chapter 9
Fiorentia gathered up the hem of her dress and lifted it slightly.
She hopped neatly over a filthy puddle and stepped inside. The interior was brightly illuminated by torches.
Near the entrance stood a staircase leading downward.
“My lady, would you please go down the stairs?”
Fiorentia, who had been silently staring below, turned around at the voice coming from behind her.
“Why?”
She asked again, half expecting the butler to come up with some excuse to follow after her.
“You're not planning to come in with me, are you?”
The butler hesitated.
Although her expression was hidden behind the mask, he was no fool. He could clearly hear the displeasure in her voice.
Before he could say anything further, she quickly added,
“Butler, aren't you busy? You can go now. All I wanted from you in the first place was for you to guide me here.”
Her tone drew a sharp line between them, as if to say she had no further use for him.
The butler stopped at her unwelcoming words.
“...Will you be able to go down by yourself?”
Fiorentia let out a laugh of disbelief.
“Of course. It's not like I'm a child.”
The more she thought about the question, the more absurd it seemed, and she snickered under her breath.
Even after her refusal, the butler still seemed reluctant to leave the doorway.
“But—”
Fiorentia was beginning to find the standoff irritating.
“The beast is chained up anyway, isn't it? What exactly is the problem?”
Crossing her arms, she made it clear that her decision had already been made and would not be reconsidered.
Faced with her stubborn attitude, the butler reluctantly accepted that he had no choice but to back down.
No matter how much the family head disliked her for being an illegitimate child, Fiorentia was still someone who bore the name Marcella.
He could offer advice, but overturning a decision she had already made was neither easy nor appropriate.
The butler was a man who understood his position and limits well. That was one reason he had attained his current rank at such a young age.
The person whose orders took absolute priority was, of course, the family head, Duke Desdemona Marcella.
And at the moment, Fiorentia was carrying out Desdemona's command. Following her instructions was therefore the proper course of action.
Besides... it feels like she's changed lately.
Although their paths rarely crossed due to their different routines, the difference was unmistakable.
Compared to the past, when Fiorentia would shrink under Desdemona's oppressive presence, she had recently become strangely indifferent.
It wasn't quite confidence.
Whatever it was, he found her much harder to deal with than before.
Having made up his mind, the butler bowed politely toward Fiorentia, who stood farther inside.
“Very well. Then...”
“Mm. Good work. You can go.”
Still standing with her arms crossed, Fiorentia lazily waved one hand as though she had no intention of listening to the rest.
Even then, she didn't forget to tilt her chin arrogantly, signaling for him to close the door before she went downstairs.
The butler obediently complied.
Thunk.
Only after the door shut behind him did Fiorentia turn back toward the staircase.
Torches lit the walls leading underground, but the mask made her vision darker and more restricted than usual.
Since removing it wasn't an option, she quietly muttered a curse through gritted teeth and descended while keeping one hand on the damp wall.
The narrow, steep staircase soon came to an end.
When she stepped off the final stair, a spacious underground prison came into view.
Most of the cells were empty, but a guard stood motionless in front of the innermost one.
He was a familiar face.
He had been one of the guards who, following her orders the previous night, had carried the unconscious Theodore down here.
The man stood before the iron bars with a baton at his waist, as though he were the jailer.
Fiorentia swept her gaze over him and let out a dry laugh.
If Theodore were free of restraints and truly set his mind to it, that little baton wouldn't stop him.
Though he had only recently been knighted, his skills were far from those of a novice.
His strength rivaled—no, easily surpassed—that of warriors who had trained for years.
He deliberately kept a low profile, but among the Beringham bloodline, he was supposed to be a once-in-a-generation genius.
Had he not been betrayed by someone he trusted completely, he would never have been captured so easily.
Fiorentia studied Theodore more carefully.
He sat with his head lowered.
The restraints on his hands and feet were connected to chains embedded in the wall, severely limiting his movements.
If those were ordinary shackles, Theodore would have broken free in no time.
Unfortunately, these had been crafted personally by Desdemona, the greatest sorcerer of the age, and they absorbed all of his power.
After assessing the situation, Fiorentia frowned beneath her mask and approached the cell.
The guard recognized her from the mask.
“You've arrived, my lady.”
“Mm. Anything unusual? Did he cause any trouble?”
“No, my lady. He's been quiet.”
The corners of Fiorentia's lips twisted slightly beneath the mask.
She looked at Theodore again over the guard's shoulder.
She had already neutralized the poison, so his physical condition should be perfectly fine.
If he was acting like a dead mouse now, then he was clearly hiding the eagle's talons on purpose.
But she had no intention of pointing that out.
If Theodore wants to act this way, that's actually helpful for me.
It would make deceiving Desdemona much easier.
For now, it seemed best to play along.
Tilting her head as though genuinely puzzled, she tapped the cheek of her mask with a fingertip.
“Really? That's strange. I wonder why.”
Her tone wasn't serious at all, but the guard didn't seem to find it odd.
Changing the subject, she asked him,
“By the way, have you eaten yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“Really? Skipping meals isn't good. I'll watch things here, so go eat.”
The guard immediately refused.
“It's fine, my lady. I'll eat when my shift changes at midnight.”
“Why make the head cook suffer? And what are you planning to say if they ask why you're only eating now? Don't you think that would seem suspicious? Stop wasting time and go eat. And when you come back, bring something for that guy too.”
“Him as well?”
“Of course. Aren't you taking him back to the beast enclosure later? His injuries still haven't healed completely. What if he gets hurt even more down here? Malnutrition will only slow his recovery. Do you think my sister would like that? Can you take responsibility if she doesn't?”
Desdemona was the tyrant of this family.
The guard briefly imagined the fierce reprimand that would rain down on him and shuddered.
Using Desdemona's name really does make things easier.
Fiorentia decided it might not be a bad idea to continue making use of Desdemona's authority from time to time—as long as she didn't overdo it.
She jerked her chin toward the staircase.
“Go on.”
Then, worried that she might appear too eager and arouse suspicion, she added,
“Just don't take too long.”
“Yes, my lady. Thank you for your consideration.”
“Oh, right. Leave the key with me. I need to check his injuries before he's taken back to the enclosure.”
“If that's the case, shouldn't I assist you?”
“It's fine. Looks like he's completely out of it anyway.”
Her eyes curved into crescents.
Truthfully, she felt a little regret.
If I weren't wearing this mask...
She was confident the guard would have handed over everything he owned after one look at her face.
Fiorentia Marcella's beauty was that extraordinary.
It's annoying having to take the long way around when there's such an easy solution.
Clicking her tongue inwardly, she extended her palm toward the guard.
Swept along by the atmosphere, he absentmindedly handed over the prison key.
“Then... I'll be right back. Please wait a little.”
“Mm.”
Fiorentia responded carelessly in a light tone and saw him off.
Even at the foot of the stairs, the guard lingered hesitantly before finally beginning to climb.
Only after the sound of his footsteps faded into the distance did she turn toward the cell again.
A moment ago, Theodore had been sitting with his head lowered like an unconscious man.
Now he was staring at her with sharp, blazing eyes.
Fiorentia smirked.
“Looks like you've been waiting for me.”
“...Marcella.”
His low voice, tinged with the sound of grinding steel, echoed through the underground prison walls.