chapter 4
If the mask so much as got a scratch on it, Desdemona would start screaming and throwing a fit, so it had to be handled with extreme care.
Fiorentia’s mask covered her entire face. The design concealed every trace of expression, making not only the viewer but also the wearer feel stifled.
But if she did not wear this suffocating thing, she could never leave her room.
That was the order of the family head, Desdemona.
“Never show your face. Understood?”
What was worse, any servant who saw Fiorentia’s bare face was mercilessly killed by Desdemona.
That was why the servants of House Marcella called Fiorentia the “Ghost Lady.”
The eerie mask played a part, but the nickname was also born from the fact that seeing her real face could cost someone their life.
The mask was lavishly decorated with milky-white pearls, gold thread, and lace.
“Desdemona really has terrible taste. Giving something this luxurious to someone she hates.”
Letting out a small snort, Fiorentia turned the mask over in her hands before setting it down on the vanity.
Her half-sister hated her to the point of disgust, yet every now and then she would toss her fine things as though giving alms.
That was probably because Fiorentia had the same face as her.
Desdemona treated Fiorentia as though she were her personal mannequin.
Since they shared identical features, seeing Fiorentia dressed in shabby things apparently made Desdemona feel as though she herself were dressed that way.
Well, regardless of that—
“That’s not what matters right now.”
Muttering quietly, Fiorentia shook her head lightly as if trying to clear the tangled thoughts in her mind.
“Haah… So the day finally came.”
After sighing repeatedly, she closed her eyes tightly, as though she wanted to turn away from the bleak reality before her.
This place was the world of a novel titled Honey of Despair, a dark 19+ romance fantasy.
And she had realized she had transmigrated into that world just one month ago.
It happened on another day when Desdemona’s mood had soured over something, and Fiorentia was once again being beaten as the outlet for her anger.
In the inherited memories, such things had always been part of Fiorentia’s daily life, so she did not bother recalling why she was being hit that day.
But Desdemona struck her harder than usual, and Fiorentia lost her balance and staggered.
The moment she collapsed onto the floor, a chilling sense of wrongness swept over her.
Why am I doing this?
Along with the question, she noticed something white rolling across the floor before her eyes.
It was the mask Desdemona had given her.
The instant she saw it, it felt as though lightning had struck her.
She realized she had transmigrated into the world of a novel.
At the same time, memories never described in the original book flooded her mind like a tidal wave—the memories of the body’s original owner.
Her name, status, personality, the countless injustices she had suffered, the emotions she had endured…
She was drowning beneath the overwhelming torrent of information when she heard Desdemona shrieking as though in hysterics.
“You! Put your mask back on! Aaaah! Put it on right now!”
Ah. Right.
Her mask had flown off when she was struck.
“Put your mask on!”
The piercing screams stabbed into her ears hard enough to shake her soul.
Even amidst her confusion and shock, Fiorentia crawled across the floor toward the fallen mask.
Then she hurriedly shoved it back onto her face.
Only then did Desdemona stop screaming.
Recalling that day, Fiorentia let out a cold smile before clicking her tongue lightly.
“Still… Honey? Seriously?”
The moment she remembered the novel’s tacky, childish title, a bitter laugh escaped her without meaning to.
Even if I somehow returned to my original world and told people about this, I’d be too embarrassed to even say the title out loud.
She had little attachment to the life she once lived as Jo Miyeon.
To begin with, she had been an orphan, with no one to rely on, and life had been nothing but harsh.
As if that were not enough, the deposit she had painstakingly saved up had been lost to a rental scam, and she failed the exam she had prepared for over such a long time.
“How can life be this damn miserable? What am I supposed to do now?”
After drowning her sorrows in alcohol with the last of her money, she wandered around drunk.
Then, in one careless moment, her legs gave out.
And unfortunately, the place where she fell happened to be the road.
Looks like I died in a traffic accident before I even had the chance to avoid it.
But of all things, she had transmigrated into a novel she had casually read to kill time.
Life really was impossible to predict.
In any case, Honey of Despair was technically categorized as a romance fantasy.
However, it was such a bleak novel that you could hardly find even the letter “R” from “romance” in it.
That was because the male lead, Theodore, never truly directed his love toward the female lead.
The heroine may have loved him, but Theodore did not love her.
There was another woman he could never forget—his so-called “true love.”
Because he buried that woman deep within his heart, he and the heroine were doomed never to achieve a happy ending.
Even I, someone who enjoys cozy dumpster-fire stories, couldn’t finish reading it because it drained me so badly.
According to the keywords in the story description, Part 1 had a female-dominant relationship, but in Part 2 the male lead seized control and relentlessly cornered the heroine instead.
Apparently it was meant to be a reversal of power dynamics, since the story largely revolved around revenge.
As far as she remembered, neither protagonist had even the slightest redeeming quality.
Before I transmigrated, I thought that was fine.
After all, the world was full of all kinds of people.
It’s not like only kind and righteous people are allowed to be protagonists.
So she had thought it perfectly acceptable for novel protagonists to be like that too.
In the end, both leads were driven solely by selfishness and vengeance.
They endlessly destroyed one another until they finally met ruin together.
And the male and female leads of Honey of Despair were none other than Fiorentia’s half-sister, Desdemona, and the man who had just been brutally beaten earlier—Theodore Beringham.
Letting out a heavy sigh, Fiorentia tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Honestly, this whole mess is because of Desdemona’s insanity. How can the head of a noble house imprison that man?
It would have been one thing if she had not known his identity.
But Desdemona recognized the intruder in the mansion from the very beginning.
Normally, in situations like this, one would formally protest to the other family and simply detain the culprit until compensation was negotiated.
But Desdemona had literally imprisoned him.
Meaning she never even informed House Beringham that their second son had trespassed.
Not that she lacked money or power.
Desdemona simply decided to keep Theodore by her side.
“You’re too beautiful.”
“Love me. I want your love. I want you to become entirely mine.”
The reason was simple.
His appearance suited Desdemona’s tastes perfectly.
Desdemona was obsessed with beauty—a hopeless aesthetic fanatic.
When it came to such matters, calling her insane would not even be an exaggeration.
In any case, Theodore ended up spending deeply humiliating days imprisoned in House Marcella.
Yet no matter how much effort she put in, Theodore never opened his heart to her.
Eventually, wounded by his rejection, Desdemona decided she wanted to turn him into nothing more than a living doll that merely breathed.
In other words, she intended to separate his soul from his body.
It was also an experiment House Marcella had researched for generations on behalf of the imperial family.
The sorcery experiments were conducted in a place called the “Breeding Grounds,” located fairly close to the detached residence where Fiorentia stayed.
It was where Desdemona’s cursed dolls were kept.
Those cursed dolls were vessels that absorbed and stored the madness and venom extracted from an emperor cursed by a dragon. They resembled the training dummies knights used for sword practice.
If one were cut or injured by Desdemona’s dolls imbued with the dragon’s curse, the venom would seep into the wound.
That venom possessed the property of destroying and tormenting a person’s soul.
Using that characteristic, the heads of House Marcella had spent generations conducting experiments to separate souls from living human bodies.
But every single test subject simply died.
There had never once been a successful case.
Desdemona believed the reason was because they had only used ordinary people.
However, finding someone with physical abilities approaching the superhuman was no easy task.
Then, by chance, a Beringham fell into her hands.
Of course, she had not initially planned to use him.
But because he refused to return her feelings, Theodore was reduced to a sacrificial victim for Desdemona’s sorcery experiments.
The more he fought against the cursed dolls, the more he gradually lost his sense of self and reason.
And during that time, the one who took care of Theodore was none other than Fiorentia.
In other words, this body is the male lead’s first love.
Though unfortunately, she was also the woman destined to die and fuel the male lead’s madness.