NRAL | Chapter 85

~Chapter 85~

Layer Upon Layer of Hatred

Hilda put her entire soul into dressing Eleanor today.

She had always done her best for Nora’s debutante ball, and when Eleanor went to meet her former fiancé. But today, she went beyond even her usual limits.

A face touched by love had the power to move people in ways that anger or revenge never could. Love was stronger, more effective than any of those emotions.

So, with her blue eyes blazing with passion, Hilda carefully braided every strand of Eleanor’s hair, decorated it delicately with dozens of small pearls, and arranged every pleat of the dress perfectly. Her expression was so intense that Lauren, a maid who came in to deliver something, whispered later that Hilda “looked like someone who sold her soul to the devil.”

A few hours later—

Hilda stood with a deeply satisfied smile as she watched Eleanor leave the mansion, escorted by Ernst.

‘Perfect.’

She noted every detail — the servants gasping in surprise as Eleanor passed, and how clumsy Ernst seemed compared to usual.

With a faint smile on her lips, Hilda collapsed onto the bed like a soldier who had died gloriously after a fierce battle.

(Lauren later described the scene exactly like that.)

***

Today’s meeting wasn’t a date — it was simply for planning strategy.

Even so, Eleanor couldn’t stop her heart from fluttering.

Karsian had confessed his love, and she felt something for him, too. When they talked at the restaurant Baron Turner had reserved, she was so happy that she lost track of time.

‘I need to calm down.’

Yes, she needed to pull herself together. Getting carried away would only interfere with her revenge.

‘Look at this — I came an hour early for no reason.’

Birds chirped happily nearby. Eleanor looked up and glanced around.

She was standing in Blue Turn Square, located in the center of Cardiff, an hour early.

It was a beautiful summer day. The sun was bright, leaves rustled gently in the breeze, and a street artist near the fountain played music with cheerful movements. The performance wasn’t technically perfect, but perhaps that’s why it felt more charming.

Not a bad way to kill an hour.

But something was bothering her—

‘Why is everyone looking at me?’

She was just sitting quietly in the shade, enjoying the music, but many people kept glancing her way.

Did they recognize her as a noble?

Her outfit was quite fancy, but in downtown Cardiff, it wasn’t anything too unusual. Besides, she was wearing a wide-brimmed hat that covered half her face, so recognizing her shouldn’t have been easy.

Also, the way people were looking at her felt… different than usual.

Curious, Eleanor asked the worst possible person for an honest opinion:

“Sir Ernst, don’t you think people are looking at me strangely? I don’t know why… Is there something on my face?”

“…No. There’s nothing there.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Your face is clean.”

Then why do you look so uncomfortable?

She almost asked, but decided against it. With each of her questions, Ernst’s expression grew more pained.

Still, she felt too awkward under everyone’s gaze. She lifted a hand to subtly shield her face and began looking around for a better spot—someplace with fewer eyes on her.

Luckily, a nearby rough path lined with trees caught her attention. Much more private than the open plaza.

“Sir Ernst, let’s go over th—”

She stopped mid-sentence. Ernst’s face had twisted into an intense grimace—and he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring past her.

Sensing something was wrong, Eleanor turned around quickly.

And just then—

Someone roughly grabbed her arm.

Blonde hair, blue eyes, a mouth that seemed unusually large — all came into view one by one. His messy hair and sweaty face delayed her recognition for a second, but she soon realized who the man was.

“Damian Astria. Why are you—?!”

The runaway brother, who had vanished in fear of their father’s wrath…

Eleanor never expected to find him here.

But of course, it was Damian. The very definition of unpredictable.

“Shut up and come with me!”

Damian barked a fierce command and pulled Eleanor away in the opposite direction. Ernst tried to stop him, but Eleanor quietly shook her head. There was still plenty of time before her appointment, and honestly, she did have a few things she wanted to say to Damian.

‘Wait… has he been staying at Hotel Mercedes this whole time?’

As she followed him down a quiet, empty back alley, a disturbing suspicion crept into her mind.

It made sense. The Blue Turn Square they were just in was right next to the famous Hotel Mercedes.

Damian looked like he’d just crawled out of bed, messy and untidy, but his hair and skin gave off the faint scent of high-end luxuries. There was no mistaking it.

Unbelievable.

Her soon-to-be brother-in-law had caused an enormous scandal at that very hotel… and yet here Damian was, staying there as if nothing happened. The Duke would absolutely explode if he found out. It also explained why the Astria knights hadn’t found him yet.

Hotel Mercedes was the last place anyone would expect Damian to be hiding. But that didn’t mean he had chosen it for clever reasons. Most likely, he’d just picked the fanciest place he could think of—because he wanted to.

Eventually, Damian came to a stop.

They hadn’t gone far, but the alley was deep and dark, especially for being in the city center. There was no foot traffic at all.

“…Did Father leave?”

His first question was painfully predictable.

“If you mean for the estate inspection—yes. He left early this morning.”

“How, uh… how mad was he?”

His voice trembled, and he looked around nervously. Eleanor couldn’t help but snort in disbelief.

This same man who had wrestled in a run-down gambling den now flinched like a beaten dog at the thought of their father. It was both pathetic and ironic.

“What do you think? Do you really believe he wasn’t mad?”

She smirked as she said it—and that was enough to make Damian’s face flush red with anger. His features, once steeped in worry, twisted into something much uglier.

“You bitch. Acting all high and mighty after being whipped like a damn animal—”

Damian dropped all pretense of manners and let his unbearable rage out, maybe because no one was around to scold him.

“What? Haven’t been smacked around lately and forgot how it feels? Want me to remind you?”

Eleanor met his burning blue eyes without a flinch.

Because he had brought up “the old days,” the memories she had long buried began to resurface—vivid and disgusting. She remembered clearly how she had built layers and layers of hatred toward Damian.

Years ago, when he was even more immature and reckless than he was now, Damian had physically hit her without hesitation. The pain wasn’t as bad as what she endured from her father—but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. And it was every day.

But physical violence wasn’t what scarred her the most.

“Kyaa, AAHHHHH!”

She was fifteen. That autumn smelled of blood.

Morning or evening—it didn’t matter. Eleanor would find animal corpses left outside her bedroom door. Freshly killed. Still bleeding.

After Oliver’s death, Damian had watched her crush. He must have understood what really hurt her from that grief.

Animals. The only living beings Eleanor had dared to open her heart to. That was her weakness, and Damian found it.

He killed a stray cat she’d been feeding.

He slaughtered a young horse that she had affectionately named.

He hunted down dogs that looked like Oliver and left their tortured and disabled bodies at her door.

It only stopped once she no longer reacted. Once she had trained herself not to care.

But sometimes—she still saw them. Hallucinations of animal corpses outside her door.

The smell of blood haunted her dreams.

“Yeah. Those were the good days, weren’t they? Don’t you remember? I even fed you a fresh meal once—with my own hands.”

Damian was getting excited, drunk on the memory of his own cruelty.

And that brought up another unforgettable moment.

“No! Let go! Urghhh!”

Also when she was fifteen.

At that time, the Duke was away often due to problems in the estate. With no one to watch him, Damian acted without restriction.

Tired of just killing animals, one day he brought Eleanor a “special treat” in a small box. He claimed it was a gift.

Inside the box… was a rat.

A filthy little thing that had been caught running across the warehouse floor.

Damian, with the help of his servants and knights, forces Eleanor down. Then he shoved the rat—alive—into her mouth.

“You probably ate stuff like this at the orphanage anyway! HAHAHA! Swallow it! SWALLOW IT!”

“Urghh! Bleghh!”

In the end, she swallowed it. And fell severely ill afterward.

“…No need to remind me. I remember it all perfectly.”

Eleanor replied with a soft, chilling smile.

Sure, her hatred for Damian might not be as strong as what she felt for Arlo. But it hadn’t disappeared. Not in the slightest.

Six years ago—before Arlo became crown prince and she became the official crown princess candidate—Damian had been one of the primary tormentors of her life.

“Go ahead. Do your worst, if you can.”

“Hah! Don’t think I won’t! Now that everything’s out—my lies, my secrets—I’ve got no reason to hold back!”

“Hmm… Are you sure everything is out?”

Eleanor tilted her head, her voice calm and mysterious.

Damian flinched. Just for a second. But then he quickly lifted his chin, trying to look defiant.

So what? His falsified academic records had been exposed. His gambling debts were public now. What else was there to fear?

He told himself she was lying.

Until—

Eleanor began reciting a familiar letter. Word for word:

“Nora, why won’t you come see me? You said we wanted the same things. Was my trust not enough? I keep replaying our proof in my mind—your soft lips, your tender skin…”

Damian’s eyes went wide.