Chapter 1
A huge commotion broke out in the middle of the night.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
The security bell rang relentlessly, its shrill noise tearing through the silence of the night.
“There’s an intruder!”
“An intruder has appeared!”
“Everyone assemble!”
The servants of House Marcella, along with the knights and guards, rushed out in perfect coordination.
Lights quickly flared to life all throughout the duke’s estate, which had been swallowed by darkness moments before.
It was bright enough to mistake for broad daylight.
Amid all the chaos and uproar, only Fiorentia remained calm.
Her gaze drifted toward the antique table clock resting atop the worn mantelpiece.
Two in the morning.
Fiorentia slowly furrowed her brows.
“Haah…”
Letting out a long sigh of frustration, she rose from her seat.
‘So it really is going to follow the original story after all.’
Her eyelids closed briefly before lifting again in a slow motion.
Between them gleamed crimson eyes devoid of any trace of drowsiness, as though she had never fallen asleep to begin with.
Pressing a hand to her throbbing temple for a moment, she reached out again and draped a shawl over herself.
In her haste to leave, Fiorentia headed straight for the door—then abruptly stopped.
‘Ah.’
Clicking her tongue softly, she turned around and walked back toward the vanity table.
There, she picked up the white mask resting neatly on top.
Staring at it with exhausted disgust for a brief moment, Fiorentia finally placed it over her face with practiced familiarity before leaving the room.
Today was the day the male lead infiltrated her home.
And the day he would be abandoned and imprisoned.
“Just wait a little longer. I’ll come save you.”
Muttering solemnly to herself, Fiorentia quickened her pace.
By the time Fiorentia left the detached residence and arrived at the main building, the situation had already been settled.
The butler and head maid—faithful servants of Desdemona—were hurriedly ushering away the gathered servants who had come out to watch.
‘So they already figured out the intruder’s identity.’
The reason they were so desperate to eliminate witnesses was simple: Desdemona had no intention of letting the intruder leave peacefully.
They were cutting off every possible route through which rumors might spread.
However, Fiorentia, who had only just arrived, apparently wasn’t considered someone who needed to be driven away.
The butler and head maid merely glanced at the woman wearing the white mask before leaving her alone.
Thanks to that, Fiorentia was able to witness everything that unfolded from then on.
She quietly took a position behind Desdemona, somewhere out of sight, and held her breath.
‘Thank goodness I’m wearing a mask.’
Otherwise, they would have immediately noticed the disgust twisting her expression.
Swallowing a hidden sigh, Fiorentia quietly shifted her eyes to assess the situation once more.
‘That crazy woman. She already knows who he is, so why imprison him?’
Fiorentia felt horrified at the death flag looming right in front of her.
Meanwhile, Desdemona Marcella—Fiorentia’s half-sister and the head of House Marcella—looked down at the kneeling man before her with a sinister smile.
“Hm. I don’t recall ever sending you an invitation.”
Far from annoyed at receiving a midnight intruder, Desdemona was smiling.
Watching that face, Fiorentia pressed her lips tightly together.
No matter how many times she saw it, she could never get used to Desdemona smiling so brightly while wearing her face.
At Desdemona’s feet knelt a man with both arms bound behind his back on the stone floor.
“Theodore Beringham. What brings the second son of House Beringham sneaking all the way to Marcella like a thief in the night?”
“……”
The man gave no response.
Fiorentia carefully examined him.
She absolutely could not let Desdemona notice her concern for the man, so she had to be extremely cautious with her gaze.
Her brows gradually drew together.
Apparently, he had already been lynched.
His condition was terrible.
Not only was he covered in filth, but fresh wounds littered the skin visible through his torn clothing.
On top of that, restraining shackles that suppressed his strength had been fastened around both his wrists and ankles.
Fiorentia shifted her gaze again to her black-haired half-sister standing before him.
‘So the description about Desdemona’s exceptional skill in sorcery wasn’t exaggerated after all.’
To think she had subdued the male lead, a man renowned for his overwhelming strength.
But Fiorentia, having read the original story, knew the truth.
It had only been possible because of the male lead’s self-sacrificing nature.
If that man had truly infiltrated House Marcella alone, he never would have been caught.
He was not someone careless by nature.
Someone who came with him had deliberately betrayed him, abandoned him here, and caused him to be discovered.
And even in this situation, his faith in that “someone” was making him draw attention to himself and sacrifice his own safety.
‘Idiot.’
It wasn’t as though anyone would appreciate it.
Fiorentia pressed her lips together harder, barely suppressing the urge to click her tongue.
While she was thinking that, Desdemona continued interrogating him.
“Why won’t you answer?”
Between the strands of black hair, the man’s blue eyes gleamed cold and deep like an icy sea harboring glaciers.
Desdemona inhaled sharply.
“That look in your eyes is insolent.”
Muttering as though she truly disliked it, she stretched out a hand.
“How very Beringham of you. Standing tall even in this situation. But how long can you keep that up?”
Smirking, Desdemona recited a short incantation.
A crimson aura flowed from her palm, forming a small magic circle in midair.
With a flicking gesture, the magic circle shot forward and embedded itself into the left side of the man’s chest.
“Ugh…!”
For the first time, a groan escaped the man’s lips.
The magic circle flew toward the area near his heart and began pressing against his skin as though trying to burrow inside.
Crackle!
Sparks burst forth, and the acrid smell of something burning filled the air.
Fiorentia clenched her teeth.
‘Haah… So it really came to this.’
That curse.
A vicious spell created solely to force absolute submission.
Once the magic circle was fully absorbed, Desdemona would be able to constrict the man’s heart whenever she pleased.
It was the very first scene in the tragic original story.
But Fiorentia could not stop Desdemona.
If she interfered, the man would die immediately—and she herself would not survive either.
‘Since it’s already come to this, there’s no helping it. All I can do now is wait for the right moment.’
Before long, the magic circle completely sank into the man’s heart.
Strangely enough, not a single mark remained on his skin.
Watching the process with satisfaction, Desdemona spoke.
“Throw him into the underground prison. Starting tomorrow, I’ll use him for experiments.”
“Yes, my lady.”
The butler swallowed nervously before bowing respectfully.
“I’ll make sure no one else sees him.”
“Mhm. That’s why you’re my butler.”
Click.
With her arms crossed, Desdemona stepped closer to the man on her long legs.
“A premium specimen like this isn’t something you can just find anywhere. How did you end up falling right into my hands?”
Still wracked with pain, the man remained hunched over, breathing roughly.
Desdemona stroked his head as though petting an animal before lightly scratching beneath his chin.
“Try being obedient. Then who knows? Maybe I’ll spoil you.”
At the blatant treatment like a beast, the male lead jerked violently in resistance.
But only the clanking of chains echoed through the hall.
He couldn’t even touch Desdemona with a single finger.
For some reason, his struggle seemed endlessly amusing to her, and Desdemona burst into clear laughter.
“You’ve got spirit.”
Even though the man stared at her with eyes utterly devoid of warmth, Desdemona looked thrilled and intoxicated by it all.
‘What awful taste.’
Fiorentia desperately wanted to click her tongue, but instead bit down on her lower lip to suppress the impulse.
Meanwhile, Desdemona continued lavishing praise on him.
“My hair is ugly like a crow’s feathers, but yours… how is it so much like black obsidian?”
The man’s black hair slipped through Desdemona’s fingers with a soft rustling sound.
Watching from nearby, Fiorentia still couldn’t get used to the situation.
Seeing Desdemona use her face to shower someone with affection and admiration felt unbearably strange.
‘Though looking at that man’s face… I can’t exactly say I don’t understand.’
Desdemona was a severe aesthete, and the man kneeling before her was certainly beautiful enough to captivate her completely.
And then—
Crunch!
The man, glaring fiercely at Desdemona, suddenly bit down hard the instant her hand brushed against his lips.