Chapter – 01
1. Nadia Ingram
Nadia Ingram was a child of rare emotional expression. She never threw tantrums, she didn’t cry, and she seldom laughed out loud.
Watching her, everyone praised her, saying she was mature and dignified beyond her years—the very picture of a young lady of the House of Ingram. However, that reputation differed slightly from the truth. She wasn’t naturally dignified; she simply thought that behaving that way was the only way to be loved.
If she wasn’t a nuisance, if she didn’t cry, if she acted with grace—she suppressed the urge to run around wildly, to play pranks, and to cling to her parents’ sleeves begging for affection. But the result of her patience was different from her expectations.
By the time Nadia realized her family members were the type of people who wouldn’t change no matter what she did, everyone around her already perceived her as a mature and elegant child.
Nadia couldn’t change her attitude now. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that all those behaviors had been a desperate struggle for affection. In the end, it was because of her pride.
The Ducal House of Ingram boasted wealth and power second to none in the Empire, but that didn’t necessarily translate to family harmony. The Duke and Duchess were a perfect “show window” couple, much like most aristocrats of this era. Their marriage was a political union—nothing more, nothing less.
The couple considered their duties fulfilled by having a perfect boy as a successor and a beautiful girl fit for the marriage market, and then they spent their time wandering outside the home.
For Nadia, the product of a loveless marriage, receiving parental love was a distant dream. It was around the age of ten when she learned that both of them kept several lovers and that their frequent nights away were because of them.
If only she had a good relationship with her sibling, it might have been some comfort. But her brother, Nigel, had no interest in a sister ten years younger than him.
He faithfully attended successor lessons and handled business, but spent his remaining time seeking out every party imaginable. He was busy seducing women using his handsome face and his status as the future Duke of Ingram. Even seeing her son like this, the Duchess didn’t care, as long as he didn’t father any illegitimate children.
Nadia, too, wanted nothing to do with her brother, who often came home soaked in the scent of various perfumes and cosmetics, reeking of alcohol. Even to the eyes of a twelve-year-old Nadia, the lipstick stains smeared on his mouth looked pathetic.
She thought all aristocrats lived that way. She believed everyone grew up as dry, lonely adults within the fence of a family that held not a shred of affection for them, living the same lives and forming the same kinds of households.
It was on the day Nadia attended a party for the first time that she began to think otherwise.
It was the eighth birthday party of the daughter of Count Marten, a family that was quite close to the House of Ingram. As usual, such parties held their own political significance. The adults mingled among themselves, flaunting friendships and looking to build new bridges, while the children forged future connections.
Sitting on the edge of a fountain, killing time by dipping her fingertips into the shimmering surface of the water, Nadia caught sight of a scene that shocked her. Count Marten, who wore a stylish mustache, suddenly picked up his eight-year-old daughter and held her in his arms.
The look in the eyes of the Count and Countess as they watched their daughter—who hugged their necks with a face devoid of even a hint of a shadow—felt as if they were beholding the most precious thing in the world. Nadia wanted to approach them and ask them to look at her like that, too.
Nadia hesitantly stepped toward the Countess.
“My little angel, shall we open the presents with Mommy?”
It was a title so sweet it made Nadia’s cheeks flush, even though it wasn’t directed at her. If the Countess were her mother, she felt she could be called an angel too. Nadia intended to ask her if she could call her “Mother.”
Just as Nadia’s small hand reached out with all her might to grab the Countess’s hand, it was snatched away by her own mother, the Duchess, who had terrifying eyes. Though she wore a painted-on smile, Nadia could tell—it was a face barely suppressing rising irritation.
“What do you think you were doing?”
“I, I was…”
Nadia fiddled with her fingertips, completely intimidated. Instinctively, she felt she shouldn’t tell the truth. When she merely mumbled, the Duchess, her patience exhausted, stopped pressing and shoved Nadia’s hand away.
“Don’t be a nuisance and stay quiet. I don’t have time to worry about you.”
Nadia nodded obediently. She believed that if she were good, if she remained the child they wanted, the day would eventually come when she would be called “my angel.” It was the optimism of a child, and a self-deception to keep from crying.
Nadia grew accustomed to acting strong. At most, it was just lifting her chin high and looking down on everyone, but behaving that way soon became second nature.
The more Nadia armed herself with haughtiness and coldness, the further the people around her drifted away. From the maids who were always by her side to her family whom she saw barely once a week, and even the members of tea parties—the only social gatherings available to girls who had not yet reached adulthood.
There were plenty of maids who acted like the tongue in her mouth to avoid upsetting her, and no shortage of girls busy catering to her whims in hopes of gaining something from the daughter of a powerful family. Yet, she couldn’t gain a single friend to whom she could bare her soul.
She couldn’t figure out, no matter how much she thought, where it had all gone wrong.
Would things have been different if she had cried, thrown tantrums, and run around recklessly? Now, she couldn’t bring herself to utter a word of weakness to anyone.
Who could she tell? She could never say she was lonely to mere maids.
And if she showed weakness to her followers—those who followed the Ingram lady—her head grew heavy just imagining the consequences. Someone might try to exploit the gap she opened, or they might turn away, saying she wasn’t the lady they thought she was… only negative thoughts filled her mind.
Her optimism faded. Because she had become the strong, haughty, and dignified Lady Ingram, she felt no one would ever call her “my angel” or hold her as if she were something fragile.
The lonely girl, having turned seventeen without any change, stood blankly looking out the window, braving the endlessly chilly night wind. She couldn’t tell if her shivering was due to the wind or the loneliness.
Nadia’s social debut upon reaching adulthood was grand and magnificent beyond words. Her mother, Eloise, who usually seemed not to care whether Nadia lived or died, took charge of the debutante preparations as soon as Nadia approached adulthood, acting as her chaperone.
This, too, must be part of that ‘duty,’ Nadia thought cynically. Not a single trace remained of the young Nadia who had once struggled to gain even a scrap of her mother’s attention.
Nadia endured the entire schedule with a cold face and without a single complaint. Fitting new dresses, choosing jewelry, checking the etiquette she had repeated hundreds of times, practicing the latest trendy dances until her feet were blistered, and memorizing the faces and names of ladies from powerful families she needed to befriend.
The ball, which began in the early evening, was a resounding success. Among the seven girls debuting that day, Nadia was undoubtedly the most striking. She could easily guess that all the attention directed at her was because of the name attached to her.
Dressed in a blue silk gown that matched her eyes, her rich brown hair stylishly swept up and adorned with lilies and pearls, gazes followed her everywhere, scanning her from head to toe. Though they disguised it with smiles and polite speech, she felt the eyes evaluating her like she was a piece of high-quality beef hung in a butcher shop.
After dancing a few rounds in the hall with several young noblemen from familiar families, Nadia realized her impression wasn’t just a figment of her imagination.
Their situations wouldn’t be much different. After making an appearance like this, calculating and weighing which union would benefit their families most, their married lives would be cold and devoid of any warmth. Just like her parents, the Duke and Duchess. A shiver ran through her, but it was unavoidable. Everyone in aristocratic society lived that way, so she had no choice but to follow.
The best thing about reaching adulthood was that solo outings became possible. Although a minimum staff of one maid and one knight followed her, the fact that she didn’t have to ask her father or brother—who were hardly ever home—was more pleasing than anything.
Responding appropriately to the invitations that poured in and expanding her network was tiring and bothersome, but it couldn’t be neglected. What Nadia found interesting lately were the tea parties made up of young ladies around her age.
In the conversations of women of this period, men were an indispensable topic. Relationships between men and women—which she had thought were only cold and dry—were being transformed through their lips into something hot, secret, and sticky. Nadia lifted her teacup, pretending to drink while secretly listening.
“Enjoying yourself is fine, but you can’t go around making illegitimate children.”
The blonde lady looking around the group with a playful wink was the daughter of Count Melcard; she was two years older than Nadia and was awaiting marriage. She enjoyed recounting her escapades like heroic tales with her bold personality and wit, clearly relishing how the girls raised in greenhouses were embarrassed yet unable to hide their curiosity.
As the girls became somewhat adjusted to her explicit stories, they subtly urged her to continue.
Usually, it was Nadia’s role to lead the conversation at gatherings, but when it came to talking about men, she couldn’t add a single word. It was an unknown world to her. She didn’t even know how much of what they said she should believe.
As a couple more ladies joined in, cautiously sharing their own experiences in agreement with the Melcard lady, the stories became even more diverse. It was hard to believe that even ladies on the verge of marriage or in the middle of marriage talks were enjoying such “escapades.” Nadia’s stomach felt like it was churning, but she couldn’t stop quietly sipping her tea.
