PROLOGUE

When Cordelia woke up in the morning, she realised that today was her twentieth birthday. On her seventh birthday, she had wished for a big teddy bear. At the age of ten, she had wanted to become a happy princess from a fairy tale. And at fifteen, her only wish was to escape from the suffocating poverty that weighed her down.

“O’ sacred Morning Star that protected Vasquez,” she clasped her hands together and made a wish for her twentieth birthday. “If you have even a sliver of conscience, just this once, please listen to my desperate and wholehearted wish.”

“Please, kill my husband.”

“He’s not dead.”

As she looked at her husband with eyes filled with sadness, the maid by her side offered a gentle consolation. 

“Please don’t worry too much, Young Madam. The Master will wake up soon.”

“Yes, he should.”

She mustered a smile on her face. The maid dampened a towel and began to wipe the hands of the man lying there motionless, almost like a corpse. It had been five long months since Craig Abrams, Cordelia’s husband, had lost consciousness after a fall. The first physician who examined Craig had predicted he wouldn’t survive more than ten days, yet time had passed unnoticed, and five months had gone by.

“I’d rather he died straightaway when he fell. How long do we have to keep clinging onto this lifeless body?”

Cordelia casually murmured the unsettling sentence to herself. Sometimes, when they were alone in the room, she would be overwhelmed by the desire to press a pillow against his face.

“So you’re the Vasquez daughter? Your face’s passable, but your body? I don’t know…”

On the first night, Craig smacked his lips and crudely scanned his bride up and down with lecherous eyes. Cordelia’s face flushed a deep shade of red, humiliated by an experience she had never encountered before. Seeing this, Craig’s two mistresses erupted into mocking laughter.

“Tonight’s our wedding night. How could you bring other women into our bedroom…?

“Yes, I know. It’s something special I arranged just for you. Say hello. This is Alicia, and she’s Elisabeth.”

It didn’t take long for her to figure out who Craig Abrams was. On their wedding night, he shamelessly summoned his mistresses into the bedroom in front of his bride and engaged in frivolous behaviour without a trace of shame.

“Master should wake up soon.”

“That’s right.”

While uttering words she didn’t mean, the door abruptly swung open without any warning.

“Oh my!”

Startled by the sound, the maid accidentally spilt the basin of water she was holding. The water splashed onto the sheets and dripped onto the floor, leaving her pale with shock.

“Goodness, what a mess.”

“What are you doing right now?”

A fussy voice of a woman was heard from behind. Cordelia quickly jumped to her feet.

“Madam, you’re here.”

“Did you pour water on my son’s body just because I wasn’t here? You’re crazy!”

“Madam, actually…”

The maid hurriedly stepped forward to confess, but Cordelia stopped her.  

“I apologise, Madam. It was my mistake.”

“You’re sorry, and then what? Craig’s body is covered with water! Oh, my poor son. To think he ended up with such an incompetent wife… Get up quickly, this mother is so furious she’s about to turn into ashes.”  

The flamboyantly dressed woman dabbed the corner of her dry eyes forcefully with a handkerchief. Cordelia stood there silently with her eyes downcast.

‘Anyone who saw this might think he’s really your son.’

Though they feigned concern for one another, in truth, Helena and Craig harboured a deep mutual disdain. After Craig’s mother passed away, Helena quickly seized the position as lady of the house and frequently criticised Craig’s debauchery. However, when the previous Count passed away suddenly, leaving Helena in a precarious situation, her attitude underwent a complete transformation.

“What’re you standing there blankly for? Can’t you hurry up and clean up the water? How cold do you think Craig must be?”

Cordelia stooped down and wiped the damp sheets herself in response to Helena’s impatient command. Despite that, Helena’s anger didn’t subside, and she spoke harshly to Cordelia.

“Don’t have your meal today. Instead, go to the temple and offer prayers until tomorrow morning for Craig’s safe awakening.”

“I will do as you say.”

“You’re useless. I shouldn’t have allowed you to step foot into the mansion in the first place. Ever since you’ve arrived, everything has turned into a mess!”

“……”

Helena glared at Cordelia with contempt in her eyes, as if she were the cause for all their misfortunes.

“What can you do even if you belong to one of the Sacred Eight Nobles houses? Hmph, everything is crumbling and falling apart at the Vasquez. Do you even know how much money we Abrams have invested in your family?”

“…I’m always grateful, Madam.”

Cordelia forced a smile, making an effort to conceal her festering inner thoughts, for that was the only way she could endure her existence within this household.

The Sacred Eight Nobles.

They were the eight noble families that founded Aerzche alongside the Great King Wilhelm. They were also known as the “Princeps Elector,” as they hold the right to elect the kingdom’s ruler. However, among those eight families, House Vazquez had long lost its former glory and faded into a mere shadow of its previous self.   

‘If it weren’t for my father, I wouldn’t have ended up in such a miserable state.’

Unfortunately, the union between Craig Abrams and Cordelia was not by her own desires, but because of the need for money to cover her ailing father’s medical expenses. Or, to be more precise, she was told;  

“Go and earn some money for my medication.”

Blinded by greed, Cordelia’s father sold off his own daughter. The misfortune of the Vasquez family grew increasingly worse due to their barren land and foolish investments. The scant yield from their dwindling estate became their sole source of income. With only the bare minimum of staff left, Vasquez’s castle gradually deteriorated into a crumbling bastion of dilapidation. Even the meat on the table became increasingly scarce. Despite all this, Cordelia’s father, the Vasquez Princeps Elector, obstinately clung to his pride. Instead, he sold his own daughter.

“Cordelia, my daughter. At last, your worth shall be realised.”

“What do you mean, Father? Surely you do not intend to send me to the Abrams?”

When the marriage proposal from the Abrams first came, Vasquez erupted in an indignant fury. He bellowed that he would never entertain the preposterous idea of some “vulgar upstart noble” who hadn’t even held a count’s title for more than two decades. However, his meagre pride crumbled easily in the face of 500,000 linquets—a sum that hung in the balance between significance and insignificance.

“The wedding date has already been set, so behave yourself with decorum and prepare accordingly.”

“But Father!”

“How dare you talk back to your father!”

“I don’t want to marry him. That man already has rumours circulating that he has five mistresses. If it’s because of the medicine costs, I’d rather talk to Baron Nicsson—…”

“Shut up! What would you know anyway? Tch, reading useless books only fills your head with pointless thoughts. It’s all your wretched mother’s fault.”

Her father clicked his tongue and spoke ill of her already deceased mother. He seemed to have forgotten that when Cordelia’s mother was alive, their finances were relatively stable.

“Sister, heed Father’s words. You’re well aware this is our most viable option.”

“The best? Dennis, how can you say that to me, of all people?”

“Because it’s me that’s why I’m saying it to you. Why’re you being so selfish, dear sister? Enlighten me, how do you propose we afford Father’s medications? Marriage is inevitable. Can’t you do it for the sake of our family?”

Cordelia’s brother, Dennis, who was two years younger, shot back irritably. The word “selfish” left Cordelia dumbfounded rather than angry. Just the money Dennis spent on his swordsmanship lessons alone equated to several years’ worth of the servants’ salaries. Cordelia had to mend her torn dresses repeatedly to scrape together that money.

“Don’t you even dare think about coming back,” her father drove his point home, ensuring she wouldn’t consider running away.

 “If you have to die, you should die there. This is no longer a place for you to return to.”

“Father…”

For a father who was sending his daughter away in marriage, he was uncharacteristically cruel. Cordelia clung to the small window of the carriage, and watched the house she had lived in all her life fade away like a dot on the horizon. She wept bitterly in sorrow, only to dry her tears soon after. It was on that day, sold off to a scum for a paltry sum, that Cordelia realised the truth.

‘The only person I can trust in this world is myself…’

“Don’t just stand there like an idiot, give Craig’s arms a massage or something. Gosh, do I have to tell you everything?”

“…Yes, Madam.”

“And don’t you dare slack off while I’m not around.”

Helena finally left the room after venting her frustrations. Once the door was completely closed, the maid hesitated for a moment before speaking up.  

“I’m sorry, Young Madam. It’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m used to getting scolded by Madam anyway. Emily, if you get on her bad side, you might get fired. Your wedding’s just around the corner.”

“But, it’s not your fault, Young Madam. And to think you even have a proper meal and have to pray until tomorrow morning…”

“I’ll be fine.”

Cordelia gently comforted her with a faint smile, and Emily’s eyes instantly reddened.

“Thank you so much, Young Madam.”

“Don’t cry. Tell me how the wedding preparations are going.”

“Sniff… Yes. I found a dress that belonged to Kevin’s mother, and I’m planning to wear that as my wedding dress.”

It was easy for Cordelia to gain favour and sympathy among the servants. With a mother-in-law who constantly picked on her, a husband who spends time with his mistresses every day, and the rest of the Abrams who looked down on her, it created the perfect situation for garnering sympathy from others. Cordelia purposely embraced the persona of a “pitiful and unfortunate” young madam among the servants after learning such a sentiment circulated among them.

‘Since I’m in a position to be pitied anyway, I might as well use it to my advantage.’

She was being very pragmatic. It didn’t matter which method she employed as long as she gained favour. What was even more crucial was not allow this perceived vulnerability to become an exploitable weakness. Fortunately, Cordelia had the knack to maintain a delicate balance between portraying herself as a pitiable young madam and an approachable one. Behind her gentle smiling face, Cordelia was coldly assessing the situation, more aware than anyone else.

‘If he dies, I’m free.’

If Craig were to die, the countship would pass to another heir, and then nobody would care where Cordelia went. That was why Cordelia prayed every night.

‘Please, kill my husband.’

       To be continued…