Chapter 69

Once I realized it was Laila who had covered my mouth, I relaxed and leaned into her.
I didn’t doubt her for a second. She didn’t need to try to harm me—she could’ve done it any time.
She clicked her tongue quietly, pulled me close, and hid us in the darkness.
I followed her gaze—and immediately froze.

“Ugh. The dust here is terrible.”

It was my father. He walked in through the front door, took off his hat, and looked around.

I held my breath.
Laila whispered softly:

“As long as you don’t move, he won’t notice us.”

She was right—I’d be in serious danger if not for her.

Why is Father here?

Why today, of all days?
Had he already noticed that Lishi was missing?
Even though she worked mostly with Grace, and they weren’t that close… it was possible.
In Jang Hyunji’s memories, Lishi never even showed up.
At least, she wasn’t around when Jang Hyunji spent time with Father.

“Why did Mother choose such a filthy countryside place?”

His voice rang louder than thunder in the silence.

Father had always cared deeply about cleanliness.
Even when Grandma was alive, he rarely came to Dagrave—said it was too dirty.
He wasn’t there when she passed away. Only I was.

Father—the Marquis of Seymour—was all about tradition and propriety.
His clothes were always perfect: crisp shirt buttoned to the top, fancy cravat, a tailored vest and jacket, polished shoes.
Even his slicked-back hair and glasses showed how strict he was.

He was excellent at judging and evaluating people.
To me, though, he always handed down a failing grade.
Yet outside, people thought of him as a fair and generous man, respectful to subordinates, charitable, and loving to his children.

But oddly, he had a strained relationship with his own mother—my grandmother.

I remembered something from childhood—hiding in a wardrobe while they argued.

“Mother, the one you should love is not that thing. Please stop coddling it.”

“That ‘thing’? She’s my granddaughter. How can you say that?”

“Then what should I call it?”

“She’s your daughter. The daughter your beloved Monica gave you.”

“Exactly. And that thing killed Monica.”

“Killed?!”

“It tore her apart during childbirth. I can’t see it as my child.
Every time that thing looked at me and wanted love, I felt sick.
I hate myself for it… but I can’t help it.
When I look at it, I want to kill it.”

“Calm down.”

“I know. I know what people think.
They think it’s my daughter. So I’ll endure.
But please, Mother—stop loving that and start caring for Grace and Blake.
You’ve ignored them for that thing.”

“They don’t even like me.”

“Because you’re always with it.
Grace especially can’t stand to even hear its name.”

“Then she shouldn’t come around.”

“But she respects you. She has a gift for magic and wants to learn from you.”

“Then teach her yourself.”

“No, I want you to do it.”

“From what I see… Grace is the real monster, not Florence.”

“Mother!”

“You’ll regret leaving that girl unchecked.
She’s cruel, impatient, and loses her temper easily.
Have you seen how she treats the maids?”

“They’re just maids. It’s not a big deal.”

“That’s not what I mean. It’s her nasty personality.
Why are you pretending not to see it?”

“It’s a minor flaw.”

“Ha. I used to cover for my children’s flaws too…
But Grace is manipulative and demanding.”

“She’s smart and adorable and amazing. You just don’t see it.”

“…Then go back. If you’ve said your piece.”

“Mother, Grace and Blake—”

“You’ve always only cared for them.”

“Because Monica gave them to me.”

“She also gave you Florence.”

“…And now you’re pushing that thing on me again.”

“I love you, dear. I just don’t want you to commit a sin.”

“It’s not a sin.”

“If you can’t love Florence, fine.
But I’ll keep doing what I must.
And you’d better do something about Grace.”

“Then take her and teach her yourself.”

“She doesn’t listen to me.”

“She said she respects you.”

“That’s not respect. She just wants something from me.”

“So what? You can give your sweet granddaughter what she wants.”

“You’ll regret it. Grace will make you regret it someday.”

“I’m living for the children Monica left me, Mother.”

“Then you’ll do anything for them, I see.”

It was a powerful, cold, unwavering voice.
My father must’ve been the perfect, ideal parent to Grace and Blake.
It was just me who was the exception.

Strangely, I felt calm.
I wasn’t sad anymore about not being loved.
After shedding the desire to be loved by him, I realized—

He’s just a stranger.

And a stranger’s rejection shouldn’t hurt me.

He’s simply a father madly in love with two of his children.
So much so, he’d do anything for them.

That’s all.

Then, suddenly:

“You’re here, aren’t you, Florence?”

“…”

“Come out. I knew you’d come here—I’ve been waiting.”

His voice was gentle. Too gentle.

“There’s something you must do.
Only you can do it, Florence.”

That voice was sweet like honey.
For the first time in my life, he was calling me by name—and speaking kindly.

I didn’t know why.
What did he want from me?

He pulled a small box from his coat.
Laila whispered:

“That’s a sealed box.”

The heirloom my grandmother left for me—
Father had it all along.

He walked to Grandma’s portrait and set the box underneath it.
Then he raised his hand.
A small spark of fire appeared.

“If you don’t come out… I’ll burn this house down.”