Previously
While fetching supplies for Shasha, Cordelia is attacked on deck by a drunken pirate and fights back viciously before being overpowered. A mysterious, elegant man abruptly arrives, slices off the pirate's fingers, and kills him on the spot.
The corners of his mouth curled upward.
“Does that matter? Rather than that—”
She startled as he took a long stride toward her, but there was nowhere left to retreat. She had never seen anyone so tall. His thick, solid build, those massive hands still smelling of blood—it all meant that if he made up his mind, far worse horrors than anything she had suffered thus far could easily befall her.
He was clearly quick to take a hint, halting in his tracks the instant terror drained the color from Cordelia's face. Yet threatening her was an effortless task, even without stooping to ungentlemanly measures.
“Wouldn't how much debt the debtor owes matter more?”
Ah.
The word ‘debtor’ felt surreal, yet sickeningly familiar. People had shown up at their door day after day on account of her father's gambling debts. And now one had tracked her down here! Swept by a sickening blend of disillusionment and dread, Cordelia convulsively shrank back, but nothing changed save the roar of the surf growing louder behind her. The man merely stood in place, blankly watching her futile struggle. His handsome face, regarding her as if bored, was horrific. Panting, she muttered under her breath.
“I—I have no money. Did you come because of my father?”
“To be precise, because you're the sole surviving member of the Marguerite family. The entity who borrowed the money might have been your father, but on paper, I loaned it to the House of Marguerite. Legally, the responsibility for that debt falls on you, the last remaining Marguerite, doesn't it?”
Factoring in interest up to this moment, let's see….
“It should come to five thousand rubles. A short while ago, your father repaid an amount no bigger than an ant's leg, but in the meantime, the interest has grown. And since I had to come all the way out here in person, I'll need to bill for that trouble as well, won't I? I am a busy man.”
He explained it all with such pleasant courtesy, but every word only tightened the noose around Cordelia's throat. Five thousand rubles? Five thousand? She had never possessed even five hundred in her entire life. Swept by sheer injustice, she cried out frantically.
“I never borrowed that kind of money! I—I never took a loan, so why me!”
“None of that is any concern of mine.”
He cut her off in a tone so smooth it bordered on sweet.
“Take your grievances to your father. Right now, what Miss Cordelia Marguerite ought to put that little head to work thinking about is how you're going to pay back all of my money. Do you understand?”
For the record, you won't be allowed to die until you pay back every last cent. Feel free to look forward to it.
In her lifetime, Cordelia had witnessed human wickedness in countless faces.
Yet would she ever, in all her wretched life, encounter another who could wear such an angelic face while smiling like a devil?
Her head spun wildly.
As her vision tilted sideways, his expressionless countenance came into view.
Gazing at those raised eyebrows, Cordelia lost consciousness.
***
Now and then, Cordelia had wondered.
Her mother knew how to avoid falling victim to the Curse of the Mermaid. So why? Why did her mother have to suffer?
It was a truth she had averted her eyes from for a very long time, but whenever life grew exhausting, whenever she looked upon her mother's husband who offered less to be disappointed by each passing day, Cordelia would think:
Could Mother have deliberately left herself to die?
If that agony had been the long, drawn-out method of suicide she chose, Cordelia did not know how she was supposed to make sense of it.
If it truly was suicide, why did it have to be so painful, so grueling?
Why did Mother leave me behind?
“Miss, are you awake?”
When she opened her eyes, instead of a familiar ceiling, a round face densely dusted with freckles was looking down at Cordelia.
An owl? As she blankly stared at those simple, naive brown eyes and murmured, the girl in maid's attire broke into a grin across her tanned face.
“Thank goodness. You were asleep without waking for three whole days, so the master was worried. The doctor examined you and said there was nothing wrong, though.”
“The master?”
She ought to have asked where she was first, but her question slipped out elsewhere. The maid nodded.
“Lord Noah Tudor. He's the one who rescued you, miss. I heard you were captured by pirates.”
“Pardon?”
“Uh, could it be you don't know Lord Tudor?”
How could she not? Was there an imperial citizen alive who didn't know that name? She had heard it mentioned until her ears wore out, even aboard the ship. It was simply that he was a figure completely detached from her world. She had nearly been assaulted by pirates, passed out while being threatened by a loan shark, and now the empire's hero had abruptly rescued her? Nothing about this made a shred of sense.
Seeing her dazed expression, the maid bustled about, fetching a newspaper and pressing a glass of warm water into her hands.
“Have a sip of water first. The master rescued the Mermaid after it was hijacked by pirates, and the whole empire is abuzz with the news! Heavens, to think Miss Shasha Ander was on board that passenger liner too! They say Duke Arsène is terribly grateful and intends to reward the master handsomely. But we were so shocked when the master brought back an unconscious young lady! He's never brought a woman into his personal residence before!”
Listening to the maid's chattering, Cordelia looked down at the front page of the newspaper, which featured black-and-white photographs of the passenger ship involved in the incident along with interviews from survivors.
There was even a photograph of Shasha Ander bundled in a blanket, which gave her an odd sensation. Only after taking in the Mermaid docked at port, surrounded by marines, and the pirates bowing their heads in handcuffs did it begin to feel real. I was truly rescued. Then what about the debt? What about the loan shark?
“Um, but why did he bring me here?”
It would have been far easier to comprehend if she had awakened in a prison, on a slave ship, or even through the good fortune of Shasha Ander's aid, but to suddenly find herself in a celebrity's house defied all logic. Her mind couldn't keep pace.
The owl-like maid tilted her head.
“Indeed. I don't know either.”
Ah, she gasped in realization.
“Could it be you owe money to the master?”
“Excuse me?”
As Cordelia stood slack-jawed, the maid nodded repeatedly as if everything suddenly fell into place.
“Well, unless it was money, there's no reason he would bring you here. Ha, I got my hopes up for nothing.”
“Pardon?”
“Just how much do you owe, anyway? What an awful mess. What are you going to do?”
Her large brown eyes welled with overwhelming pity. Faced with a gaze brimming with genuine sympathy, Cordelia was rendered utterly speechless. While her lips remained parted in silence, a knock sounded from outside.
“Coming! Oh, goodness, where is my head? You must be starving! I'll fetch you something to eat!”
“Ah, wait, um…”
The maid darted out in a flash. Left alone, Cordelia rolled her eyes before unfolding the newspaper once more. Indeed, the claim that the entire empire was abuzz was no exaggeration, with various speculations running rampant alongside the account of the incident.
Having officially retired, Lord Noah Tudor's personal initiative to volunteer for an operation rather than answering an imperial decree has sparked rumors that he may be returning to active military service. However, it is reported that the House of Tudor has offered no further explanation. The eccentric character and actions of the empire's hero are hardly unprecedented, and even His Imperial Majesty…. (Omitted) In some quarters, there are speculations regarding a romance between high society's darling, Miss Shasha Ander, and Lord Noah Tudor. Miss Ander's father, Duke Arsène, has likewise shown profound gratitude and goodwill toward Lord Tudor…. (Omitted) Overjoyed by Lord Noah Tudor's astonishing feat of rescuing every passenger without a single casualty, His Imperial Majesty…. (Omitted) We have succeeded in capturing a photograph of the empire's hero, who notoriously avoids showing his face. Released for the first time exclusively by the Imperial Times. —Bottom Left— …(Omitted)….
So when did the blossoming romance between Miss Shasha Ander and Lord Noah Tudor truly begin?
“What… it's just dating rumors with every breath.”
Cordelia scowled and moved to fold the article, only for her gaze to catch on the profile photograph of the man printed beside Shasha Ander's. Slender and tall, hands shoved in his pockets with a cigar clamped between his lips, he carried the posture of a back-alley ruffian yet radiated an undeniable air of nobility. In the slightly blurred photograph, seemingly taken from afar in secret, the man had tilted his head to glare straight ahead, as if sensing the lens upon him. The sheer intensity in his eyes made him seem alive and moving despite the grainy black and white. Elegant, long fingers holding the cigar like a pianist, delicately sensitive eyebrows, and a piercing, magnetic gaze.
He was a man who knew how to effortlessly overpower and captivate anyone in an instant. As naturally as if he were born to do so.
Yet far more than any of that, what shocked Cordelia was that the famous Noah Tudor, revealed to the public for the first time in the newspaper, was someone she already recognized.
“This man is Noah Tudor?”