Chapter 8
A voice utterly devoid of emotion settled over Clarissa’s head, plunging her into shock.
Something slammed heavily inside her. Her jaw fell slightly open, and the wide-opened eyes burned.
“Yes, our Lisa. Your father has already sent over a formal letter of annulment, along with a modest consolation payment.”
How had things come to this? Even as dizziness washed over her, Clarissa traced the starting point of the incident.
Right—she’d mentioned that they would be visiting the Mathias household tomorrow. And now, this.
“A joke… right? Haha.”
“Oh my, dear. Have you ever seen your father make jokes?”
Never. Not once.
Clarissa tried to laugh it off, but failed all the same.
A crushing sense of defeat—one she had never felt in this body—made her shudder.
No—my golden life plan!
A soundless scream spun wildly inside her head.
“Dear?”
Seeing her complexion darken, Eclea called out to her beloved daughter.
There wasn’t a trace of malice in that gentle voice.
“Is something wrong?”
“Why would you do this? It’s only been a week….”
Despite herself, words full of childish resentment spilled out.
Clarissa’s hands trembled violently.
Regardless of her reaction, the two of them didn’t seem particularly concerned. They merely said,
“The sooner, the better, with things like this.”
“Exactly, Clarissa. You cut off hopeless sprouts early. That way, you won’t harbor pointless fantasies.”
Their words raked mercilessly at Clarissa’s insides.
Oh come on, Mom, Dad—read the room.
The one harboring those “pointless fantasies” is your daughter, you know.
Feeling like burying her nose in her plate, Clarissa glared resentfully back and forth between her reliable father and her ever-loving mother.
Perhaps the reason Clarissa had grown up with such a hopeless personality was genetic after all.
Mix the two of them in the right proportions, and a child like Clarissa would surely result.
Haha. Twisting into a crooked smile inside her head, Clarissa pressed her fingers to her forehead.
“But still, shouldn’t we at least meet face-to-face—”
“Oh my, wasn’t it already settled in person?”
“Even if not, that much effort is more than enough for the Mathias family.”
Clarissa couldn’t argue with any of it.
Especially when it came to money, Vestas and Clarissa were frighteningly aligned in their views.
From one corner of her heart came a little voice: Yeah, that should be enough. Aryan probably wouldn’t feel all that bad either. Money really is the best!
Damn it, no! Don’t agree with them!
The rational side of her—the writer Kang—screamed. She forcibly stopped herself from nodding along.
“To ask for more would be downright shameless.”
Vestas folded his lips gently.
He lifted his wineglass with elegance and swirled it slowly. The red wine sloshed, releasing its distinctive aroma.
“I sincerely hope you won’t indulge in such pointless greed.”
With a heavy weight, Vestas’s gaze settled coldly.
Clarissa rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath.
No, see, that’s exactly the greed I want to indulge in.
I’ll dab some medicine on the conscience that keeps stabbing me whenever I see Aryan, apologize to Writer Park later, and shamelessly take a peek at the future duchess’s seat too!
This couldn’t go on. Clarissa decided to pull out her last resort.
“Um.”
World-weary desire lifted its head.
At the same time, a voice lower and cooler than usual slipped out of Clarissa’s mouth.
Then, squeezing her eyes shut, she raised her voice and declared,
“…I’m not breaking off the engagement!”
“Clarissa?”
“What are you—?”
Her parents’ startled voices struck her ears.
The meal had long since stopped. Even the attendants waiting behind them held their breath.
Seizing the moment of their stunned silence, Clarissa hurriedly added,
“If this ends in an annulment because of this—”
She’d worked so hard to calm things down, to put things on hold and start as friends. And yet, only days later, an annulment letter had been sent.
Clarissa had never been a particularly obedient young lady, but at this point, Aryan would be well within reason to question her sanity.
Deliberately plastering an angry expression over her pitch-black inner thoughts, Clarissa finished her sentence.
“If Aryan ends up hating me…”
Gulp.
Both Eclea and Vestas stopped breathing and swallowed. Their daughter’s narrowed eyes now belonged to someone they’d never seen before.
“I’ll hate everything.”
Vestas’s mouth fell wide open.
Eclea already had tears welling in her eyes.
They might not have been perfect at raising a child, but when it came to loving Clarissa, there was not the slightest lack.
A sharp pang of guilt throbbed in Clarissa’s chest, but she had no other choice.
Even if she drove a nail into her parents’ hearts now, one day they would shed tears and nod in acceptance of her decision.
Yes—this was all for the future of House Lisette.
Having rationalized it that way, Clarissa spoke more lightly,
“And I’ll run away from home.”
“What…?!”
“Lisa!”
The golden light vanished from Vestas’s pupils. Eclea burst into tears like a torrential summer rain.
Paying them no mind, Clarissa nodded firmly, her gaze resolute.
Sorry for being a fire-element filial daughter, Father, Mother.
A small yet imposing villa of Count Mathias, hidden deep within a secluded forest far from the capital of Myrga.
In the cool garden, where even sunlight barely reached, a woman stood letting the breeze brush past her.
The beautiful woman, her golden hair elegantly pinned up, took a sip of the tea before her, then another sip of the gentle wind. At last, she cast a sidelong glance at the letter that had been resting on her lap for some time.
House Lisette.
Two horses and an olive branch delicately embossed into red sealing wax.
A peerless house of power—one that would not fall short even when compared to the Grand Duke of Skadia, bearer of imperial blood, or Duke Barkisa, famed for raising the first Swordmaster.
A small flower bloomed upon the woman’s red lips.
Her softly curving eyes only enhanced her beauty.
Slender fingernails mercilessly tore away the marquis’s seal. The rustle of paper was swallowed by the forest’s wind-song.
Lifting her chin, the woman carefully took in every word embroidered upon the page.
Before long, the smile vanished from her face.
“Ha.”
With a twisted laugh, she crumpled the letter without hesitation.
Her gaze sharpened. Her blazing red eyes brimmed with deep-seated fury.
Her lips twitched, as if they had held something filthy.
“Useless trash.”
There was only ever one target of her rage, today and tomorrow alike.
Her husband, Count Mathias’s firstborn son—the true heir and the family’s greatest enemy.
Aryan von Mathias.
A dense forest on the boundary between the capital and the Lisette domain, so thick that even midday sunlight scarcely penetrated.
The long, straight structure of the Mathias family’s villa stood there.
Clarissa straightened her back stiffly and scanned her surroundings.
Passing down a corridor where crookedly hung still-life paintings with chipped frames lined the walls, she stopped before a weathered wooden door, its paint long since peeled away.
“Please wait a moment.”
Hearing the polite yet oddly curt words of the butler, Clarissa stepped inside.
The reception room she was led to was spacious—but correspondingly barren.
Despite it being her first visit, Clarissa felt a strange sense of familiarity as she looked around.
This was the place where Lady Mathias, soon to be a widow, had never failed to bare her desires.
Furniture steeped in the weight of a century, befitting the estate’s age. Fine silver powder flaked from the wallpaper and dampened the floor. The tapestry embroidered with the Mathias crest was riddled with stains both large and small.
Perhaps because she had already glimpsed what lay ahead, even the black grime clinging to the floor looked like traces of someone’s blood.
Surely, the darkness of this estate did not end here.
Clarissa’s lips dried tightly.
This was where Aryan had lived, enduring his stepmother’s psychological abuse.
[A flower that blooms in mud is beautiful, and fruit only grows sweet when you twist its stem.]
“Shut up.”
Clarissa snapped lightly at the familiar voice ringing in her ears.
Marie looked at her in fear, but even that was familiar.
“Tch.”
Familiarity did not make it any easier.
Clarissa sensed that the day when rumors spread of House Lisette’s Clarissa having finally lost her mind was not far off.
Even without that, every time Clarissa felt something connected to Aryan, she felt like she was truly going mad.
Her small hands curled inward.
There was only one way to resolve it.
…I’ll take responsibility and make sure you walk a path of flowers.