NRAL | Chapter 43

~Chapter 43~ 

Torn to Pieces

“Is makeup really this powerful?”

Nora had often done Eleanor’s makeup herself. She’d always spent a lot of time on it, trying her best, but strangely, the results never looked very good. In fact, it often made Eleanor look older. That’s why Eleanor had always thought makeup just didn’t suit her.

“You’re amazing, Hilda. You’ve made me look like a completely different person.”

“What? Don’t get the wrong idea. It’s not that I’m good—it’s your face that’s amazing! I always think this, but you really judge yourself too harshly.”

“Is that so…”

Unlike the excited Hilda, Eleanor had an unimpressed reaction. While it was a bit surprising to see herself looking so beautiful, the feeling didn’t last long. She’d never cared about fashion before, and even now, she wasn’t interested in all the praise about how beautiful she looked.

She knew she had a decent face. Even if she didn’t have flawless skin, she was still considered pretty. But good looks were more trouble than they were worth. In a poor environment, they made her a target for crime. In a wealthy one, they were just a tool for marriage deals.

“But still, Miss! You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen! You look like an angel straight from heaven! Can’t you hear it? The sound of my heart pounding?”

Well… there was one nice thing. Seeing Hilda react like this.

“Hm. I don’t hear anything.”

“Oh no, you must have bad hearing… They say nuts help prevent hearing loss. I’ll bring you some every day from now on!”

“Pfft! Hahaha… okay, I’ll count on you.”

Eleanor couldn’t help but burst into laughter, and Hilda joined in after pretending to be serious.

But someone was secretly listening to their conversation.

It was Courtney—who had stormed off in anger without saying goodbye and was now upset that Eleanor hadn’t even mentioned her absence.

Courtney was peeking through the crack in the door, trying desperately to get a look at the dress Eleanor was wearing.

But she couldn’t see well from the angle. Just as she was getting frustrated, Eleanor moved, giving her a clear view.

And the moment she saw Eleanor—Courtney froze, like she had seen a ghost.

It wasn’t the delicately braided hair or the sparkling ruby necklace that shocked her.

It was the dazzling white dress.

Courtney stood there, lips trembling, before suddenly jumping up and sprinting down the hallway.

“Young Lady! Lady Nora!”

She ran straight to Nora’s room.

Nora, who was getting a facial treatment before the ball, frowned in annoyance at the loud voice.

“It’s white!”

What kind of nonsense was this?

Still lying on the massage bed with her eyes closed, Nora sighed.

Maybe it was time to teach this rude maid a lesson.

“The dress Miss Ellie is wearing tomorrow! It’s white!”

Thud, thud, thud— The cucumbers on Nora’s face fell to the floor.

A white dress. That was practically the symbol of a debutante.

Traditionally, girls making their debut at balls wore white dresses for their first dance—formally introducing themselves to society. Out of respect, others never wore white to someone else’s debut.

If a noble lady wore even a slightly bright-colored dress to another’s debut, she would often be seen as an enemy for life. Showing up in a white dress on someone else’s special day? That was a direct declaration of war.

And Eleanor, who definitely knew that, had gone behind Nora’s back and custom-ordered a white dress?!

This was clearly a challenge. A petty, arrogant attempt to ruin Nora’s debut.

“That crazy b—!”

Nora shot up from the bed, screaming, furious and sharp with rage, more so than usual due to how close the ball was.

She started shouting vulgar insults that didn’t suit the noble family of Duke Astria—but Natalie and Courtney didn’t even flinch. They were used to it by now, having spent so much time close to Nora.

“This might actually be an opportunity, Miss.”

When Nora had calmed down a bit, Courtney carefully spoke up. Natalie tried to stop her with a glance, but it was too late.

“If Miss Ellie shows up in a white dress, all the nobles will criticize her. They’ll say she’s jealous of the real lady and trying to copy you. And then, you’ll be seen as the gracious and rightful lady who forgives the fake’s misbehavior.”

“You think I didn’t already consider that? Do you take me for an idiot?”

Instead of praise, Courtney got snapped at with cold, biting words.

Natalie sighed silently. Why did she butt in like that?

“A kind and noble lady, huh? Sure, people might say that. But is that all they’ll say? Two Ladies, Astria, both wearing white. It’s the perfect setup for comparison! Who’s skinnier, who’s fatter, whose lashes are longer, whose chest is bigger, whose legs are prettier! From head to toe, they’ll pick us apart just to compare us! And I’m supposed to put up with that, just to be called gracious? Me? The future Empress of Juvenile?”

“I-I didn’t mean it like that, I was just trying to offer a thought…”

“There’s no such thing as just a thought, Courtney. Don’t say anything in front of me unless you’re ready for the consequences. What if I decide to just kill you?”

“I—I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!”

Courtney dropped to her knees, trembling. Nora slowly pressed her elegant shoe down on Courtney’s shoulder.

Her back bent. Her forehead touched the floor. Even though it hurt, Courtney clenched her teeth and held back a cry. She knew if she made a sound, Nora would only get angrier. So she just kept apologizing.

Her instinct was right. Nora snorted, then finally lifted her foot. Seeing Courtney’s face pressed to the ground and begging for forgiveness helped ease her rage… just a little. Besides, she still had plans for her.

“Courtney, take this.”

Thump. Something long hit Courtney’s head and fell to the floor. Her scalp throbbed, but she stayed still.

When she finally dared to lift her head, she saw what had hit her.

Courtney’s black eyes widened.

“You said you’d do anything, didn’t you?”

It was a dagger. Small enough to hide in a maid’s uniform pocket.

“Well then. Let’s start with that.”

Nora watched, pleased, as the maid’s hands trembled—like she’d been handed a cup of deadly poison.

***

The much-anticipated debutante ball day had arrived.

Eleanor woke up early in the morning and began her final preparations for the ball. She kept going in and out of the Violet Hall, checking the details, meeting with house managers and the head maid, and ensuring everything was in place. Before she knew it, time had passed quickly.

Due to her busy schedule, she didn’t have time to eat, but thanks to Hilda, who kept following her and feeding her snacks, she was able to avoid going hungry.

“Miss, did you not sleep well last night? You look especially tired today,” Hilda asked with concern. Although no one else noticed, Hilda could tell immediately. Eleanor’s eyelids kept drooping, her expression was a little stiff, and she was breathing deeper than usual. These were subtle signs that even Eleanor herself didn’t realize.

“Yeah, I woke up early from a bad dream,” Eleanor admitted.

“Then you should go back to your room and rest. You’ve done enough, and it’s time for you to start getting ready,” Hilda said, shooting a sharp glance at Natalie, who was standing nearby.

It was clear why Natalie had been guarding Violet Hall since early morning. She was there to keep an eye on Eleanor, in case she did something unexpected before the ball. It annoyed Hilda to no end that while Eleanor was busy, Nora was getting pampered with massages and barely came out.

“Alright, let’s go back then.”

Eleanor let out a tired sigh and left Violet Hall.

She was someone who usually woke up early, but today she had barely slept at all, having dreamt of something from the past.

The person who appeared in her dream was someone she missed dearly.

In the rundown, filthy orphanage, there was a bright, golden-haired boy, whose voice was as kind as ever. It was Luke.

“Forgive those who have wronged you. Only then will you find happiness,” Luke said as he gently stroked Eleanor’s hair, treating her as if she were something precious.

Eleanor realized it was all just a dream as she buried her face in his warm embrace. It was a fragment of a memory.

She remembered a day when, as a child, she had beaten up a boy who stole her potatoes. Luke had scolded her gently and said the same words. Even if it wasn’t that specific memory, she couldn’t deny it. Luke’s presence in her dream proved it wasn’t real.

‘Luke had already died long ago.’

As she lay in his warm embrace, Eleanor knew it was just a memory, but she still let herself enjoy the comfort. She had always heard that the weak should be treated kindly and the wicked should be forgiven. When Luke held her as a child, he would always say such things, and Eleanor remembered them fondly.

It was still dark in her room. Looking out the window, the sky was still dark, as if the sun hadn’t risen yet.

She felt a sweatiness on her back. Unable to fall back asleep, she got up and went out onto the balcony.

The cool early morning breeze brushed against her sweaty skin, and as she stood there under the dim moonlight, a voice she had long forgotten suddenly came to her mind.

“When we arrived, he was already dead from illness. His last words were to tell you he was sorry,” a knight from Astria had told Eleanor one winter day when she was thirteen. The news of Luke’s death was delivered in a flat, emotionless tone, as if it were the death of a stray dog.

Eleanor hadn’t been given the time to mourn Luke’s death. She was too busy, needing to learn a new language or review another document, to properly grieve. Only after she came of age did she have the luxury of investigating his death. But by then, too much time had passed, and all she learned was that he had died.

‘Why did you come to me in my dream today of all days, Luke?’

Eleanor, returning to her room with Hilda, couldn’t help but wonder why he had appeared in her dream now, so long after his death.

‘Were you trying to warn me? Tell me that I should forgive, that I can find happiness through forgiveness?’

Luke would have said that. Even when thugs had stolen the little food they had, he had always told her to forgive.

‘But Luke, unlike you, I’m beyond hope. I can’t forgive. I want to hurt those who hurt me—no, I want to hurt them even more. Only then do I feel like maybe, just maybe, I can experience happiness one day.’

Without realizing it, Eleanor reached into her pocket, where she had once kept a small, worn statue. Though it was no longer there, she absentmindedly felt the empty air, as though searching for it, and silently offered her final prayer.

“I’m sorry, Luke.”

The well-oiled door in front of her opened softly.

At the same time, the fluttering white fabric in the wind caught her eye.

‘It’s already too late to turn back.’

Seeing the torn white dress, Eleanor clenched her fist tightly.