Previously
Cordelia desperately tries to bargain for a one-year postponement of her debt by offering her fine silver hair as interest instead. Amused by her naivety and frantic pleas, Noah bursts out laughing and playfully agrees to accept her terms for the interest while keeping her captive.
Such innate manners might simply be common sense, but from what she had seen of life, common sense was surprisingly difficult to uphold.
She had never received even such trifling considerations from her own father.
Perhaps that was why, even when he poured out brazen, insolent words, she did not feel particularly offended. Maybe it was her dire circumstances, or perhaps a lingering slavish mentality born of an unhappy life. Or it might simply be due to his striking good looks. Had she been a wealthy young lady with no wants, like Shasha Ander, she would have taken offense at that scene, wouldn't she? In truth, that would be the natural reaction. Cordelia was the strange one.
Pride was an utter luxury. Things others took for granted felt too precious and heavy in Cordelia’s life, far beyond anything she dared to hold onto.
Strangely enough, Noah Tudor seemed pleased with a Cordelia devoid of pride. In that case, was it a relief? Cordelia felt reassured.
She had so little time, and she wanted to do her best to live out what remained of it. And she wished to die peacefully. Thinking about it that way, she even began to wonder if meeting a generous creditor like Noah Tudor was a stroke of good fortune. Her life as his collateral was far more comfortable than anything she had braced herself for.
There was no hounding for money, no need to walk on eggshells, and no violence or verbal abuse. The servants treated her with the utmost courtesy, calling her their master’s guest. She was given a clean, soft bed and delicious, high-quality meals, while her bathwater was warm and scented with fragrant oils and flower petals.
Even the indoor slippers were made of soft lambskin, and the nightgown was eastern silk. The wall decorations and bed were adorned with top-grade amber and rosewood, and even small sundries like the ivory comb were breathtakingly lavish. It was a life more luxurious than the days when her maternal grandfather had still been alive. Rumors that the Tudor family’s wealth defied imagination were truly not an exaggeration.
‘Have I ever been treated like this in my entire life?’
Gazing down, she stirred the peanut-topped cream soup with a silver spoon as the thought crossed her mind. Thanks to eating and sleeping well, her health felt light and refreshed, apart from a few drops of a nosebleed two days ago. Frankly, at this point, a mere debtor ought to be profoundly grateful.
Perhaps I'm just shallow. Aside from the minor drawback of not being allowed to leave the grounds, her body felt so comfortable that a smile surfaced naturally. This mansion, one of several villas owned by Noah Tudor, also boasted a magnificent library, allowing her to read her beloved books to her heart’s content.
Looking at an illustration of Hansel and Gretel entering the witch's candy house, Cordelia suddenly wondered if this place might be her own sweet gingerbread cottage. Was he fattening her up just to devour her?
‘Still, what would he even gain from someone like me? I’m utterly useless.’
As Cordelia was lost in deep thought, the maid, Jan, approached with a beam across her owl-like face.
“Would you care for a snack, Miss? Den, the chef, made a delicious custard pudding. It will be simply wonderful with black tea.”
“I’d love that!”
All the food here was immensely delicious. Her small appetite made it almost a pity she couldn't finish it all. Though an odd grace clung to her bearing, Cordelia had never received formal social training; her likes and dislikes showed clearly, and she could never hide her happiness whenever she enjoyed something wonderful.
While that might be considered a flaw in high society, the estate's servants were thoroughly delighted by Cordelia’s honest gratitude and excitement. Rigid nobles rarely showed their joy so openly, making this exotic young lady a guest truly worth serving.
“Miss, aren’t you bored? It must be stifling without anyone to talk to. The master has been away for days now, too.”
Cordelia had not seen Noah Tudor once since their first conversation, wondering just what kept him so terribly busy. Even when he stopped by the villa briefly, he remained shut in his study with his aides before vanishing just as abruptly. Naturally, all Cordelia ever caught from her window were glimpses of Noah Tudor’s secretary briskly coming and going on his master's behalf, or very rarely, his retreating figure mounting a carriage or horse at odd hours of the early morning or late night.
Even this morning, she had watched the carriage carrying Noah Tudor disappear through the vibrant market streets, heading into the heart of the city nestled against the sea.
The port city of Narat at the empire's southern edge was an exotic and splendid place, where glimpses of the ocean flickered between sand-colored buildings like a gentleman accenting a drab suit with a blue silk pocket square.
Though smaller than Drakan, the empire's largest port city, the local citizens' distinctive accents and the vibrant mingling of diverse races from all corners of the world made it feel like an orange melting pot.
Although she had failed to reach her destination of Katysha, Cordelia was so captivated by the sights of an imperial mainland metropolis, seen for the very first time, that she hardly felt the sting of disappointment. There was so much to imagine that her head spun with it.
If there was any lingering regret, it was merely that she could not walk those lively streets herself.
Because Jan, a cheerful local maid, chattily recounted Narat’s amusing tales and fascinating spots in vivid detail, Cordelia’s imagination and longing for this charming city swelled with every passing day.
The city’s renowned brown bread baked from sea-breeze wheat, skewers of fresh seafood, Heyro Beer said to taste of the ocean, the musical instruments played by foreign sailors wrapped in turbans, the Viking festival passed down since before the empire’s founding, and above all, the mermaid statue embodying the city's legend—she longed to see them with her own eyes.
‘Still, that’s out of the question, isn’t it? I’m already being treated far better than I deserve.’
Bound by debt, stepping out on her own was absurd, and that busy man was hardly going to spare his personnel just for her leisurely stroll. Insolent and arrogant though he seemed, he struck her as someone whose every word and action were governed by cold calculation.
‘I must not make a nuisance of myself. No, I must never forget my place just because he treats me well.’
In truth, to someone like Noah Tudor—who ranked among the five wealthiest individuals in the empire on his own merits alone, even without his inheritance from the immensely wealthy House of Tudor—what he had granted her so far was nothing more than a speck of dust. He was merely “storing” his collateral with minimal thought.
‘Does this mean we will never sit down to speak face-to-face again? I thought he would mention the principal, yet there has been complete silence.’
When her thoughts reached this point, Cordelia startled, wondering why she sounded so disappointed. She wasn't disappointed. It was simply that a man who left such a striking impression wasn't easily forgotten. Besides, she was indebted to him.
‘Yes, it’s far better to delay the talk of debt. It’s no loss to me.’
Sitting by the window as the sunset painted the city in crimson hues, Cordelia let out a faint sigh.
Yet that very night, they crossed paths once more quite unexpectedly.
Cordelia, who had fallen into a deep slumber, was jolted awake by a sharp, throbbing pain in her heart. Though it lasted only an instant, the agony was excruciating. It felt as if a shard of glass were lodged inside her chest. She had been fine for a while, yet this lightning strike of pain left her breaking into a cold sweat as she clutched at her chest.
“Ah, it hurts… it hurts….”
Sniffling, she fumbled blindly for the pouch by her pillow and took her medicine. With no time to fetch water, she chewed down the bitter, fishy substance indiscriminately before the pain finally began to subside. Even before she could breathe a sigh of relief, tears spilled over, born of an ache that felt sorrowful, terrifying, and intensely lonely. Having found a bit of comfort, she had apparently forgotten her true state.
Even if she were dying and losing sleep to agonizing pain, no one would worry for her or offer a helping hand.
Perhaps it was for the best, since there would be nothing anyone could do anyway. She never wanted anyone else to experience the helplessness she had felt as a child watching her mother suffer.
Still, she could not help feeling lonely.
Sniffling with a reddened nose, Cordelia rubbed her teary eyes and climbed out of bed. Sleep felt impossible. Or rather, she was terrified that falling asleep like this would mean never waking up again. She did not want to die like that, in complete obscurity. She had always been alone, so why did it weigh so heavily on her tonight?
‘Should I call Jan? No, that would be an imposition. Maybe I could ask for a snack. No, just some warm milk.’
Perhaps because her heart felt so empty, a sudden, insatiable hunger struck her. She felt she had to stuff anything into her mouth before she could return to bed. Stumbling to her feet, Cordelia picked up a lantern and slipped out of the room toward the kitchen.
The mansion was quiet in the dead of night, and despite the warmth of this coastal city, a stray breeze from the night sea sent a chill down her neck. Hugging her shoulders, she started down the stairs, only to freeze at the sight of a light glowing in the drawing room. It was three in the morning, an hour when every servant should have been fast asleep…. Should she go back up?
Just as she hesitated and moved to turn around, a loud crash clattered through the air.