rather than a stiff woman like you.”
“…”
“I barely managed to stop him from divorcing you sooner.”
The mocking tone of her words made Tilda clench her jaw. He had humiliated and demeaned her up until the moment of their divorce.
Tilda, mustering the strength in her back, finally spoke.
“…If you remarry Winston, the world will scorn you.”
He was Tilda’s ex-husband. Even though they were no longer together, Tilda was still, on paper, Aclea’s daughter.
For Aclea to marry Winston was an immoral act. No matter how carefully she had crafted her image, she wouldn’t escape condemnation.
“People’s attention lasts only a moment. They’re just chattering birds that flit from one gossip to another, aren’t they?”
“…My grandfather won’t recognize Winston as an heir.”
“Well, we’ll see about that.”
Aclea smiled meaningfully.
Tilda gritted her teeth at her reaction, but her body was already beyond her control, swaying unsteadily.
As Tilda finally reached out to steady herself, Aclea approached.
“Oh dear. It seems the drug is taking effect. I wanted to enjoy watching your distorted pupils a little longer.”
By now, Tilda’s vision was consumed by darkness.
“…What did you give me?”
“A poison that steals your sight.”
She felt Aclea’s hand gently stroke her face. The soft and delicate touch of the devil’s palm grazed her cheek.
“I hated your gaze that never faltered in any situation the most.”
“…”
“And the way you carried yourself as if the goddess of Valinnea were watching over you.”
Winston had said something similar before.
Tilda couldn’t understand their words.
She was nothing more than a soulless rag doll, barely surviving each day, her heart rotting from guilt.
‘But even that was a meaningless atonement.’
In the end, her mother had died as a result of someone’s scheme.
Tilda shed bloody tears in the darkness.
Her heart ached as she realized that someone’s anger toward her had harmed her beloved family.
But all she could do now was flail helplessly in the dark.
Aclea spoke softly.
“I could even find pleasure in pulling out my own nails. I’ve always imagined this day.”
Tilda swung her hand toward the source of the sound, but she couldn’t reach Aclea.
Instead, Aclea grabbed Tilda’s wrist.
“It’s time to say goodbye.”
Aclea’s voice echoed nearby.
Even though she was so close, there was nothing Tilda could do now. Not only had she lost her sight, but her body had also gone limp, drained of all strength.
As Tilda finally collapsed in helplessness, Aclea whispered in her ear one last time.
“Farewell, Tilda Valinnea.”
[Hi! Everyone hope you like this chapter and thanks for support💕]
