Chapter 33
Fiorentia’s head was still dizzy from Desdemona’s powerful strike.
Lying on the floor, she barely spotted the mask.
There it is.
Bowing her head low, she crawled toward where the mask had fallen. She reached out her hand, missing a few times, but finally touched its edge.
Clenching her teeth, Fiorentia grabbed it quickly. Feeling the solid mask in her hand, she finally exhaled.
She pulled it toward herself.
He didn’t see it, right?
She wanted to check Theodore’s reaction but forced herself to stay composed. She had a reason for hiding her bare face from him.
Fiorentia was just beginning to gain Theodore’s sympathy and open his heart. If he saw her face, identical to Desdemona’s, all her efforts would be wasted.
If I had met Theo first, it might be different… but I met Desdemona first.
The trouble started there. Their resemblance wasn’t just like twins—they looked exactly alike. From Theodore’s point of view, it made sense to think Desdemona had tricked him.
Fiorentia couldn’t prove otherwise.
If that happens, my chance to survive disappears forever.
She gave a bitter smile under the mask. Her fingers trembled slightly from the shock, but she ignored it and put on the mask. Finally, she felt calm.
She moved her hair aside, which had been covering her face like a curtain, and straightened her posture. The slap from Desdemona had stung, but she realized it wasn’t serious.
This is nothing.
She didn’t need to touch or check in a mirror to know there was no deep injury. Fiorentia, the one hit, shrugged it off.
After wearing the mask, she stood as she wanted and glanced at Theodore. Thankfully, she didn’t move as if she was in front of Desdemona.
I behaved rationally. I should praise myself later.
Still, her grip on the chair’s arm was tight, veins standing out on her hand.
Is he… angry?
Why? Earlier, he hadn’t moved when she said she wouldn’t look for him at the Beringham estate. Why now? She couldn’t understand the difference.
Fiorentia gave a quick glance at his hand and subtly shook her head, a signal only Theodore could notice.
That should get the point across.
She composed herself and bowed toward Desdemona.
“Big sister.”
Desdemona froze for a moment, then snapped out of it. Her face flushed, and she screamed like a madwoman.
“Are you crazy?!”
Fiorentia bit her lower lip, thinking: Why is the one who hit me getting all worked up?
Anyone watching might think Fiorentia had slapped Desdemona, given the scene. She swallowed the thought and apologized, flipping the roles.
“You were startled. I’m sorry.”
“Why did you interfere?!”
“I really am sorry.”
She repeated her apology like a parrot. Excuses wouldn’t help. Desdemona, usually straightforward but clever, could easily twist any careless words against her.
“I told you not to get hurt!”
Even as Desdemona shouted, her gaze on Fiorentia was serious and full of worry.
“I’m fine,” Fiorentia said.
“Don’t you know that’s not for you to decide?!”
Desdemona glared sharply, then her voice dropped coldly, as if she hadn’t yelled at all.
“Shall I remind you again?”
“…I’m sorry.”
Fiorentia bowed slightly, asking for understanding, and walked past Desdemona to the dressing table.
“Don’t worry.”
She picked up a small hand mirror, returned to her spot, and whispered:
“…I think I’m okay.”
Theodore had been watching the whole scene from a few steps away, pretending to be a doll.
Are they really close?
No, not really. Desdemona’s behavior was too overbearing. She took pleasure in dominating Fiorentia verbally. Yet in action, she seemed to care for her half-sister more than anything.
Hah… thankfully nothing serious happened. You really…
Seeing the mirror, Desdemona relaxed. Then she suddenly became strict again.
“Here in Marcella, nothing that belongs to me is safe. You should understand what that means by now.”
“…I understand. I’m sorry.”
“If anything happens to what’s mine, just see what I do.”
“I’m sorry, sister.”
Theodore, pretending to be a doll, thought: She’s completely unhinged.
Hitting someone and then obsessing over scratches on the floor or mask—really? Then he noticed something strange.
What’s that?
A faint mark appeared on Desdemona’s left cheek, slightly red compared to the other side.
Theodore had never seen it before and knew it hadn’t been there. Desdemona hadn’t even touched her face. Why did it appear now?
As he pondered, Fiorentia’s gentle voice reached him. He knew it was artificial, yet he couldn’t help pausing. It made his chest tighten.
What is this feeling?
His attention shifted entirely to Fiorentia. Desdemona’s face twisted as she watched. Theodore realized he was powerless to intervene for the first time.
“Sorry, sister.”
Though she had done nothing wrong, Fiorentia apologized again to calm her half-sister. By now, it had become a habit. Even in front of Theodore, she felt neither pride nor grievance.
“You were probably very startled. I should have been more careful, and I’m sorry I wasn’t.”
As Fiorentia bowed, Desdemona’s anger softened. Still, her tone remained sharp, intimidating her half-sister.
“Remember this clearly. Etch it into your mind.”
She poked Fiorentia’s shoulder with her fingers, pronouncing each word as if chewing tough meat:
“Nothing here… belongs… to you.”
