Previously
This is the title and publication copyright page for the novel. No narrative events occur.
“Except, fuck it, whenever you hurt, I hurt twice as much.”
Even though you couldn’t care less about my wounds.
“Has there ever been a relationship this unfair?”
As if he had never imagined love could bring such misery, he let out a self-derisive sneer before kissing her tenderly. The ache in her chest deepened at that. More than any other pain, it overwhelmed her very soul.
Cordelia kissed him first, wanting to look away from the resentment and hurt gleaming beneath his fury. The rough growl resonating low in his throat tasted sweet. Even as he told her he was in agony because he loved her, Cordelia felt a joy that hummed deep inside her marrow. She, too, had never known that love could take a shape so greedy and selfish.
“I’ve never been on the short end of a contract in my life, but I sure made a raw deal here. But what am I supposed to do? I’m still crazy about you, even after you stabbed me in the back and ran away.”
“…”
“Leech off me. Do whatever you want. Just stay by my side.”
Until I grow tired of you.
Only after he had fallen asleep did Cordelia pull the bedclothes aside and sit up.
Watching the platinum hair bathed in moonlight gleam like sheaves of dried golden wheat, she gently brushed her fingers through it so as not to wake him.
Soon slipping from the bed, her willowy frame swayed for a moment before she straightened her back and stepped out of the bedroom.
Her ears felt muffled by the relentless call of the sea.
The roar of the waves continually crashing and shattering into white foam echoed loud as thunder.
Cordelia looked down at the ocean, which would flow on unchanged even if it swallowed her whole.
Time was running out.
It felt as if she were paying the price for ignoring her mother’s counsel.
If she could see her now, she would surely be disappointed in her foolishness.
Yet Cordelia had been utterly powerless against falling in love with him.
Because she had never met anyone so cruel, so brilliant, so tender, and so eager to want her.
“Cordelia!”
So if asked whether she regretted loving him, her answer was still no. Miserable and agonizing as it was, the only things left in her wretched life were the time and the heart she had shared with him.
Turning away from the man rushing out toward her, his face pale with fury and panic, she threw herself into the sea without hesitation. The waves churned.
She prayed desperately for the sea to wash away everything within her. The pain, the sorrow, the resentment, the loneliness, the hope, and even the love. Every last trace of it.
In her ceaselessly sinking vision, the glistening surface swirled and shattered, and a dark shadow surged toward her like a darting dolphin, pulling her into an embrace. Air filtered between her lips, and fierce red-gold eyes blazed.
Feeling his firm grip around her waist as he strove powerfully toward the surface, Cordelia closed her eyes.
What will become of us?
***
Her eyes flew open.
Gazing blankly up at the familiar, darkened ceiling, Cordelia sighed and buried her face in the worn teddy bear she was clutching tightly.
Whenever she woke with this heavy heart beneath the same ceiling every morning, a contradictory thought invariably gripped her.
I’ve made it safely to another morning, or… yet another wretched day begins.
She lay there in a daze, steeped in a strange lethargy, before staggering to her feet. Hunger had driven her up, indifferent to her mood. Ironically, no matter what thoughts troubled her, the world kept turning; she grew hungry when it was time, and she grew sleepy when it was time. Absurd as it seemed.
Cordelia skillfully dressed herself in a modest gown—one that had belonged to her late mother as a maiden, altered and washed countless times—before kissing the cheek of Jeje, the teddy bear sitting demurely on her neatly made bed. “I’ll be back.”
The doll, sewn by her mother, was Cordelia’s only friend. Tiptoeing warily to stifle her steps, she crept down the rickety staircase. Her heart sank whenever the dust-caked steps let out a creak.
Up until last year, it had been easy to come down quietly, but she seemed to have grown taller in the meantime. Given that her hem had crept up to leave her ankles bare, the guess was probably right. Eating next to nothing, she certainly wasn’t putting on weight.
Swallowing hard, she made it safely to the ground floor, rolling her eyes about to inspect the silent manor. Morning in the dust-laden old house was still.
Her father had likely stayed out all night at the gambling dens again, her aunt was at her new lover’s house, her cousin Maurice would be drinking and brawling with neighborhood thugs as usual, and his sister Dorea must have shirked the household chores and slipped away to escape their mother.
For Cordelia, this was a relief. Rubbing her growling, hollow belly, she tiptoed into the kitchen to forage for something to eat.
A few years ago, the last servant had fled, and after the old butler who had guarded the estate for generations passed away, the house’s fortunes had dwindled further still. Her father and the rest of the family had systematically squandered the family assets he had fought so desperately to protect, leaving nothing behind.
Though Marguerite was a historic house with centuries of lineage, it was now so utterly ruined that not a single cook, footman, or maid resided here; it was practically a derelict shell.
Even so, luck was on her side today: she found some leftover sausage and dry biscuits her father had abandoned after his drinking. Sniffing them cautiously, she nibbled them down bite by bite, chewing thoroughly like a mouse gnawing on scraps. Fragile like her mother, Cordelia regularly suffered from indigestion if she ate too quickly or too much.
There was no one in this manor who would nurse her or bring her medicine if she fell ill; instead, they would merely click their tongues and complain that cleaning up her corpse would be a chore if she starved to death. Sickness was a luxury she couldn't afford. In her head, Cordelia tallied up the coins she had earned from last week’s embroidery and gathering medicinal herbs. It would be enough to buy a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese.
Her stomach gave an audible rumble at the thought of freshly baked bread. Staring blankly into empty space with a faintly weary gaze, she rubbed her hollow belly, then drew a small, bean-sized pill from the pouch around her neck and swallowed it whole.
The… the medicine is running out too.
The familiar, habitual helplessness and worry weighed heavily on her. Even so, she steeled herself, thinking of the day’s chores like a weed that knew nothing else but to survive even when trampled. Left idle, her mind wandered into painful territory.
Though she was a noble lady in name only, Cordelia enjoyed doing chores. They were productive, earned her bread, and while she was immersed in them, not a single stray thought, gloomy mood, or ounce of loneliness could torment her. What work could be better than that?
Right. I have to do my best today too.
“Hey.”
Having chewed and swallowed the dry biscuit, her slight frame froze just as she was about to bustle about. Reflexively, she clenched her trembling hands and hid them behind her back. She quickly cast her wide eyes downward and kept her mouth clamped shut as a familiar shadow fell across the weathered wooden floorboards. She regretted not going upstairs sooner, but it was already too late.
“I wondered what you were up to, scuttling around like a rat, but look at you, still alive and kicking.”
Her sneering cousin Maurice reeked of alcohol, mingled with the foul stench of stale tobacco. A wave of nausea surged within Cordelia, but she desperately fought back the dry heave.
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t as though the family members, well, abused her. They merely prodded her forehead with a blunt finger, shoved past her shoulders, or handed down “light punishment” whenever she didn’t listen, stopping short of leaving handprints.
Since they never took a horsewhip to her or tossed her out naked into the bitter frost as they constantly threatened, Cordelia told herself that she wasn’t being mistreated.
This is nothing. I have a place to sleep, and sometimes I make my own money. Even if they’re worse than having none at all, I have parents and a fiancé, so I’m better off than the truly pitiful children out there.
She called up the words she had rehearsed thousands of times while trembling in fear, but they did little to lift her spirits.
When a thick finger jabbed hard into her forehead, Cordelia shrank back, bracing herself so she wouldn't be knocked off balance. A kick to the shin would leave a bruise, and that hurt.
“What, can’t even say hello? Think you’re too good to speak to me just because you’re some pathetic excuse for a noble?”
“N-No, not at all.”
She muttered in a small voice. She dared to dart a glance up, but catching sight of his mean, bloodshot eyes, she hastily lowered her head. He was always strangely eager to pick a fight with her, but today his expression looked particularly vicious.