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~Chapter 2~
“…What do I do?”
Shariette paced in circles around the collapsed man like a bird.
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Just run for it?
“This is my house. Where would I even run?”
Rejected.
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Destroy the evidence and pretend nothing happened?
“As if he’d fall for that.”
Rejected.
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Eliminate the victim and witness?
“And then I’d be the one eliminated!”
Rejected!
Unable to come up with an answer, she squatted down and groaned out the man’s name.
“Noxian Rubellot…”
The heir to the prestigious and powerful Rubellot dukedom.
…If only that were all.
This man was infamous for his ruthless, bloodless cruelty.
So much so that his nicknames—Devil, Villain, Demon—were all some variation of “evil something.”
The real problem was that if this man learned her true identity, he’d take her head off on the spot.
Shasha Argen.
The name she had used for ten years, and the one he knew her by.
The Marquisate of Argen, once blessed by the Life Forest Latium and famed for producing generations of healers,
had been her birthplace.
As an illegitimate child, Shariette had spent unhappy years there… until the family fell to its long-time rival.
That rival was none other than the Rubellot dukedom, lords of Rubenshire, protected by the Red Dragon.
Latium’s Argens and Rubenshire’s Rubellots.
The two houses were bitter, unending enemies, locked in a feud for generations.
They fought so relentlessly—slap for slap, blow for blow—that the king himself had to step in and broker a peace treaty.
But before the ink was even dry, Argen tried to assassinate the young duke of Rubellot… and failed.
The price was terrible.
Noxian Rubellot, sharpening his sword for revenge, wiped out the Argen family to the last rat—
except for the one who escaped.
And the problem is… that one was me.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Shariette had seized the perfect chance to destroy her wretched family.
She smuggled Noxian out from his captivity inside the Argen estate,
and at the same time leaked a mountain of confidential information.
Then, before she could end up like a hunting dog eaten once its job was done, she ran.
“What kind of man comes all the way here just to look for a sleeping potion…!”
“Argh!” Shariette tugged at her hair.
Luckily, it seemed he hadn’t recognized her—but the day he did, she’d be finished.
This man didn’t just dislike the Argens—he despised and hated them to his bones.
He’d even hung the decapitated bodies of the Argen family on the city walls for a month,
letting the birds peck them to pieces.
He had tossed away any concept of respect for the dead.
Noble society’s outrage rained down on him for also ending the bloodline of healers,
but he hadn’t blinked.
Shariette’s personal opinion on that was:
Well… I can’t say it wasn’t deserved.
…Except that she was one of those victims, too.
Three years ago.
Stop fighting so much and at least pretend to get along.
That was the gist of the royal decree handed down to Argen and Rubellot.
To elaborate:
Cooperate for the sake of our prosperous reign. Are you dissatisfied with the state? Want to be a stain on a wise king’s rule?
Thus began the so-called peace agreement.
The clearest sign of reconciliation was, of course, marriage between the two houses.
In the end, they settled for an engagement instead.
Shariette’s half-sister, Blanche Argen, became the biggest winner of this “unity show.”
She had long coveted Noxian Rubellot.
Collecting beautiful things was her hobby.
“Shasha, you’ve been up to useless tricks again?”
In the underground apothecary of Argen Castle—
Thud. Blanche’s high heel pressed into Shariette’s bloodstained head.
“Well, giving affection to garbage is just like a rat.”
Rat insult number 5,381.
Shariette counted the number silently and let her body go slack.
Letting her consciousness float away from her body was easy.
If she wished, she could free herself from all sensation.
When the berit solution boils and turns yellow, add nettle…
To pass the time, she flipped through the mental pages of her recipe book, looking for today’s formula.
Apothecary skills were one of the few useful things she’d inherited from her late mother.
“Stop it. Her head’s the most useful part.”
A new voice entered—Matthias Argen, the family’s legitimate heir and Blanche’s full brother.
His strong hand yanked Shariette’s head back.
“Ghh—! Cough, cough!”
A cold liquid scraped down her throat like it was burning her from the inside.
Ah. She realized she couldn’t make a sound.
Silen poison? She flipped to the right page in her mind.
…Add three drops of diluted Silen poison and it turns yellow-green…
“Shasha, if you ever let anything slip to Noxian, everything will fall apart.”
Blanche, brushing her blood-stained lemon-colored hair back, stroked Shariette’s cheek.
“You’ll recover soon anyway, so drink this every day.”
Her blessed healing ability was another of Shariette’s few assets—and her main use here.
“You’re not doing this just so Noxian won’t find out this family has another daughter, right?”
Matthias asked mockingly.
Blanche’s sharp nails dug into Shariette’s cheek.
Apparently, watching his full sister beat their half-sister amused him.
“…Of course not. Shasha knows her place. Don’t you?”
Blanche’s green eyes gleamed as she whispered to Shariette.
“You’re only alive because of me, you little thief. Remember that.”
End of today’s abuse.
Shariette wasn’t bothered in the least, but she nodded meekly, pretending fear.
A month later, Shariette noticed something had changed in the underground apothecary.
The supplies are gone. These are only supposed to be used in tiny amounts for brainwashing and interrogation…
A bad feeling coiled in her gut.
Then, a cautious knock—and a young maid peeked in.
“L-Lady Shasha… Lady Blanche wants you right away.”
There was a cut across the maid’s cheek, as if from a blade.
Shariette stood and handed her an ointment to prevent infection.
“N-no, you got punished last time you did that.”
[It’s fine.]
Unlike this girl, Shariette could swallow poison or be cut and stabbed and recover quickly.
The maid, recognizing the silent mouth shapes, looked tearful.
Shasha Argen.
The marquis’s illegitimate daughter. The witch’s child. The apothecary in the basement.
She had many names—toy, lab rat, and so on.
But the maid knew the face hidden beneath the bleached mask.
The only person in Argen Castle who saw them as human.
Someone endlessly bailing out life from this swamp of death, yet unable to save herself.
“Please be careful. Just earlier, Lord Matthias—ugh!”
The maid clapped her hands over her mouth.
Following the girl’s gaze, Shariette looked down at her own hand.
Sharp cuts had appeared as if from glass, bleeding freely.
“Those wounds… Lady Blanche again…!”
So she’s been showing off her temper again.
Shariette wiped her hand casually on her robe.
The pampered jewel of the Argen family was fragile despite her bad temper.
So Shariette’s role was to take on Blanche’s wounds and pain, healing in her place.
It was part of her so-called “main use.”
After all, this healing power had originally been meant for Blanche, not her.
She quickly pressed the ointment into the maid’s hands and sent her away.
“Hey! What took you so long?!”
The moment Shariette opened Blanche’s bedroom door on the third floor, a scream-like shout hit her.
“Did you make it properly?! Why hasn’t the brainwashing worked yet?!”
That shouldn’t be possible. Shariette was confident her skill in apothecary work lacked nothing compared to anyone.
When she raised her head, she saw a man sitting at a lavish tea table.
He looked like a living masterpiece—
—if not for the bit gag in his mouth, the hands bound behind his back,
and the expression like he’d just crawled out of hell.
“…!”
Beneath the tousled strands of fine black hair, a pair of shattered ruby eyes glinted.
Eyes that fought to hold onto consciousness locked onto Shariette.
They burned with fury, humiliation, and a vivid intent to kill.
Shiny…
Shariette, caught staring as if hypnotized, quickly turned her gaze away.
