Chapter 3
A month from now, Ariel would hear Blake’s proposal — the very man who had dragged her life into the mud.
Ariel, I will become your patron.
An offer she could not refuse. A trap meticulously designed so she could not help but fall into it.
This time, I will never let things go your way.
Ariel’s eyes glinted coldly.
The moment she woke up, Ariel canceled the reading session and shut herself in her room for days.
Her thoughts revolved around a single thing —
How to take revenge on Blake, the man who had ruined her.
And how to make King Louis, who had treated her like a mere plaything, live in misery worse than death.
Before the memories of her past life could fade, Ariel carefully wrote down in her notebook everything she must not forget — Blake’s schemes, the events they had set in motion, and even the scandals that had caused great uproar.
There was far more to remember than she had expected, so her time in the room grew longer.
“My lady, the master sent this to you. I think it’s the book you’ll be reading at the afternoon session two days from now.”
Milla approached, holding out a book.
As the daughter of a fallen viscount, Ariel no longer had any right to be addressed as “my lady,” but Milla still called her so.
Thanks to the sponsorship of Countess Brontë, she lived with treatment similar to that of an ordinary noblewoman. Ariel was neither a maid nor truly a noble lady — her position was as ambiguous as her very existence.
She had once disliked being called “my lady,” but since returning from death, that had changed.
Just recently, she had told Milla to call her whatever she wished.
And for some reason, that had made Milla beam with joy, which Ariel now recalled with a faint smile.
“The reading session is in two days.”
Countess Brontë was the invisible hand behind the arts and culture of the Kingdom of Sevance. She never appeared at the forefront, yet the cultural scene moved according to her influence.
She mingled with young artists, supporting their living expenses and creative work.
One of her activities was hosting reading sessions at her mansion.
Ariel had participated as a reader there — and many notable events had occurred at those gatherings.
“You don’t really want to go to the reading session, do you? I heard Baron Bake will be there this time.”
Although the reading sessions had noble intentions, they tended to attract eccentric types, which often led to unforeseen trouble.
There were writers with no real skill flaunting themselves, men who shamelessly flirted with Ariel, and at times even physical fights between attendees who wanted to show off.
The book Ariel had been assigned this time was authored by Baron Bake — a man guilty of two of those offenses: arrogance and making unwanted advances toward her.
“I’ll read it later.”
Ariel set the book down carelessly and picked up her pen again. Beneath her list of goals, she added another line.
“I really don’t understand what the master is thinking. How long is she going to keep having you work as a reader?”
Knowing how troublesome the sessions could be for Ariel, Milla grumbled about Countess Brontë. Ariel herself didn’t fully understand the countess’s actions — why she would associate with someone like Baron Bake.
She must have her reasons, Ariel thought.
“It’s just working for my keep.”
Ariel smiled lightly, defending the countess.
“Compared to what she’s done for me, reading a book at a session is nothing. Whether it’s Baron Bake’s writing or a scribble from a beggar on the street, it doesn’t matter. If Countess Brontë hadn’t been there for me, I…”
Her gaze turned distant.
When Ariel was ten years old, her father, a viscount, went to war.
A fragile man, he had tried to desert after witnessing the horrors of the battlefield, and in the attempt, was shot dead by the enemy.
The label “deserter” on her father’s name destroyed what was left of the family’s life. Relatives cut off contact, and the family’s fortune quickly collapsed. Ariel’s mother, unable to withstand the first real storm of her life, hanged herself.
At an age when she should have been cherished, Ariel was cast into the world as the fallen daughter of a disgraced viscount.
She drifted from one orphanage to another. The directors disliked her ambiguous status — neither noble nor commoner.
From the capital to the countryside, from city orphanages to rural ones, she moved around until she met Countess Brontë.
“You have beautiful eyes. Would you be my companion?”
Wearing a deep violet dress that bordered on navy, the countess had extended her hand. Ariel had taken it without hesitation.
From then on, she received much from the Brontë household.
“There’s no way you can hold a conversation with me with such paltry knowledge. Go and study more.”
The countess’s cold words had once wounded her, but Ariel eventually understood that the woman’s generosity went far beyond mere patronage.
Countess Brontë gave her an education usually reserved for men — attaching tutors so Ariel could read and write several languages fluently, teaching her basic swordsmanship, horsemanship, and even how to drink.
When she was young, Ariel had thought bitterly that she would have preferred embroidery to such things, resenting the countess for her lack of warmth.
But later she learned the truth — the deep affection behind those actions, and the vile gossip the countess endured for taking her in.
“She’s basically a madam, isn’t she? Everyone knows all those young artists flock to Brontë’s estate because of that girl Ariel. They just want to get her into bed.”
Many resented a woman wielding such influence in the arts and sought to discredit her. Ariel was an easy target for their malice.
And yet, the countess protected me to the very end — even after I came of age.
In the kingdom, sponsorships usually ended when the beneficiary became an adult.
It wasn’t a law, but it was an unspoken rule: women married, men found work.
But Countess Brontë rejected every marriage proposal that came for Ariel.
As a result, she lived under the countess’s care for nearly a year after coming of age.
“She’s just trying to sell her for a higher price.”
“She probably keeps her around to attract young artists. Plenty of men come just to see that pretty face. Otherwise, why keep her?”
In truth, Ariel had simply not wanted to marry — but the countess was the one slandered for it. She would only scoff and say, “Ignore it,” without explanation.
Back then, Ariel had been deeply hurt, thinking the countess refused proposals not out of respect for her wishes, but for some ulterior motive.
“You’re planning to sell me off, aren’t you? To the highest bidder for a bigger dowry! I don’t need your patronage anymore. I’ll live on my own!”
Remembering it now, Ariel’s cheeks burned hot with shame.
The more she dug through her past, the more guilt piled up.
Could she ever repay it all? At the very least, she must never commit the same sin again.
Deep in thought, Ariel scribbled quickly across the page.
At last, the final page of her notebook was filled.
Her regrets, her reflections, and her deliberations were over. Now, only the work of taking revenge on Blake and Louis remained.
Ariel turned her gaze to the window.
The sun was sinking in the west, dyeing the fields in gold — a color that reminded her of someone. The light seemed to push her forward, and she rose without resistance.
To wash away her sins, there was someone she had to meet today.
The Arte Exhibition Hall, hosting a special showcase, blazed with light late into the night.
In front of it, crowds swarmed.
On this cool autumn evening after a hot summer, commoners gathered in the plaza before the hall, eating street food and chatting cheerfully.
Ariel hid behind one of the building’s columns, waiting for Schumieren to emerge.
“It’s noisy so late at night.”
“My thoughts exactly. People must have it easy these days.”
Nobles who had just left the exhibition frowned at the commoners.
Only nobles and royals who had never lived a commoner’s life could say such a thing.
In truth, life for the common folk was brutally harsh.
Unlike nobles, who were born with servants to work for them, commoners had to toil day and night just to eat, sleep, and bathe.
“I’ll have to suggest to His Majesty that we ban commoners from entering the plaza. This is disgraceful.”
The very thought of depriving the poor of even a small place to rest was enough to make Ariel shudder.
But she could not step forward to rebuke them — for in her past life, she had thought the same way.
“What’s so great about having so many children? Just means more ignorant mouths in the kingdom.”
The insults grew sharper. They even pointed fingers at children splashing in the fountain.
Ariel bit her lip, swallowing the retort she wanted to hurl at the petty nobles.
“Your words are out of line.”
Then, a voice rang out, echoing her very thoughts.
She looked up. From the open doors of the Arte Exhibition Hall spilled a flood of golden light.
Framed by it like a halo, a man stepped toward the cluster of nobles.
