Aurora slowly opened her eyes on the bed.
Her lips were dry, tear stains marked her cheeks, dark circles shadowed her eyes, and the whites were bloodshot. Her exposed neck was covered in red marks from being sucked.
Every part of her body felt as though it had been soaked in acid—aching terribly. Even her throat burned like it was on fire.
She could barely remember what had happened the night before. All she knew was that in the second half of the night, Beatrice had pinned her down, nearly driven mad with desire, relentlessly taking from her again and again. And she… she had simply gone along with it.
Why?
She supposed it was because she’d lost her reason by then… and foolishly believed the nonsense Beatrice had fed her.
Even though she had gotten out of bed, her freedom was still firmly restricted. As long as she moved more than ten meters away from Beatrice, she would be forcefully pulled back.
In other words, she couldn’t do anything.
So she might as well lie back under the covers and try to piece together what happened yesterday.
But her memories remained a chaotic mess. She had forgotten most of what had happened. All she knew was that whenever a golden figure surfaced in her mind, an overwhelming sadness would surge forth, and her tears would fall without warning.
Don’t think about it. Don’t remember it.
It was as if her brain kept repeating that command.
But even so, from the depths of that mental chaos, she managed to grasp one words—Aivira.
And with that, it was like a floodgate in her mind had been thrown open.
The memories came rushing in like a tide.
She remembered the image of Aivira being pierced by a spear.
She remembered her reaching out to her with trembling hands, her hoarse voice crying out for help, eyes full of despair—as if she were clinging to Aurora as her last hope.
But Aurora had been powerless.
The blade of the curse pierced her heart once more, dragging up all the self-doubt and guilt she had buried deep inside. Even her last bit of wishful thinking was hoisted onto the gallows of her conscience.
Aivira had died like that.
She had died because of her.
It was her curse that killed Aivira.
It was her foolish hope—believing the curse wouldn’t strike so quickly—that led her to draw close, to care, to approach her… and ultimately, to destroy her.
“I’m an omen of misfortune. I’m the one who killed her.”
Those two lines echoed like a devil’s whisper, playing over and over in her mind.
‘Why… why did it all turn out like this? Was it because I meddled too much? Was it my so-called kindness that ended up hurting them instead?’
She recalled everything that had happened. If she hadn’t insisted on staying by Lorabelle’s side, maybe Eve and her husband wouldn’t have been killed.
If she hadn’t wanted to care for the young lady a few days longer, maybe she wouldn’t have developed a psychological disorder. If she hadn’t tried to help that green-haired girl, then Beatrice’s legs wouldn’t have been ruined. If she hadn’t tried to help Avila, maybe she wouldn’t have drawn the attention of the cultists.
It was all because of her. Because she wanted to be close to them. Because she wanted to help them. And that desire to help… was precisely what had hurt them. Her kindness was what brought them suffering.
“To cast aside kindness… is the kindest thing I could do for them.”
That kind of thought suddenly appeared in her mind. Like a shadow clinging to her shattered soul, it oozed in with its pitch-black, sticky light, slowly filling the wounds that had split open time and again.
“Abandon… kindness.”
The blankets beside her rustled suddenly. Amid the soft shuffling sounds, a lazy woman’s voice rang out.
“You’re just sitting there zoning out—what are you thinking about?”
“Good morning, Beatrice.”
A bright and energetic greeting made Beatrice, who was still half-asleep in bed, freeze. She rubbed her bleary eyes and looked toward Aurora.
Her smile was so radiant… yet it felt as though it had already been tainted by mud. When a ray of sunlight from the window fell upon her chest, it seemed as though a black light seeped out from deep within her body.
“Aurora…”
“Beatrice…”
Before she could even voice the doubt in her heart, Aurora interrupted her.
That gentle smile still lingered on her face, but the brightness in her once-radiant eyes… had already faded.
“I think… I’ve finally found the best way to atone for my sins.”
She was still smiling, yet it no longer held the charm or warmth it once did.
“To abandon kindness—completely.”
Her smile grew even brighter, but so did the murkiness in her eyes.
*****
The afternoon sun slanted across the courtyard.
With permission, Aurora was allowed a brief moment to tend to the silver bloom flowers in the garden.
When she arrived at the flowerbeds carrying a bucket and trowel, she discovered that the once-pure white blossoms had, at some point, been stained with a withered yellow hue.
She crouched down and, without the slightest hesitation, began pulling out each of the fine blossoms one by one, burying them in the soil.
“Maybe… this way would be better.”
After a long while, her hands were covered in dark, sticky soil. At the site of the silver blooms, only the wilted remnants of the flowers remained, blooming weakly.
“Excuse me, are you a maid of this household?”
A strange male voice suddenly called out from beyond the gate.
Aurora froze, just as she was about to return to the mansion. She turned her head, her black eyes quietly meeting the gaze of the unfamiliar man.
He wore coarse brown clothes, and a small satchel hung from his waist—bulging, as if it held many things.
A pristine white envelope.
“I have a letter here for the mistress of this house. Please take it.”
“A letter?”
Beatrice had always disliked social interactions. So who could possibly be sending her a letter?
After accepting it, Aurora gave the envelope a quick once-over. A familiar scent of perfume lingered on its surface…
Once back inside the mansion, Aurora handed the letter over to her.
“A letter for me?”
“Heh. I never imagined someone would actually send me a letter someday.”
She looked genuinely surprised. After taking the envelope, she tore it open without hesitation.
She pulled out a piece of paper adorned with embossed golden patterns.
As she unfolded it, three bold words were revealed at the top — Invitation Letter.
“A… duke’s family invitation?”
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