chapter 7
“Damn it! Untie me right now! What kind of messed-up thing are you trying to do to me this time?!”
“Could you stay still and stop interrupting? Or would you rather pass out again?”
“If you were in my—!”
But Theodore never got to finish.
Deciding she no longer had time to argue, Fiorentia quickly stuffed a rolled-up handkerchief between his lips just as he was about to yell again, gagging him on the spot.
“Mmph! Mmgh! Mmph!”
After that, she ignored him completely.
Every now and then she could hear muffled noises from Theodore through the gag, but that much was easy enough to tune out.
Fiorentia focused her energy once more and guided the poisonous aura again.
The toxic mushrooms released an even denser miasma, and before long Theodore completely lost consciousness again.
The following day, around sunset.
Wearing her mask, Fiorentia stepped out of her room.
‘I woke up way too late.’
She had only just gotten up.
In all that time, not a single person had entered her room.
Within House Marcella, Fiorentia was practically an outcast. No one came to check on her, saying she should at least eat something since she had skipped her meals.
If it had simply been outright bullying, she could have fought back somehow. But what surrounded her was thorough indifference, and eventually she had stopped expecting anything from anyone.
‘No one probably even realizes I’ve gone hungry until this hour.’
A dry smile touched her lips.
The reason Fiorentia had slept so late today was because of what happened the previous night.
To get straight to the point, she had barely managed to expel the cursed doll’s poisonous energy from Theodore’s body.
Once she succeeded in filling his entire body with the energy of the poisonous mushrooms, she seized the opportunity and immediately drew the poison back out of him.
But she had pushed herself far too hard, and the moment she retracted the mushrooms’ energy, exhaustion overwhelmed her.
Her knees buckled on their own, and her breathing turned ragged, yet instead of worrying about herself, she checked Theodore’s condition first.
Theodore’s face, which had been dark as though he were moments from death, had regained its normal color. Even his previously irregular breathing had become much steadier.
However, perhaps because of the immense strain caused by the repeated pain, Theodore had lost consciousness again in the meantime.
After taking a brief rest, Fiorentia removed every last poisonous mushroom.
Then she personally opened the door and ordered the guards to finally remove the “beast.”
That was how she parted ways with Theodore.
‘If I could, I’d give him a proper room and bed, treat him with the utmost care, and send him safely back to his family… but I can’t.’
She had no authority to do such things, and if she wanted to avoid Desdemona’s notice, Theodore would just have to endure some inconvenience.
‘Though the problem is that Theodore definitely doesn’t consider this “some inconvenience.”’
Well, whatever.
What could he do about it? She had saved his life, after all.
For now, he would refuse to believe her and resist, but eventually he would have no choice except to cooperate.
‘I should confirm it with my own eyes.’
She had successfully driven out the cursed doll’s poisonous aura, but since this was her first time attempting something like this, she was worried about his condition afterward. She wanted to check on him herself.
Desdemona probably would not be pleased if she found out, but Fiorentia at least had an excuse prepared.
If she said she simply wanted to perfectly finish the first task her older half-sister had entrusted to her, Desdemona would likely let it pass.
‘Alright. Then I’ll head to the main building.’
Unlike Desdemona, Fiorentia lived in a detached annex some distance away from the main estate.
Hardly anyone ever came to the floor where her room was located unless the service bell was specifically rung.
It was inconvenient, certainly, but she did not particularly resent it.
Rather, she considered it tolerable because it meant Desdemona’s watchful eyes were not constantly upon her.
‘Desdemona looks down on me.’
The original owner of this body had been so timid and cowed that her half-sister viewed Fiorentia as little more than a useless fool incapable of attempting anything.
Lost in such thoughts, Fiorentia entered the grounds of the main residence.
Unlike the isolated annex where she stayed, this area bustled with servants.
But the atmosphere quickly shattered.
“Gasp…!”
The servants visibly flinched the moment they saw masked Fiorentia.
As though merely touching her would bring terrible misfortune upon them, they pressed themselves against the walls and lowered their heads deeply.
Judging by how they could not even bear to meet her eyes, it was clear that the fear born from all the deaths within this estate ran deep.
‘It’s because of this mask.’
To explain why Fiorentia wore a mask, one first had to understand Desdemona Marcella.
Desdemona was Fiorentia’s half-sister and the head of the Ducal House of Marcella.
The Marcella family followed a matrilineal line of succession. As the previous duke’s only legitimate daughter and sole child, Desdemona had been designated heir from a young age and educated accordingly.
For Fiorentia—a mere illegitimate child brought home by Zerka Marcella, the former duchess’s husband, after being born elsewhere—it was something she could never even dream of.
‘Cheating when you’re nothing more than a live-in husband. He really had some nerve.’
With cold mockery in her eyes, Fiorentia recalled her dead father.
Zerka Marcella, the father of the two sisters, had essentially been sold into marriage with the previous duchess because of his family’s debts.
Since it was not a marriage he wanted, he possessed little to no affection for his wife.
He fulfilled his marital obligations only on the nights required of him, and otherwise spent his time wandering outside.
‘Thinking about it, maybe he was just rotten by nature.’
In any case, infidelity came as naturally to Zerka as eating meals.
After all, the only things he truly possessed were his handsome face and attractive body.
Still, one could say he at least had enough restraint not to bring home any children from his affairs.
That was, until one day he returned carrying a child in his arms, leaving the entire ducal household utterly shocked.
That child was Fiorentia.
The symbol of House Marcella was raven-black hair.
Desdemona, the legitimate daughter, inherited black hair from her mother and red eyes from her father.
But Fiorentia was different.
She had inherited every feature from her father: platinum-blonde hair like melted light itself, and vivid crimson eyes.
Zerka loved that child.
And Desdemona envied her.
Even without doing anything, Fiorentia was the kind of child who naturally drew everyone’s attention simply by existing.
Desdemona’s jealousy toward her half-sister surpassed imagination.
Compared to Fiorentia, Desdemona’s appearance was relatively ordinary, and she grew up consumed by inferiority.
While Zerka was still alive, she suppressed those feelings.
But after losing both parents early and inheriting the duchy at a young age, all of those emotions exploded at once.
‘It would’ve been better if Desdemona had simply been an ordinary kind of cruel.’
If that were the case, perhaps she would have merely lived with her twisted feelings, or thrown her half-sister out of the family because she could not stand the sight of her.
‘That might have been easier for both of us.’
But Desdemona, who possessed the supernatural power of sorcery, did not stop there.
Once she rose to a position where no one could stop her, she used sorcery to replicate the appearance she had always coveted—her half-sister’s face—onto herself.
Naturally, if two women who were neither twins nor full sisters suddenly looked exactly alike, people would find it strange.
So Desdemona tossed Fiorentia an elaborate mask and said:
—From now on, I’m going to live with your face. So don’t ever show your face outside again.