Chapter 64
Fortunately, unlike Vigo’s concerns, Kalian had enough sense for that. Instead of taking Angela straight to the Bilton estate, Kalian headed to his own mansion.
However, arriving at the Florence estate didn’t change the reaction. When the maid Jo saw Angela walking into the mansion drenched in Red Wolf blood, she let out a bizarre “Eeeek!” and collapsed.
“Jo! Jo! Oh dear, what’s wrong with her!”
The maid Hilda, who was with her, made a huge fuss and slapped Jo’s cheek.
“Eeeek!”
Then she too spotted Angela and, leaving Jo behind, scooted backward on her bottom.
“G-g-g-ghost…!”
“It’s not.”
The one who stopped Hilda, who was pointing at Angela and about to shout that a ghost had appeared, was the butler Emmett.
Emmett was the only one with a calm expression as he greeted Kalian and Angela. He had already been well informed of the news from Bildium Castle.
There was a time when he wondered if even Kalian might meet his end, but seeing the two of them walk in together, regardless of their appearance, Emmett was simply overjoyed.
It wasn’t for him to question how someone who had died had come back to life. Whether the physicians who had declared Angela dead were all quacks, or whether the gods, moved by Kalian’s devotion, had returned her soul—what did it matter?
As long as his master safely found happiness, that was all that counted.
“Calling a living person a ghost? Jo’s come to as well. Hurry and go prepare the bath.”
At Emmett’s words, Jo, who had been collapsed, and Hilda, who had been pointing her finger, jumped up and scurried off to the bathhouse. They didn’t forget to bow deeply to Angela in apology.
“Our apologies.”
After they noisily disappeared, Emmett also politely apologized to Angela. Angela nodded once, as if to say it was fine. She acknowledged that their reactions were quite normal.
Still, feeling guilty for reacting that way to a living person, Jo and Hilda kept apologizing throughout Angela’s bath.
“We were just so startled. Please forgive us.”
“That’s right. It was because of the blood, not because of you, miss. Don’t misunderstand.”
“How did you end up covered in blood like this? You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”
“If anything hurts, just say so. I’ll raid the entire storeroom for those herbs from last time.”
As if determined not to leave a single drop of the Red Wolf’s blood that had caused the unnecessary misunderstanding, Jo and Hilda took turns scrubbing Angela’s arms and shoulders vigorously.
Angela, hearing their noisy chattering for the first time in a while, couldn’t collect her thoughts and just kept nodding. Then suddenly, Jo and Hilda burst into laughter at the same time.
Wondering what was so funny, Angela looked at them and saw tears welling up in their eyes. Why…? As Angela sat there blankly, unable to grasp the reason for their emotion.
“We’re so glad you’ve come back like this.”
“Everyone was so worried. People were saying His Grace had gone mad.”
“But now that you’ve returned, we can shout to everyone that our lord was right. Ah, of course, we’re just thrilled that you’ve come back healthy, miss.”
“We mean it, miss. It’s such a relief. Thank you for coming back.”
Their words made Angela feel an inexplicable itch somewhere, so she hastily ended the bath, saying that was enough.
Afterward, Angela finished a simple touch-up. When she emerged from the room in her neat attire, Kalian, already prepared to go out, was waiting.
“I told you I’d go alone, but you don’t listen.”
Angela said curtly. Kalian, as if he’d heard it with one ear and let it out the other, extended his arm in a gesture to escort her.
“Kalian.”
Angela called him a bit more sternly. Then Kalian responded in a voice even sterner than hers.
“I have no intention of letting you go anywhere alone, but especially not to the Bilton estate. Let me make it clear: I didn’t want to leave Bildium.”
Knowing the reason for Kalian’s sensitive reaction, Angela had no choice but to place her hand on his arm.
* * *
Despite Angela having dressed neatly for the occasion, when Kalian and Angela arrived at the Bilton estate, the servants erupted into chaos right from the entrance.
Servants fell on their behinds one after another. The maids dropped most of what they were holding.
They had already heard the rumor that Angela might be alive, but they were still shocked. After all, they had all seen the body carried out dead. Some servants had even demanded that Kalian hand over the miss’s body for the funeral—how could they not be stunned?
Seeing color return to her once pallid skin made them wonder if this was a miracle. And why, of all people, had such an incredible miracle happened to Miss Angela…
The servants who thought that far changed their minds again. It must have been a blessing bestowed out of pity for Angela’s past life.
“I’m here to see Father.”
“He’s in the bedroom.”
“The bedroom? Don’t tell me he’s still sleeping?”
“No, no. He said he’s feeling a bit unwell.”
The maid replied to Angela’s words with tense stiffness.
It wasn’t new for the maid to be tense in front of Angela. However, Angela thought the glances sneaking her way felt somehow off. There was a hint of small kindness in them.
Angela mocked herself for having lost her edge after dying and coming back to life, then continued walking.
Angela and Kalian headed straight to Dominic’s bedroom. At this hour, Dominic should have been working in his study or overseeing the knights’ training, so him being unwell was unexpected.
When Angela’s next step faltered slightly, Kalian quickly supported her. It was just a momentary stumble from surprise, but his reaction was excessive.
Still, being reminded that Kalian was by her side gave her strength. Angela began walking straight again to meet Dominic.
“Cough! Cough!”
The claim of being unwell wasn’t a lie; Dominic looked quite exhausted. The coughing sounded deep, as if it had been going on for a while. Angela nearly let her bewildered expression show at Dominic’s inexplicable weakened state.
Not wanting to reveal her bare face, Angela turned her head away from the approaching Dominic, only to absurdly spot a single flower embroidered on the carpet on the floor. She stared at that flower as if her gaze could burn it.
Then Dominic came close to Angela. Kalian stood behind her, but he seemed ready to throw Dominic off immediately if he tried anything foolish. She could sense the subtle shift in his stance.
There was no way Dominic didn’t notice what Angela felt, yet he looked only at Angela as if it didn’t matter.
Since she was deliberately avoiding him, she couldn’t tell what kind of look it was, but it was clear that the man who had told her to drink poison and die wouldn’t be gazing at her kindly.
Angela endured it stubbornly before finally opening her mouth.
“Mother…”
“That damned woman!”
Dominic’s outburst erupted like a blaze just as Angela was about to speak of someone seeming alive. He seized her hand.
“Why…”
But the fire fizzled out as quickly as it had flared. Dominic steadied his ragged breathing. Kalian, who had moved to pull Dominic away, straightened his posture once more.
“That wicked woman…”
Dominic forced the words through breaths still uneven. Angela slowly turned her head toward him.
Dominic was looking at her with an expression she had never seen before.
It was a desperate expression. A yearning expression. And yet, it was utterly desolate. His lips trembled as he forced them open to continue.
“With my own hands… with my own hands… I made my daughter die…”
* * *
Not long ago, Dominic had a terrible dream.
He thought it was a dream. It had to be a dream. Angela, laughing brightly, frolicking through a field, and him watching her with quiet pride—such a scene was unthinkable.
He had never wished for such a moment, so it had to be a dream.
“Father!”
Angela ran toward Dominic, her face glowing with a radiant smile. Her cheeks, plump from the breeze, were flushed with color. She tugged at his arm, excited about some discovery.
“Come here! Quick!”
Dominic let himself be pulled along by her small, delicate hands, as if reluctant. Angela beamed like sunlight, overjoyed that her father was indulging her feeble strength.
“Here, here! Look at this!”
She led him to the edge of a stream. What could be there? Though he dismissed it as a trivial dream, Dominic couldn’t help but look where Angela pointed.
There.
“Gasp!”
Angela lay there, pale as death, trapped in the frozen water.
Startled, Dominic jolted upright. He thought he’d woken up. But when he opened his eyes, he was in pitch-black darkness.
Uncertain what might lurk in the shadows, Dominic stood still, scanning his surroundings.
Even believing it was a dream, he couldn’t take it lightly. Perhaps it was the sharp bite of the wind brushing his cheek that felt too real.
“It’s been a while.”
A familiar voice pierced the darkness. Dominic strained his ears, trying to locate its source in a space where he couldn’t tell north from south.
But there was no need to search. A powerful force gripped his throat, and the owner of the voice revealed herself.
“Hello, my husband.”
Dominic’s eyes widened in shock. Seeing a face he thought he’d never encounter again in his lifetime, the pain of his constricted throat felt like someone else’s.
Grace, that devilish woman.
No, a devil.
As if reading his thoughts, Grace let out a faint chuckle.
“That’s all you have to say about your wife after so long? That’s harsh.”
Dominic grabbed her wrist, trying to free himself from the iron grip around his throat.
Her wrist looked like a brittle twig, yet it wouldn’t budge. Grace watched his struggle with a bright smile.
“Yes, that’s it. Let our skin touch like this.”
She released him only when his eyes were about to roll back. Looking down at Dominic, who had collapsed to the ground, Grace spoke in a kind tone.
“You call me a devil, but you’re the one who killed your own daughter with your own hands, aren’t you?”
Coughing harshly, Dominic glared up at her, his face demanding what nonsense she was spouting. Grace mimed gulping something down.
“Like this, you made her die.”
She was mimicking Angela drinking poison. Dominic retorted fiercely.
“She’s not my daughter. She’s your spawn, your mirror image.”
Grace burst into shrill laughter.
After a fit of cackling, she crouched in front of Dominic, looking at him with pity.
“You didn’t see the note, did you? I left it thinking you’d find it amusing. But then, you never went into my room, so it’s only natural you didn’t find it. Oh, wait—did Angela find it and drink the poison? What a clever girl. Even after you raised her so cruelly, she didn’t want to burden her father with the guilt of killing his own daughter. How did she grow so kind despite it all? Honestly.”
Grace ground her teeth as she finished, her voice thick with loathing for Angela.
Dominic still couldn’t comprehend her words.
His real daughter? Who?
“Angela, who else?”
“Don’t lie!”
Before her words could fully sink in, Dominic shouted. It couldn’t be true. There wasn’t a single part of Angela that resembled him. But Grace—she was her spitting image, down to her cold, cruel nature.
“Believe it or don’t, it’s your choice. But for the sake of my poor daughter who sacrificed her life, do believe it.”
Her words were tender, but her tone dripped with mockery. Dominic shook his head, refusing to accept it.
Then he suddenly remembered a maid who had come to him, claiming Angela was his true daughter. Was that why he was having this wretched dream?
Dominic slapped his own cheek, desperate to wake up. He didn’t want to be swayed by this nonsense. But Grace’s mocking laughter only grew sharper.
“I don’t know why I loved such a foolish man so much. You never loved me back, and I wasted my strength bearing your child.”
Muttering to herself, Grace stroked the cheek Dominic had struck.
“Don’t worry. Your daughter’s alive. A devil’s daughter wouldn’t die so easily. Ask the man who carried off her body.”
