Chapter 140

Would I have been able to die quickly too, if whatever was inside had killed Florence instantly?

Laila often thought about that while living with her.

To Laila, the world was mostly dark, damp, and cruel—yet it kept dangling hope like bait, just close enough to torment her. She could do many things, but the simple things she wanted most—family, friends, love—were always out of reach.

And still, every time she tried to give up, the world acted as if she only had to reach out a little further to have them.

If she really were the heroine of a story, then the “Laila Green” in that story would have been someone who never gave up. Not naïve, not ignorant of reality—just someone who kept going anyway.

But Laila hadn’t been that.

The day Alex died, she had decided to die too. She hadn’t had the strength to keep living, to keep trying. If she was going to die, then she would at least take those filthy parents with her. Burn everything, leave nothing behind but ruins.

Who would want to read a story about that kind of protagonist? Especially in a romance.

Romance? For her? She scoffed.

Even if she was that “Laila Green,” she would’ve needed better judgment—choosing Linus had been a fatal mistake, no matter the world. She hated stuffy noble life, and she would never forgive a man who claimed to love her only to chain and control her.

If Linus had ever ignored Hyunji and set his sights on her instead…

“I’d rather die.”

“Romance doesn’t suit you,” Nelson muttered.

Laila shot him a glance. He smirked.
“Want me to say it does suit you, then?”
“Why pick a fight again?”
“Because you wouldn’t even let us talk in front of the lady, said our mouths were too foul—”

Laila scowled.

Nelson and Ted had both been ordered not to speak around Florence. Their words were nothing but curses, and she hadn’t wanted Florence reminded of uglier things.

“Every time you open your mouth it’s filth. What would she learn from that?”
“She’s the same age as you, isn’t she?”
“Two years younger.”
“Close enough. She’s not a kid.”
“All the more reason not to corrupt her.”
“She’s already fighting and hitting people herself!”
“All the more reason to shield her from worse.”

Nelson smirked. “What is she, your daughter? Did you have her at two years old?”

“Want to die?”

“See? There it is again. All I said was nothing!”

He wanted to complain—she’d once said she wanted to die, and now she threatened to kill him just for joking. But he shut up before she really roasted him alive. Ted nodded quietly. He was less talkative, but his swearing was even filthier, so Laila had once sealed his tongue.

Laila snorted. “So what’s got you whining?”

“That girl—don’t glare!—anyway, that lady’s just as crazy as you are—ouch! Stop hitting!”

Laila had slammed her fist onto his head. Then she admitted,
“Yeah. She’s crazy.”
“See? You know it!”
“But she’s beautifully crazy. So watch your mouth.”

Nelson muttered that the two crazies made a good pair. Laila didn’t disagree. After all, he and Ted had risked themselves sneaking around for four years to avoid Florence noticing.

If Florence hadn’t been “crazy,” she never would have come back to find Laila—the one who had scarred her so badly.

Those blue eyes, begging “take my body if I fail”—if that wasn’t madness, then no one in the world was insane.

Even Laila had told her once to value her own life. Compared to Florence, even she seemed sane.

In truth, Laila’s hatred of Hyunji had faded over time. Watching a bug squirm to its own miserable death made it hard to sustain fury.

She had only stayed because she couldn’t leave Florence. At times, she saw Hyunji’s mocking face overlap Florence’s—but eventually, they separated completely. Once like twins, then sisters, and finally, two wholly different people.

And when that separation was complete, Florence’s burn scars and side wound stabbed at Laila’s conscience.

“Even when I apologized, she only smiled and said she was glad. Damn fool… how could she be glad after all that?”

It was frustrating. Without resentment, an apology had no place. But Florence never resented her.

“Couldn’t you just live together again?” Ted finally spoke.

“In Redamas? Now?” Laila snorted.
“Why not?”
“Too many people know my face.”

She was still a wanted criminal. Florence seemed to forget sometimes, but Laila never could.

“Nothing good comes from tying yourself to a fugitive.”
“But the victim forgave you.”
“That doesn’t clear charges. Alex was only a friend—so Florence’s forgiveness doesn’t erase the law. And Alex wasn’t even killed by the Baldwin Marchioness, but by those bastards who attacked that day.”

She would never live openly beside Florence again. At most, she might show up for a wedding or a child’s birth—but otherwise, their paths were separate now.

And maybe that was fine. Florence deserved to live gently, like her name—like a flower.

Thinking of her saying she wouldn’t marry without a proposal made Laila chuckle.

“Right. Don’t give in too easily.”

Enoch Hains, flustered and scowling, never saying the words Florence wanted to hear—while still doing everything for her—was hilarious to watch. He’d live like that forever: disgusted by dirt, yet laying filthy bedrolls for her sake; hating the smell of blood, yet cooking hunted meat for her with spices jangling from his belt.

Florence probably didn’t even realize. Not that Enoch cared.

Once, she’d asked if he felt resentful. Enoch had only said:

“I’m the problem. I can’t leave her alone. She has no complaints—so what’s there to resent?”

He had meant it.

Laila had kept her distance, not wanting to care too much, but that had almost made her laugh. Later, she realized—she agreed.

She too hadn’t been able to leave Florence alone.

Florence was still like a child in her eyes. Barely eighteen before Hyunji stole her body, tortured for months in another world, burned and hollowed for years after…

Marriage was still too soon.

Barely a year had passed since she’d come back.

So Laila, eyes sharp with murderous resolve, headed for the church—already thinking about how best to deal with Enoch Hains.