Between Death and Poverty (1)
Amid the screams of the crowd, Kyla froze, her body trembling as if rooted to the spot. She wanted to scream, to open her mouth, but even that was impossible. The sounds of the world faded, and for a moment, everything seemed suspended in time. In that frozen instant, a memory flashed through Kyla’s mind—the day of her mother’s funeral. Her lips, blackened as if burned; her eyelids tightly shut. The young girl she had been, unable to speak a single word. Her father’s face, pressed against a handkerchief, felt far colder than it did at this very moment.
“W-what—!”
At that instant, Grand Duke Theodor jerked the reins violently, bringing his horse to a sudden stop. The enormous beast slammed a front hoof to the ground beside her. Kyla drew a shaky breath just in time. Had that hoof landed just a fraction closer, she would have been sprawled, bloodied and lifeless, on the cold earth. The terror of death seeped into every nerve, leaving her hands and feet numb.
“What is this?”
But the Duke’s voice was cold, indifferent. There was no trace of concern, no flicker of emotion. His detached tone made Kyla shrink further into herself. The stares of the surrounding crowd felt sharp and accusatory, while her dizzy mind slowly began to return to reality.
Then, out of nowhere, Joanna appeared, rushing to Kyla’s side, her hand brushing over the girl’s hair. The gesture was anything but tender.
“Oh, Your Grace! I beg your pardon. I am Baroness Grenville, and my daughter… she was pushed by the crowd—blocking the procession. I am truly sorry.”
A lie. Joanna’s face betrayed not an ounce of guilt as she spoke to Grand Duke Theodor. Acting the part of the devoted mother, she lifted Kyla to her feet and brushed off her dress. She wrapped her arm around Kyla’s shoulders and spoke, feigning concern:
“Kyla, are you alright? Thanks to His Grace, you’re safe. Go on, thank him properly.”
But Kyla’s heart was a tangle of fear and confusion.
He really tried to kill me… he didn’t care if I died…
A shiver ran through her entire body, leaving her trembling even in the heat.
“Lift your head and bow, girl.”
Joanna prodded her side with a subtle jab. Kyla’s shaking hands clutched the hem of her dress as she slowly raised her head. Through the strands of disheveled hair, she caught sight of Theodor—his black hair whipping in the wind, his ruby eyes glinting like cruel gems, his expression utterly devoid of warmth. When their eyes met, Kyla almost imagined the scent of blood emanating from him. Summoning what little courage she had, she stammered out:
“I-I… I’m sorry, I…”
“You nearly died, young lady. Be more careful.”
Theodor’s voice remained icy. At that moment, the corners of Joanna’s mouth twitched downward. The final move she had been patiently saving for years—her last desperate gamble—had been torn away before her eyes. She had spent years trying to secure a marriage to support the Grenville family, but the debts were too great, and all doors had been closed. Standing before Grand Duke Theodor was her final chance. This plan was, quite literally, a last-ditch gamble using Kyla’s life as the stake.
“Let’s go, my dear. My apologies, Your Grace.”
Bowing her head, Joanna led Kyla through the crowd toward the carriage. The onlookers’ eyes flickered with concern for Kyla, but quickly returned to Theodor. Once inside the carriage, Baron Grenville, who had been waiting eagerly, spoke with excitement, a smile brimming with anticipation.
“Well? Will she agree?”
Hearing those words, Kyla realized even her own father had abandoned her. Her father had been complicit in this insane scheme. Life drained from her gaze, and her heart froze.
“Ugh! We’re finished! That man… he never cared! Is it true what they say—that he’s only interested in men?”
“What? Then we can’t have our treat?”
In the middle of it all, Neville whined like a spoiled child.
“Neville, my dear, don’t worry. Mother is here.”
Joanna’s hand ruffled his hair, a fleeting show of affection before her eyes hardened again.
“Wherever we sell her, that’s fine. The money might be less than planned, but we’ll get the most we can. Better than if she had been… ugh.”
Cradling Neville, Joanna spoke coldly as if it were nothing. Baron Grenville, showing no trace of fatherly affection, ordered the carriage to depart.
How did it come to this…
Kyla struggled to calm her trembling body amidst the cruelty of her family. She bit her lip so hard a drop of blood appeared. Without doing so, she felt she would break down and cry right there.
“Hmph… even mistresses fetch a price these days… the taverns are alright, or perhaps a southern duke is looking for someone.”
“The duke is too far. It’s better to handle this in Teoran city. If we send her far, she might escape, and we won’t find her.”
Joanna already imagined the price tags in her head. Even as her words treated Kyla like an object, the girl could say nothing. She was confused, unsure whether to be grateful for her survival or mournful for what she had endured.
A short while later, the carriage arrived at the Grenville estate. Stepping down, Kyla quietly looked up at the sky. The red sunset trembled uneasily before her eyes.
Mother… what should I do…?
The sky offered no answer, only careless beauty. But Kyla knew—this house was no place where endurance would lead to safety. If she didn’t escape, nothing but further misery awaited her. She made her decision. Tonight, she would leave this place. Concealing her trembling hands beneath her dress, she vowed silently. Her gaze was no longer that of a fragile girl who had merely survived—it was the determination of someone resolved to change her own fate.
Yes. Tonight, I leave this house.
