Previously
Madame Shallow vehemently argues with Lady Devillers, leading the Devillers to propose breaking off the engagement altogether. The extreme shock and shame trigger the hereditary Curse of the Mermaid in Cordelia, causing hallucinations, scales on her feet, and severe coughing up of blood.
“It is that illness, isn’t it? The Curse of the Mermaid.”
“Sigh… It seems so.”
“I thought that disease had died out…. Then again, Marilyn was perfectly fine before suddenly collapsing just like that….”
Lady Devillers fell silent for a moment, her mind evidently in turmoil. After a brief pause, she spoke in a suppressed tone, as if having made up her mind.
“I pity that child, but we still cannot let her marry Jonathan. If it truly is that curse, she won’t have long left to live. We cannot take in a bride destined to die.”
“Darling. Did you think I would disagree? Even without this, I have been against this marriage all along.”
Lord Devillers spoke with a troubled sigh.
“Had we brought her in and raised her ourselves the moment Marilyn passed, it might have been different. But that child grew up far too exposed to wretched circumstances and misery. It isn’t her fault, but you cannot wash away what has already soaked in. Misfortune is contagious.”
Those cold words felt like a shallow cut across her heart. Cordelia unconsciously rubbed her chest, though no blood seeped out.
“Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that her father rejected your offer back then. If things were bound to end like this anyway… the grief would have been far too much for us—no, for Jonathan—to bear. He would have grown too attached. Losing Jean was more than enough for us.”
The lady murmured with a trembling voice. They seemed unable to ever fully overcome the loss of their eldest son. Listening to Lord Devillers comfort his wife, Cordelia weakly crawled back into the bed.
It was a room and bedding far too lavish for her current state. Reading the Devillers’ guilt in the luxury wasted on an unwelcome, dying guest, Cordelia covered her eyes with her arm.
When she was young, there had been such a magnificent bed in her home too. Though usually, her mother was the one lying upon it.
Even so, Cordelia had been entirely content just to be beside her mother, who had withered away like a dried flower.
Because having her was better than having nothing at all.
Then, if Cordelia were to vanish from this world, who would mourn her absence?
She thought long and hard, but not a single person came to mind, leaving her deeply sorrowful.
Silent tears streamed down her cheeks.
***
The next day, she was slapped the moment she stepped into the carriage.
“You useless bitch! Why did you hide that you were sick, huh? Do you have any idea what an utter disgrace you brought upon me!”
Her aunt flew into a wild rage, but strangely, it did not scare her as much as it usually did. Was it because she now knew death was near? It felt as if nothing in the world could make her tremble as before. As though the glass barrier that had kept her detached from the world had finally shattered.
Seeing Cordelia’s vacant face, her aunt was about to scream louder, but something unnerved her, and she clamped her mouth shut. For the rest of the journey home, utter silence filled the carriage.
Watching her aunt march swiftly into the mansion while she, a sick niece, weakly dragged herself out, Cordelia slowly closed and opened her eyes. In a single day, her fate had changed. It felt as if nothing had shifted within her own body—aside from being utterly exhausted from vomiting so much blood—making it hard to believe she would soon die.
What was she supposed to do now?
Even she did not know.
She felt partly despairing, and partly utterly numb.
Stumbling into the mansion, her gaze met her father’s, who had spent the entire day nervously jiggling his leg as he waited for news. It was the first time she had seen his face in a full fortnight. Having already heard from her aunt, his face twisted into a scowl the moment he saw his doll-like daughter.
When he strode toward her, Cordelia might have harbored a sliver of hope.
Not a sensible expectation, like him wailing over why she had to die now or desperately scouring for a cure. Just that he might feel the slightest bit flustered or guilty. That he might feel an ounce of pity for his wretched, ill-fated daughter’s misfortune.
Well, foolish thoughts like that.
Even when a rough hand smelling of alcohol grabbed her by the collar, she only looked up at her father with blank eyes. His reddened face was terribly contorted.
“You’re sick? Truly? You’re not just playing tricks because you don’t want to get married, are you?”
Her father’s vehement reaction bordered on despair. Of course, no one present was foolish enough to believe it came from affection for his daughter.
“It’s true, brother! She vomited blood right in front of the Devillers! That same illness that woman suffered from! Ha, but wait, that disease isn’t contagious, is it?”
Her aunt yelled in annoyance before looking suddenly disgusted, but her father didn’t even glance back as he spat out his answer.
“It’s hereditary, you idiot, how could it spread? Damn it, then the marriage is off? Huh? Has my only lifeline turned out to be a rotten rope!”
Being shaken violently made her head throb and ache. She murmured softly that it hurt, but neither of them paid any heed.
“They definitely called it off, right? What did they say over there?”
“What else? They made a whole scene about us trying to sell off a sick child! Ha, pretending to be so kind and noble with all that hypocrisy, but the moment the kid gets sick, they looked thoroughly appalled. You really have to hand it to those aristocrats and their sanctimony.”
“Fuck! And you just let that happen? You should’ve done something to stop them from breaking it off! Do you know how much that marriage was worth!”
“Is it my fault that bitch got sick? Why did you marry a diseased woman in the first place!”
Her chest ached. Cordelia could not tell whether the pain came from her illness or their thorned words. Choking for air, she scratched at the back of her father’s hand.
“Please let go of me….”
As if only now remembering he had been grabbing and shaking his daughter, her father let go with an irritated shove, tossing her aside. Looking down at her crumpled on the floor like a broken doll, the two siblings immersed themselves in figuring out what to do with this ruined clearance goods.
“Damn it, what do we do now? The day to repay the debts is coming up fast. If I can’t sell that thing, I’m finished! Utterly ruined!”
“Couldn’t we sell her off as an old man’s concubine? Surely someone would take her. She’s young and pretty enough.”
“Who’s crazy enough to mess around with someone puking blood everywhere? They’ll think it’s a plague and run! Dammit, would those men even take her? We’d be lucky not to get cursed at.”
Scratching his head vigorously, her father’s eyes suddenly gleamed, and the words he spewed snapped Cordelia’s coughing head right up.
“I’ll have to sell off this mansion. Put it up for auction, scrape together whatever’s left, and get out of here.”
No, anything but that.
This was Marguerite, the place her mother had loved. It was the only thing Cordelia had left. Even if it was an ancient, crumbling manor on the verge of collapse, it was her sole pride and inheritance.
Before she realized it, she was clinging desperately to her father’s leg. No, Father, please. Not here, not this place….
It was a foolish choice. Now that she held no value as merchandise, they had no reason to spare her any mercy. Seeing the hand swinging toward her, she closed her eyes.
She was just a little tired.
Crushingly, unbearably tired.
Ah, I wish I could just die quickly instead.
She had not wanted to learn that they had been going easy on her all this time like this. Though her entire body throbbed as if shattered, Cordelia survived once more. A familiar, suffocating weariness weighed heavily upon her.
“They say you’re going to die?”
Groaning through split lips, Cordelia opened her eyes to find Dorea looking down at her with arms crossed, sneering. As Cordelia blinked at the spite glistening in those brown eyes, Dorea frowned.
Dorea’s expression seemed torn between delight at Cordelia’s downfall and bewilderment at the sheer extremity of her tragic state. Was she supposed to feel relieved that this was at least more human than her father’s reaction? Cordelia did not answer, and Dorea pouted before sneering again.
“Acting so high and mighty just because you had a fiancé like a prince on a white horse… serves you right.”
“…”
“Now you’re no different from me. You’re just a worthless wench. In fact, your situation is even worse. At least I’m healthy, aren’t I? If I catch a man, I can bear children. Even if you get sold off, you won’t even be able to have a child. Not with that body.”
“…”
“Even if you did, what good would it do? You’d just pop out another sick kid like yourself. Your mother passed that disease onto you, didn’t she?”
At those words, Cordelia’s expression, blank the entire time, finally shifted. Seeing it, Dorea flinched for a moment before bristling with a venomous sneer.
“Did I say anything wrong? It’s the truth.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“What?”
“What do you gain from hurting me? Does it make you happy? If I cry, will you finally stop and leave?”