Chapter 9
Fiorentia lifted the hem of her dress slightly and hopped over the dirty puddle to enter. Inside, the torches lit up the space brightly. Near the entrance, a staircase led downward.
“Miss, would you please go down the stairs?”
Fiorentia, who had been staring down at the steps, turned back at the voice behind her.
“Why?”
She asked again, worried the butler might insist on following her.
“Are you planning to come in with me?”
The butler hesitated. Fiorentia’s face was hidden, but he could still sense her annoyance in her tone.
Before he could speak further, she added quickly, “Aren’t you busy? You can go. All I wanted from you was to guide me this far.”
She drew a firm line, showing he had no more duties. Her displeased tone made him pause.
“…Can you manage going down alone?”
She smirked at the ridiculous question.
“Of course. I’m not a child.”
She chuckled softly, finding it more and more absurd as she thought about it.
Still, the butler couldn’t take his hand off the door.
“But…”
Fiorentia was growing annoyed with the stand-off.
“The beast is tied up anyway. What’s the problem?”
She had already made her decision and wasn’t reconsidering. Folding her arms, she showed her determination.
Seeing her stubbornness, the butler reluctantly accepted that he had no choice but to step back.
Even though Fiorentia was the illegitimate child disliked by the family head, she bore the name “Marcella.” Advice he might give could be considered, but reversing her decision was impossible—and forbidden.
The butler knew his position and limits well, which had allowed him to achieve his current rank at a young age. His priority was the head of the family, Desdemona Marcella. Since Fiorentia was acting under Desdemona’s authority, following her orders was proper.
‘And… recently, she seems different somehow,’ he thought.
Even though he didn’t often see Fiorentia, the change was noticeable. She had become indifferent compared to her past self, when she hesitated under Desdemona’s influence. It wasn’t quite confidence, but it made her harder to approach.
Having made up his mind, the butler bowed respectfully toward Fiorentia.
“No, then…”
“Yeah, thank you. You may go.”
Fiorentia, not intending to hear more, lightly waved one hand while keeping her arms crossed. She even gestured arrogantly for him to close the door first.
The butler obeyed. With a thunk, the door shut, and Fiorentia turned to face the stairs again.
Torches lit the walls of the stairwell, but the mask she wore limited her vision, making it darker than usual. She couldn’t remove it, so she grumbled quietly to herself while feeling the damp walls and descending.
The narrow, steep stairs ended quickly. At the bottom, she saw a wide underground prison. Most cells were empty, but at the far end, a guard stood rigidly before one cell.
She recognized him.
He had helped bring Theodore here last night under her orders. Standing like a jailer, he had a baton at his waist and watched the cell.
Fiorentia let out a small laugh. If Theodore wanted, that baton couldn’t stop him. He was a newly appointed knight, but his strength was no novice’s—he could easily match, even overwhelm, seasoned fighters.
‘He was deliberately holding back. Among the Beringham bloodline, he’s a rare genius.’
If he hadn’t been betrayed by someone he trusted, he wouldn’t have been captured so easily.
Fiorentia studied Theodore. He sat with his head down, chained to the wall, movement restricted.
‘If these were ordinary cuffs, he would’ve broken free instantly.’
Unfortunately, the restraints were made by Desdemona, the greatest sorceress of the time, absorbing all of his strength.
Fiorentia frowned behind her mask and approached the cell.
The guard noticed her.
“You’re here, Miss.”
“Anything unusual? Did he cause trouble?”
“No, it’s calm.”
Fiorentia’s lips twitched under her mask. She looked again at Theodore beyond the guard’s shoulder. He seemed fine physically but was sitting completely still, clearly hiding his strength.
‘If Theodore acts like this, it makes it easier for me to deceive Desdemona,’ she thought.
She tilted her head slightly and tapped the mask on her cheek with her fingertip.
“Hmm? Strange. I wonder why.”
Her tone was casual, and the guard didn’t find it odd. Fiorentia changed the subject.
“Have you eaten yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“You shouldn’t skip meals. Go eat. I’ll watch over here.”
The guard refused.
“I’m fine, Miss. I’ll eat at my shift change at midnight.”
“What about the cook? If someone asks why the cook hasn’t eaten yet, how will you answer? Don’t stall—go eat. And bring something for him too.”
“Them too?”
“Of course. You’ll take him to the pen later, right? His wounds haven’t healed yet. If he gets hurt again or malnourished, would the elder like that? Could you handle it?”
The guard imagined Desdemona’s harsh scolding and shivered briefly.
‘Using Desdemona’s authority makes this easy,’ he thought. Fiorentia decided she might occasionally use that influence to make things easier.
She gestured toward the stairs.
“Go now. Don’t be too late.”
“Yes, Miss. Thank you for your consideration.”
“Oh, and give me the key. I need to check his wounds before putting him in the pen.”
“I should help, then?”
“No, he looks unconscious anyway.”
Fiorentia widened her eyes slightly, secretly a little disappointed.
‘If I weren’t wearing this mask… he’d be completely mesmerized by me.’
Her beauty was that striking. She clicked her tongue and held out her hand. The guard handed over the keys.
“I’ll return quickly. Please wait a moment.”
“Okay.”
Fiorentia answered lightly, then watched as the guard hesitated at the stairs before finally going up. Once his footsteps faded, she turned back to the cell.
Theodore, who had seemed unconscious before, now glared sharply at her with bright, piercing eyes.
Fiorentia smirked.
“Waiting for me, were you?”
“…Marcella,” he said in a low, metallic voice that echoed through the underground prison.
