Ilyin felt a seething anger bubbling up within her, one that she had kept buried for over two decades. She longed for that man to disappear from her life, as if he had never existed. The emotions she had to endure to survive in the Arlen mansion were beginning to stir once more.
“I,” she spoke, her lips trembling with emotion. Aden took her hand and held it tightly, as if to lend her strength.
“Yes?” he asked, his voice soft and soothing.
“…I don’t have an ounce of forgiveness in my heart,” Ilyin admitted, her voice choked with emotion. She wished for that man to fall into an abyss, to suffer as she had suffered all those years. But she remained silent, knowing that she had a sweet devil by her side who could grant her even greater wishes.
“I will never let him be happy,” she vowed, her eyes locked on Aden’s.
The devil beside her, who seemed to be able to read her thoughts even when she swallowed her words, smiled softly. “Didn’t I say that Delrose knows how to serve their superiors?” he suggested, his tone teasing.
Aden buried his face in Ilyin’s shoulder, offering her comfort and support. “You can give me any order you want with your gentle touch. I’ll accept it no matter what it is,” he promised.
Ilyin placed her hand on his head, feeling a sense of calm wash over her. “…Then please continue to fulfill the contract as it is,” she requested, her voice steady.
There would be no forgiveness, not now, not ever. Aden responded to Ilyin’s words with a deep kiss.
* * *
Bertha reclined in her armchair, feeling the soft velvet embrace her body like a warm hug. It was the most comfortable she had felt in decades, despite the series of unpleasant days that had preceded it. Ever since her son-in-law had given her an absurd order not to enter his territory, Bertha had been on edge, her mind racing with the memories of estates she had visited in her youth. She had traveled the empire with her daughter, and while it hadn’t always been easy, their ability to predict the future had kept them safe from harm.
Bertha took a sip of her tea, the fragrant aroma soothing her nerves. “Come to think of it,” she mused, “we stopped by a count’s estate. What’s his name, Lo…?” But the name escaped her, and she shook her head, her laughter tinkling like a bell. “As I get older, my memory is not the same as before. But I won’t forget your baby face, so don’t worry.”
She reached out with her wrinkled hands and swept her granddaughter’s cheeks. Ilyin smiled softly, and Bertha made her promise, “Even before I die, I will make sure to call my baby’s name.”
“Grandma!” Ilyin protested, but Bertha chuckled. “Now you look a little better,” she said, sweeping her granddaughter’s eyes. “Why did your worries pile up like this?”
“There’s no such thing,” Ilyin replied with a faint smile. But Bertha shook her head slowly. “No, my baby has a lot of worries about her face. Does the Duke treat you the same way as before?”
If Ilyin said no, Bertha was about to hit the top of the duke’s head with the tip of her cane. But Ilyin waved her hand dismissively, and Bertha relaxed back into her chair, her mind at ease.
“What is it that casts a dark cloud over my baby’s face?” Bertha asked, her voice filled with a mother’s worry. But Ilyin couldn’t help but smile at the term of endearment.
“Actually…there were some things related to the Viscount Arlene,” Ilyin finally admitted, her voice laced with frustration. As she said the name, it felt like a different family, not her own. One where it didn’t matter at all. She wished it would make her feel better.
“That wicked bastard is the one who gave you trouble,” Bertha spat, her hands balling into fists. Ilyin couldn’t help but be moved by the fierce protectiveness in Bertha’s voice.
“Did you know that the Acid Merchant and the Viscount Arlen were making a deal?” Ilyin asked.
“Everyone knows,” Bertha nodded knowingly. She had listened to all the stories of the maids at Del Rose. Besides, her precognitive ability revealed most of the things she was curious about.
“That was not a very good condition for Viscount Arlen,” Ilyin said, slurring her words.
“I guess he didn’t read the contract properly,” Bertha said, a smug smile on her face.
Ilyin finally laughed. “You can see that,” she said, relieved to have someone to commiserate with.
Upon seeing the contract, she immediately noticed a blind spot. Nevertheless, the Viscount had agreed to the terms without objection, whether swayed by the immediate benefit of her presence or simply overlooking the issue altogether. And now, the consequences were evident.
“Did you really send him a letter telling me to do well somehow?” Bertha asked, and Ilyin blinked in response.
Ilyin felt a seething anger bubbling up within her, one that she had kept buried for over two decades. She longed for that man to disappear from her life, as if he had never existed. The emotions she had to endure to survive in the Arlen mansion were beginning to stir once more.
“I,” she spoke, her lips trembling with emotion. Aden took her hand and held it tightly, as if to lend her strength.
“Yes?” he asked, his voice soft and soothing.
“…I don’t have an ounce of forgiveness in my heart,” Ilyin admitted, her voice choked with emotion. She wished for that man to fall into an abyss, to suffer as she had suffered all those years. But she remained silent, knowing that she had a sweet devil by her side who could grant her even greater wishes.
“I will never let him be happy,” she vowed, her eyes locked on Aden’s.
The devil beside her, who seemed to be able to read her thoughts even when she swallowed her words, smiled softly. “Didn’t I say that Delrose knows how to serve their superiors?” he suggested, his tone teasing.
Aden buried his face in Ilyin’s shoulder, offering her comfort and support. “You can give me any order you want with your gentle touch. I’ll accept it no matter what it is,” he promised.
Ilyin placed her hand on his head, feeling a sense of calm wash over her. “…Then please continue to fulfill the contract as it is,” she requested, her voice steady.
There would be no forgiveness, not now, not ever. Aden responded to Ilyin’s words with a deep kiss.
* * *
Bertha reclined in her armchair, feeling the soft velvet embrace her body like a warm hug. It was the most comfortable she had felt in decades, despite the series of unpleasant days that had preceded it. Ever since her son-in-law had given her an absurd order not to enter his territory, Bertha had been on edge, her mind racing with the memories of estates she had visited in her youth. She had traveled the empire with her daughter, and while it hadn’t always been easy, their ability to predict the future had kept them safe from harm.
Bertha took a sip of her tea, the fragrant aroma soothing her nerves. “Come to think of it,” she mused, “we stopped by a count’s estate. What’s his name, Lo…?” But the name escaped her, and she shook her head, her laughter tinkling like a bell. “As I get older, my memory is not the same as before. But I won’t forget your baby face, so don’t worry.”
She reached out with her wrinkled hands and swept her granddaughter’s cheeks. Ilyin smiled softly, and Bertha made her promise, “Even before I die, I will make sure to call my baby’s name.”
“Grandma!” Ilyin protested, but Bertha chuckled. “Now you look a little better,” she said, sweeping her granddaughter’s eyes. “Why did your worries pile up like this?”
“There’s no such thing,” Ilyin replied with a faint smile. But Bertha shook her head slowly. “No, my baby has a lot of worries about her face. Does the Duke treat you the same way as before?”
If Ilyin said no, Bertha was about to hit the top of the duke’s head with the tip of her cane. But Ilyin waved her hand dismissively, and Bertha relaxed back into her chair, her mind at ease.
“What is it that casts a dark cloud over my baby’s face?” Bertha asked, her voice filled with a mother’s worry. But Ilyin couldn’t help but smile at the term of endearment.
“Actually…there were some things related to the Viscount Arlene,” Ilyin finally admitted, her voice laced with frustration. As she said the name, it felt like a different family, not her own. One where it didn’t matter at all. She wished it would make her feel better.
“That wicked bastard is the one who gave you trouble,” Bertha spat, her hands balling into fists. Ilyin couldn’t help but be moved by the fierce protectiveness in Bertha’s voice.
“Did you know that the Acid Merchant and the Viscount Arlen were making a deal?” Ilyin asked.
“Everyone knows,” Bertha nodded knowingly. She had listened to all the stories of the maids at Del Rose. Besides, her precognitive ability revealed most of the things she was curious about.
“That was not a very good condition for Viscount Arlen,” Ilyin said, slurring her words.
“I guess he didn’t read the contract properly,” Bertha said, a smug smile on her face.
Ilyin finally laughed. “You can see that,” she said, relieved to have someone to commiserate with.
Upon seeing the contract, she immediately noticed a blind spot. Nevertheless, the Viscount had agreed to the terms without objection, whether swayed by the immediate benefit of her presence or simply overlooking the issue altogether. And now, the consequences were evident.
“Did you really send him a letter telling me to do well somehow?” Bertha asked, and Ilyin blinked in response.
