02.

Crash—

Henesstia jolted upright in bed at the loud noise of something falling.

Startled, she quickly glanced around, only to hear a sharp voice disguised in a falsely sweet tone.

“My goodness! It’s already midday, what are you doing still in bed?”

“Anyone would think you’re a hard-working lady of the house!”

Rubbing her still sleepy eyes out of reflex, Henesstia raised her head to see two maids standing there, neatly dressed in their uniforms.

They were the maids assigned to her by the Baroness of the Ingel household when she married Count Ingel a year ago.

“I was just about to get up.”

Henesstia slowly rose from the bed, tying her hair up haphazardly, and changed into one of the old, worn-out dresses she had brought with her from the Ardin ducal family before the marriage. The hem was already fraying from being worn too many times.

Her once-prideful, thick pink hair, now brittle and split at the ends, stuck out messily due to how hastily she tied it up.

“Have breakfast, at least,” one of the maids said, dropping food on the table carelessly. The sharp sound of plates clashing together echoed through the room.

This was the unremarkable start to another day.

“It’s such a pain, you know? We have to carry food all the way to your room because you aren’t even allowed to eat in the dining hall.”

“……”

“Anyway, today’s breakfast is olives and bread, so hurry up and eat.”

Henesstia looked down at the meager meal laid out before her.

The very next day after her wedding, she had been dragged to the Ingel Baron’s estate by her new in-laws, the Baron and Baroness.

That was the beginning of her downfall, signaling that her life was about to plummet into misery.

Would it have been better if they merely disliked her?

Though they had bought her for her noble lineage, they found her presence, a reminder of the wealth and prestige they themselves lacked, deeply unsatisfactory.

The subtle harassment, which had begun in silence under the watchful eyes of the baronial couple, soon spread, emboldening even the servants. The fact that the maids now served her such meager meals was proof of how far things had deteriorated.

But, as always, there was nothing she could do.

[You’d better not try anything foolish, or I’ll take back all the money that went to your family!]

Henesstia was not just a prized purchase, but also a hostage. It wasn’t the fear of her family’s financial ruin that haunted her, but rather the terror of her brother’s wrath if things went wrong. So, even in the face of such treatment, she remained silent.

The one thing she clung to was her pride—not shedding tears, no matter what.

“You’re done, right? We’ll take this away.”

The maids snickered as they picked up the tray with the barely touched food.

Left hungry, Henesstia got up on her thin, frail legs.

“The lady of the house is waiting for you. Better get moving.”

One of the maids said.

Whether she liked it or not, her next task was set in stone.

‘Who even made it a rule that I have to greet her every morning?’

Baroness Ingel had never missed a day of demanding Henesstia’s formal greeting, not even when she was ill.

Henesstia, feeling like a lamb being led to the slaughter, walked heavily down the long, opulent corridor.

‘My head hurts.’

The Ingel estate was lavish, more so than any other noble family in the Empire. It was the home of a family whose wealth was so vast that they could live extravagantly for generations without running out of money.

But Henesstia could see through the facade. Beneath the luxury and expensive goods that lined the halls, there was no sense of order or dignity. Everything was just a show of wealth, carelessly displayed.

When she reached the Baroness’s room, a soldier exiting the room smiled awkwardly and whispered to her.

“Her Ladyship is in a bad mood today. You should be careful.”

“…I see, thank you.”

The soldier had always shown sympathy towards her whenever they crossed paths, feeling pity for her situation. His kindness was bittersweet—reminding her of how far she had fallen, to the point where a mere soldier pitied her.

“It’s Henesstia.”

She announced quietly as she entered the room.

The Baroness, seated with a teacup in hand, seemed to have just woken up.

Though Henesstia noticed the Baroness holding the cup incorrectly, she knew better than to point it out, unsure of the kind of humiliation that might follow. As usual, she kept her mouth shut. Whether or not the Baroness knew proper tea etiquette had nothing to do with Henesstia, after all.

“You’re late, aren’t you? What could possibly be keeping you busy when you do nothing all day? Never mind, sit down—I have something to say.”

“Yes.”

Henesstia quietly sat and waited as the Baroness finished her tea.

While she waited, she remembered the soldier’s words and subtly gauged the Baroness’s mood. It seemed he had been right—the Baroness, after finishing her tea, scrutinized Henesstia with more intensity than usual. Henesstia instinctively straightened her back under the sharp gaze.

“Where did you even get such clothes…? How long do I have to watch the daughter-in-law I paid so much for bring disgrace to our family with such shabby attire?”

It was one of the few dresses she still owned that hadn’t gone out of fashion, but its simplicity and the fact that the color was beginning to fade must have displeased the Baroness.

“Our Riad could have been the princess’s consort. And yet, here you are, his wife… What a disappointment.”

Henesstia faltered upon hearing the name of her husband, someone she had never even met, for the first time in nearly a year.

“…I will try my best.”

he responded quietly.

Heron had never failed at anything he set his mind to. Henesstia knew that when the child was born, her brother would kill the son the Ingel family cherished, and their wealth would be stolen. Faced with this inevitable doom, Henesstia could only bow her head in helplessness.

The Baroness’s sharp voice continued to rain down on her.

“You really are something… You don’t do anything, yet you can’t even manage to stay tidy? And what’s wrong with your hair? It’s absolutely disgraceful, child.”

Henesstia truly had no money of her own.

She had come to the Ingel family with nothing but herself, without a dowry, and wasn’t even given a stipend to maintain her dignity. She didn’t even have the right to live in the manor—just barely surviving by keeping the Baroness appeased.

It was no surprise she couldn’t afford high-quality oils or proper skincare products from the peddlers who occasionally visited the estate. She wasn’t provided anything extra for her personal use.

Despite knowing all this, the Baroness berated her endlessly. The scolding lecture continued for nearly half an hour before it finally came to an end.

Exhausted, Henesstia rubbed her aching arm—still sore from recent violence—as she stepped into the hallway. A maid approached her.

“The lady has summoned the merchant. She said you should buy whatever you need, so please prepare yourself.”

This was the first time anything like this had happened in the entire year she had been part of the Ingel family. Henesstia couldn’t help but feel suspicious. Was it a lie?

But when she met the merchant later that afternoon, Henesstia had to hide her bewilderment.

“Greetings, Lady Henesstia! It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Troy, the one in charge of the Ingel family’s merchant guild!”

The merchant had a friendly, open demeanor as he stood before her.

Henesstia was a little taken aback. Of course, she didn’t show it. As a former daughter of a duke, she was skilled at hiding her emotions behind a mask.

“Now, over here, we have clothing, and here’s the jewelry! We’ve also got beautiful brooches and shoes!” the merchant exclaimed enthusiastically.

The situation reminded Henesstia of her past life, back before her father had fallen into gambling. Such experiences had once been frequent but now felt strangely foreign. She listened absentmindedly to the merchant’s words as she glanced over the clothing.

‘What could possibly have possessed the Baroness to do this…?’

Given the state of her worn-out wardrobe, it made sense to buy new clothes. But for the Baroness to encourage it? Something felt off.

“I’ll take this one for you, Lady Henesstia!”

The merchant chimed in, suddenly selecting a flamboyant dress to add to her purchases.

Henesstia, startled, opened her mouth to protest, something she hadn’t done in years.

“That won’t do… It’s too extravagant, and I don’t think I’d have much occasion to wear it. Show me something simpler, more comfortable,” she said, shaking her head.

She had no need for fancy dresses, as there were no parties for her to attend. An overly ornate dress would only complicate her life further.

Besides, she remembered that the Baroness disliked it when she wore such fancy clothing. Simpler, understated outfits were far less likely to provoke criticism. Taking that into account, the dress the merchant had chosen was certainly not the right choice.

At that moment, one of the maids suddenly spoke up.

“The lady has given her permission for you to purchase the items.”

“…When did she say that?”

“I just asked her moments ago, so there’s no need to worry,” the maid replied smoothly, but Henesstia’s doubts only grew.

She couldn’t believe the maid had actually gone to ask the Baroness on her behalf, nor could she believe that the Baroness had agreed to such a request.

But the merchant had already taken the maid’s word for it.

“Then, we’ll proceed with this! Now, Lady Henesstia, why don’t you take a look at the rest!”

After similar exchanges occurred a few more times, Henesstia found herself laden with several dresses, jewelry, and accessories—none of which she had actually chosen herself—due to the maids’ insistence that the Baroness had ordered her to buy them.

“What… what is going on?”

Finally, when she returned to her room, she was met with an unsettling sight: the room was nearly empty.

The excitement that had momentarily flickered in her heart quickly dissipated.

“The lady bought new furniture, so it won’t fit in this room anymore. She’s ordered you to move to a new room on the third floor, the one overlooking the rear garden,” one of the maids informed her.

Not only had new things been purchased, but now her room was being changed as well. It all felt very strange.

Before Henesstia could fully process her confusion, she opened her wardrobe out of curiosity—only to find it completely empty. As she stood in stunned silence, the maid added from behind her:

“The lady said you wouldn’t need the old clothes anymore since you have new ones now, so they were thrown away.”

“Th-thrown away?”

Henesstia’s face turned pale as she stepped toward the smirking maid, her voice trembling with urgency.

“Where are the clothes that were thrown out?”

“Where else? They’re at the incinerator, of course.”

Before the maid had even finished speaking, Henesstia spun around and ran.

She had to get to the incinerator behind the castle. Her shoes broke halfway, causing her to stumble and fall, but she quickly got back on her feet and kept running.

‘The clothes… I can’t lose the clothes.’

Even though they were old and out of fashion, many of those garments had been chosen by her mother, who was now bedridden from illness.

They were clothes her mother had carefully picked out for her, and some even had hand-stitched embroidery her mother had lovingly added.

When Henesstia finally arrived at the incinerator, her arms scraped and bleeding from her fall, she was greeted by the sight of her clothes burning in a pile of ash, glowing red with flames.

Her mind went blank.

Despite knowing this would happen, she had raced there in desperation, and now, she felt a wave of self-pity wash over her.

The fire, bright and red, looked like blood, as though her heart had been torn open.

It felt as though something inside her had become hollow. How many more precious things would she have to lose before she could remain indifferent to such loss?

But Henesstia had no time to wallow in her grief.

“Lady Henesstia? What brings you to such a filthy place?”

A mocking voice came from a man she didn’t recognize.

Startled, she rubbed her bleeding arm and turned to face him.

“…It’s nothing. I… was just leaving.”

Normally, servants were forbidden from addressing their superiors without permission.

‘Even the stable boy looks down on me now.’

The realization of how far her authority had fallen hit Henesstia hard.

Suddenly, an uneasy feeling crept over her, and she began to look around. Driven by a growing sense of foreboding, she grabbed one of the maids and asked:

“The castle seems unusually busy today. Is something going on?”

The maid snorted in response, her expression a mix of disbelief and scorn, as if she expected no less ignorance from Henesstia.

“Of course it’s busy! Everyone is preparing, except for you, Lady Henesstia!”

The maid’s voice was sharp with mockery.

“After all, the young master—Count Ingel—will be returning soon!”

Henesstia froze on the spot.