Previously
Cornered on the ship, Cordelia faints from terror as a handsome moneylender demands 5,000 rubles for her family's debts. She awakens three days later under the care of a maid named Jan in an unfamiliar villa, learning she was rescued by the imperial hero Noah Tudor.
It was the very same moneylender who had slaughtered the man trying to rape her, only to bluntly demand repayment in the next breath.
‘Am I dreaming?’ As she dazedly rubbed her eyes, Noah Tudor's face grew clearer. This time, it appeared in vivid color, looking even more real. Yes, as if he were truly alive and moving….
“Did the picture turn out well?”
“Eek!”
Cordelia started violently and tumbled over, while Noah Tudor simply stood with his hands behind his back, staring down at her pathetic display. It was that same observational gaze bordering on contempt she had felt that night. A peculiar look, seemingly cold and dry, yet tinged with a languid, subtle curiosity.
‘Like a predatory feline.’
Gulping nervously, she looked back and forth between the newspaper photograph and the man before her, prompting him to speak with feigned gentleness.
“I suppose we can skip the introductions, then.”
“Are you all right?”
His tender voice was downright sweet. In truth, such a gentlemanly demeanor suited his handsome facade and his illustrious deeds perfectly, yet it clashed jarringly with Cordelia's memory. When she nodded in bewilderment, he murmured a satisfied, “Splendid,” before taking a seat in a chair with fluid grace. Then, as if calling a dog, he snapped his fingers to draw her attention.
“Shall we finish the conversation we left off last time, then?”
“Um, are you the one who saved me?”
His eyebrow twitched.
“I believe I already cleared away that vermin right before your eyes. Surely you haven't forgotten because of the shock, have you?”
“No, no. That is… well. Are you truly Lord Noah Tudor?”
Instead of answering, he merely let out a short sigh, murmuring, “Dear me.” That breath conveyed his pity that she was either brain-damaged from trauma or simply too stupid to grasp the obvious circumstances. Unfortunately for him, Cordelia had grown up walking on eggshells and instantly caught the thinly veiled derision and annoyance.
She hurriedly pressed on with another question.
“Did my father… borrow money from a place called Raven Bank?”
“I do not engage in illegal loan sharking, Miss Marguerite.”
Considering the murderous unsecured interest rates and the ruthless methods used to squeeze every last penny out of everyone, it was practically a loan shark operation, yet Noah appeared completely untroubled by his conscience. Then again, Cordelia belatedly realized that demanding money her father owed from a woman who had just survived an assault went entirely against common decency.
Whether she was dumbfounded or not, Noah Tudor produced a document from his inner pocket and held it out.
“A total of five thousand rubles. It is a legal formality, so please verify it. Not that my calculations could ever be wrong, of course.”
The final remark sounded rather brazen, yet his utter conviction made it feel as though it were only natural.
For a while, the only sound in the room was the rustling of turning pages. Meanwhile, Noah Tudor wore a bored expression, lifting his teacup of black tea to breathe in its aroma like a bird selectively picking only the sweetest fruit from the brunch tray the maid had brought.
As he sipped his tea, his sunset-colored eyes quietly observed the subject before him. In truth, he was doing so simply out of boredom, yet once his gaze landed on her, she made for quite a sight. The young woman of tragic fortune had skin as pale as a northerner's, hair of lustrous silver resembling mother-of-pearl, and deep, somewhat sorrowful eyes of a mysterious jade hue.
The waters of the southeastern sea looked just like those eyes. It was the shade of an abundant ocean where corals flourished and all sorts of fish cut through the currents, yet strangely, there was no sign of life in the woman's eyes. It was utterly still and calm, like a frozen expanse of ocean or a landlocked lake unable to flow out to sea.
‘A sea without waves.’
It was a fleeting impression, yet somehow it lingered in his mind.
Before long, having checked the entire document, Cordelia's face drained of color.
What this made abundantly clear was that her already brief life was now well and truly ruined.
‘Ah, if it was doomed anyway, I should have set fire to Father's room before leaving. Hahaha.’
“Where is my luggage?”
Cordelia, who had been hanging her head, murmured softly. Having miraculously caught that tiny voice, Noah curled the corners of his mouth.
“Is there something in it?”
“Just, please, check for me. Did I lose my luggage?”
That small face, which had previously held only stubborn anger, resignation, bewilderment, and exhaustion against every injustice, was now brimming with urgency and anxiety. Watching her intently, his gaze drifted slowly toward her right cheek, where the swelling had subsided. It had been swollen to the point of being unsightly, but her recovery seemed quite swift.
Fixing his eyes on the faint bruise, he lazily snapped his fingers, and a secretary waiting outside brought in a battered valise. The moment her anxious, trembling, light green eyes spotted it, they widened with profound relief.
“Th-thank you.”
Under his steady stare, Cordelia hurriedly rummaged through the bag, pulled out a teddy bear, let out a sigh of relief, and bowed her head repeatedly. Noah murmured with a curious lilt.
“Retrieving a mere teddy bear garners more gratitude than saving a life, it seems.”
It was impossible to tell whether he meant it as a playful joke or pure sarcasm. Even so, overwhelmed by relief, Cordelia clutched the teddy bear tightly and spoke.
“It is a keepsake from my mother.”
And lonely Cordelia's only friend. She left the latter unsaid, fearing ridicule, and looked into the crimson eyes studying her with his chin resting on his hand. Running her tongue along the inside of her mouth as she chose her words, Cordelia slowly began to speak.
“First, I am truly grateful that you saved me. However….”
Noah offered a generous nod.
“I am terribly sorry, but I have no means to repay that money. Furthermore….”
‘I am going to die soon anyway.’
She swallowed back the rest. A brief silence fell. Struggling with all her might to keep her drooping head held high, Cordelia stole cautious glances at the man who sat motionless, merely staring back at her.
Then, taking in his surreal splendor bathed in the morning sunlight, she gradually found herself mesmerized. His platinum hair, looking as soft as though spun on a loom by the gods themselves, his refined brow, his picture-perfect eyebrows, and his deep amber-red eyes that seemed as though they might smell of roses gave him an impression as delicate as an angel's; by contrast, his firm jawline, masculine Adam's apple, and lips etched in sensual lines were provocative.
In fact, rather than his appearance, it was the languid yet razor-sharp tension he radiated that made it impossible for anyone sharing a room with him to ignore his presence. For better or worse.
One thing was certain: in Cordelia's wretched life, there would never be another person as intense as this man.
“Did you inherit those eyes from your mother?”
She blinked at the sudden question. When she failed to answer immediately, he kindly repeated himself, but the slight furrow of his brow made it clear he disliked saying the same thing twice. She promptly offered an earnest reply.
“Yes. I was told most of the relatives on my mother's side share them. My maternal grandfather did as well, and…”
“An unusual color. As if they hold an entire ocean. And your hair resembles pearls.”
“Lovely. Such a color is difficult to capture even in a painting.”
As he showered her with compliments in that melodious voice, a ticklish heat crept over her entire body. Even though the situation hardly called for it, a strange, embarrassing sensation washed over her. ‘Ah, it's all because of that face and voice….’
“I want them. How much would it cost to own those eyeballs?”
“Thank yo… pardon?”
Her mouth fell slack. He chuckled like an amused child. Then, he spoke in a tender voice.
“Miss Cordelia, asking questions back makes you look easy and foolish, so I suggest you break the habit.”
“Ah, yes.”
She almost reflexively thanked him before clapping her mouth shut. Even Cordelia knew that expressing gratitude here would be practically announcing herself as an idiot.
“So, according to your claim, Miss Cordelia, all you have left right now is that pretty little body of yours, isn't it? As your ostensible creditor, I must know the value of the collateral, so we ought to appraise it at least, wouldn't you say?”
With a voice as smooth as an aria, he casually reduced Cordelia from a human being to an object. It was rude, yet for him, it was surprisingly courteous. Having heard insults so often that they had become routine, Cordelia felt no anger as she looked up into the crimson eyes narrowed with amusement and asked,
“Am I worth five thousand rubles?”
“Well now. Even if it costs a bit, I do find myself wanting those two eyes.”
He made no attempt to conceal that he meant every word.
Watching his peculiar expression as he licked his dry lips, Cordelia was reminded of eyeball specimens preserved in jars of alcohol. Coming from a man of his remarkable beauty, such words might easily have been mistaken for romance, but she could not fail to see that Noah Tudor's greed was pure possessiveness in its rawest form. For no sane person would ever deliver such a chilling confession right to someone's face.