CHAPTER 4
Just moments ago, we had been talking normally—so when I suddenly flew into a tantrum, he looked startled.
Feeling awkward, I cleared my throat.
“Ahem, ahem. Understand—I had my reasons.”
Using a courteous tone, I explained, and Eiden smirked as if I’d completely lost it. He then bit his lip.
“…Don’t ever touch my body again.”
His eyes, shining like a cat’s, glared at me.
“Huh?”
I raised an eyebrow sharply.
“A doll talking back like that to its Master? How presumptuous.”
“Don’t touch me if I say don’t!”
He snapped fiercely and stepped back.
…Did he hate it that much?
Annoyed by his exaggerated reaction, I folded my arms.
“I didn’t want to touch you, okay?”
Eiden glared at me coldly.
But since he’s smaller than me, he just looked like a slightly irate stray cat.
I scoffed.
“Okay, listen up.”
Once I confirmed that the door was locked, I stared him down.
“Until I find a way to get you out of here, you must never leave this room.”
“What?”
“If my brothers see you, it’ll cause trouble—”
Bang!
At that moment, the door flew open.
“Miss Lillian. Quite the racket today as well.”
Stepping in was the head maid, Olga.
With her olive hair pinned perfectly and her sharp eyes behind silver-rimmed glasses, she looked down at me with a mocking expression.
“What’s this, miss?” she asked, glancing at Eiden.
Her thin lips curled.
“A fitting situation for the daughter of a criminal. Already bringing a man into your room?”
My fists clenched.
“He’s a childhood friend Father gifted me.”
“Friend? You know how to make friends?”
Olga laughed.
“You couldn’t even trouble your only sister… must be why you ‘got your friend as a present.’ True to the solitary daughter of a criminal.”
“Criminal daughter” was a reference to my mother. The reason Olga could insult my mother was simple: Mom had had a mental breakdown, killed several maids, and then committed suicide.
Those maids had been palace attendants brought by her, but after being betrayed, they—especially Olga—began to hate me.
Under the guise of “discipline,” they tormented me endlessly. I endured it all for a simple reason:
“Remember, Lillian: You must trust no one in this house—your siblings, your father, no one.”
“No one except your mother and those maids cares about you. Eloise isn’t genuine either.”
“They ignore your sick sister at court and your cold father. They don’t care.”
Every night, Mom whispered those words to me. And each moment I felt hurt by their neglect, I recalled her voice. After she died, I clung to that memory.
The maids, masked as caretakers, began tormenting me brutally.
“You ate like a pig again. You need punishment.”
“Of course she did. Sons of criminals only get cleaned up by servants.”
Once I relied completely on them, they started abusing me. But I didn’t fight back—I believed they were doing it for my own good.
…Fury burned within me.
I stared Olga down.
“Huh. What’s with that look? I heard today you indulged your vulgar hobby again?”
“Vulgar hobby.” The maids mocked my mechanical research—machines were for commoners who couldn’t use magic.
A bad feeling nagged me. I turned to my desk.
It’s empty!
Before, it was cluttered with mechanical parts—but it was now spotless. I turned back to Olga, shouting:
“I told you not to touch my desk!”
“It was full of your unsightly junk. I cleaned as we were expected to.”
Before I could protest, I hastily searched beside the desk. All the parts were intact… except for one crucial piece.
Thankfully, there was a dustpan nearby. I grabbed from within it the machine I recognized and held it protectively.
“Rossie!”
In the pan lay my mechanical bird doll—unfinished, its metal frame and eyeballs exposed and grotesque. But to me, it was like my child.
Every day, I worked on Rossie with love—tearing it apart, repairing it, upgrading it. I planned to finish wiring and power it so it could fly free, becoming my eyes and ears above the clouds.
Seeing it covered in dust, I grew so angry my voice shook.
“I told you not to touch Rossie!”
Olga stepped closer mockingly.
“Raising your voice over such coarse toys—seems like you need more discipline.”
Holding a metal ruler and smirking, she looked like a demon.
How could I have once thought she cared about me?
Maybe she was the one who would stand in for Mom.
She stepped forward again.
“Now, must begin discipline session. Kneel.”
“No.”
Olga froze.
With an incredulous look, she stared at me.
“…What did you just say?”
“I said no.”
I met her gaze calmly.
“Why should I kneel? You’re the maid—and I’m a duchess.”
Although my reputation was tarnished, I was still a noble daughter. The only reason those maids dared to abuse me was because I allowed them.
If I admitted they were simply abusing me—not disciplining—I would admit that no one cared about me, I was utterly alone. But with the memories of who I truly am, I no longer believed that.
“Then kneel. Olga.”
I stared her down and said:
“You touched something precious to me. Kneel and atone.”
“—Ha!”
For a moment, Olga seemed stunned—but then she sneered.
“Miss, have you gone mad?”
Her imposing figure loomed over me, unsettling me instinctively.
Stay strong. I’ve endured twelve years—this is enough.
Pinching myself, I braced my will.
“This room stays locked. If you cross that line again, I’ll tell Father everything.”
“….”
She paused—then burst into mocking laughter.
“You’ll tell Father? Hahaha! He’ll care so much for your words—one who can’t even wield a proper sword despite Sergeev blood!”
“How can you be so sure?”
True, I’d never dared to tell him anything before.
He had never paid me any attention. Or so I believed.
I pointed calmly to where Eiden crouched in the shadows—quiet as a wild creature.
“Olga, see that? That’s the friend Father gave me.”
“…That filthy thing? Why should I care?”
“He may be shabby, but look how beautiful he is.”
Grabbing Eiden’s arm, I said:
“Have you ever seen anything so pretty?”
Eiden stared at me like I was insane.
I ignored him and raised my chin at Olga.
“Beauty’s rare. Father brought something that pretty for me from the expedition.”
I let out a small laugh, lifting one corner of my mouth.
“Think Father doesn’t care about me?”
Olga looked at Eiden closely—his molten-gold eyes, his doll-like features.
Even disheveled, the male lead’s beauty shone.
Olga’s expression softened… just a bit.
