chapter 03
“I-I! You’re c-crazy!”
The count shouted in shock at Ariadne’s unexpected action.
She held her hand over her sister’s cheek, smiling faintly at the frozen expression on her face. Ariadne felt completely relieved. She should have done this a long time ago.
“Does it hurt? But really, what kind of saint loses her healing power?”
She shook her hands clean and continued with a lively tone.
“A sister who climbs onto her elder sister needs a proper scolding. Isn’t that right?”
The cold, tense atmosphere instantly dominated the room. No one had expected Ariadne to act like this.
It made sense—she had always been the obedient daughter, never once rebellious.
She was exemplary in everything, the model daughter of a noble family, praised in high society as a perfect bride, cultured and refined. She carried out all duties and responsibilities flawlessly, serving as an example for others. Yet all her accomplishments meant nothing before Saint Ashley.
The reason was simple: Ashley’s influence as the saint far surpassed Ariadne’s. No matter how wise or virtuous Ariadne had been, opposing the saint meant she was simply the villain.
Since everyone saw her this way, she decided there was no need to keep up the appearance of a good daughter.
Ariadne’s strong reaction clearly startled everyone. It was deeply ironic. They had imposed the mask of the villain on her, and now, as if recalling her former demeanor, she revealed a different side.
“…….”
Ariadne withdrew her hand without changing her expression, as if nothing had happened.
She had never once gone against her father’s words before. So one might think someone would be curious why she was acting this way.
Unfortunately, no one cared about her reasoning. All they focused on was condemning her actions.
“You’ve really lost your mind! How dare you hit someone!”
The count approached with an angry stride. As if to retaliate for Ariadne’s behavior, he struck her cheek.
A sharp, tearing sound rang out as Ariadne’s head snapped to the side. Yet the count, unsatisfied, raised his hand again.
“How dare you strike the saint! Huh?”
But Ariadne could not remain passive.
Just as he was about to strike her again,
“Ugh……”
“……!”
His hand froze midair, restrained by something.
Everyone watching gasped, covering their mouths in shock.
“W-what is this!”
Ariadne held onto the count’s wrist. One side of her face was reddened, streaked with blood, and her eyes, rimmed with tears, glared at him.
Her hand, gripping the one that had tried to hit her, was pale as if no blood ran through it.
“Father… what are you doing?”
Ariadne demanded, her tone sharp. The servants watching held their breath, swallowing hard.
Yet the most shocked of all was Ashley, who had just been slapped by Ariadne.
“E…Elder sister… h-how could you… to me…?”
Ashley, stunned, could not even speak, tears streaming silently.
Ariadne had no time to worry about her. Scolding Ashley had made her feel surprisingly satisfied. Still, there was a lingering sense of frustration. Perhaps it was the hostile eyes of everyone in the room.
“Let go of me.”
The count barked in warning, but Ariadne only laughed lightly in response.
“Only if you promise never to hit me again.”
“What? How can you act so disrespectfully in front of everyone!”
“And what about you, hitting me in front of everyone? Is that because you learned it so well?”
“What? What did you say!”
The count’s face froze in disbelief.
“You… you even struck the saint!”
“I learned that from you, Father,” Ariadne said boldly. The count’s grip on his hand slackened in utter disbelief.
Deciding he could not continue, he stepped back, and Ariadne finally released her hold.
The onlookers seemed to exhale in relief.
Ian, who had been watching the standoff, stepped forward cautiously.
“Calm down, Ari. You too, stop this. What are you doing? Acting like a savage.”
“Shut up.”
Ariadne snapped back fiercely. Even Ian, whom she had trusted, seemed to have sided with Ashley, despite knowing the request from that day. Growing up together, her fiancé had chosen the saint over her.
The emotions she had carried before being dragged here were unpleasant, but now seeing Ian scold her again left her utterly disillusioned.
“What? What are you saying? Everyone is listening.”
Ian approached her awkwardly.
“You brought it on yourself. I told you to be quiet.”
Ariadne glared at him, backing away as if he were a pest. Ian’s expression showed increasing embarrassment.
“Ari… why are you like this?”
When he tried to place his hand on her shoulder to soothe her,
“Don’t touch me.”
Ariadne slapped his hand away with a sharp “clack.” The onlookers murmured in surprise. This was not the Ariadne who would obey Ian’s every word.
“Enough. She doesn’t understand reason,” the count said, cutting off Ian’s attempt to ease the tension.
“From now on, lock Ariadne in her room and give her only food. Do not let her out.”
He waved his hand decisively.
“And tell the palace that the saint is unwell and will be late.”
With that, Ariadne left Ashley’s room immediately. She had done enough.
She steadied her trembling legs as she exited. Acting decisively from the start was necessary; it was not easy to behave like this. Anyone who had seen her earlier would no longer treat her as before.
She sighed and returned to her room. Upon her arrival, the count stationed guards outside to ensure she could not leave.
Florin was also barred from entering, and only one servant approved by the count could bring her meals three times a day.
Ariadne had no intention of starving herself.
She wanted to eat defiantly, to show she would not be humiliated.
But when the servant brought the meager meal, Ariadne was left speechless.
“Miss… dinner is ready.”
She had just risen, clutching her sore cheek.
“What is this?”
“Pardon?”
Seeing the meager food before her, she asked, and the servant hesitated.
“You mean, this is my dinner?”
A shriveled loaf of bread, what looked like leftover soup, a vegetable salad with no fruit, and meat clinging slightly to a bone.
The servant slowly nodded at her question.
“A… yes…”
Though the servant appeared flustered, Ariadne immediately recognized her. She was “Marie,” who attended to Ashley. The girl’s clingy devotion to Ashley had made a strong impression before. Ariadne realized instantly that Marie had audaciously touched her meal.
Normally, Florin would check her meals, so it could never have been this meager. Florin would not shirk responsibility, and the count would not concern himself with such trivialities.
‘She probably thinks she’s doing this for the saint.’
Given how the servants treated Ashley like a saint, this made sense. Anyone could see the different attitudes toward Ariadne and Ashley. And after yesterday’s commotion, some resentment toward Ariadne was inevitable.
Saints are saints, after all—like heroes who saved the nation. Servants took pride in serving her family. Such behavior was hardly surprising.
But Ariadne was clearly their superior.
She crossed her arms, frowning, and looked up at Marie, who seemed slightly embarrassed.
“So, you’re Marie?”
Marie froze in shock, realizing that Ariadne knew her name.
“Y-Yes….”
Ariadne smiled faintly. People still assumed she was the obedient Ariadne who would never question them. Their overreach in claiming to serve the saint had gone too far.
‘Then I’ll show them what a real villain is. They’ll never pull this nonsense again.’
With a dramatic gesture, Ariadne overturned the plate of food under the table. Marie screamed in alarm.
“Miss! Ah!”
