Chapter 12
Since Bella had taken Liza outside, Carla had no choice but to change clothes by herself. She had only changed clothes, but it felt like she had done hard labor. She threw herself onto the bed and started going over what she remembered from Carla’s diary.
Carla’s family had produced priests for generations. They were extremely religious—almost to a crazy level—and followed religious rules so strictly that it was disgusting.
Before vowing to stay pure with her husband in the name of God, Carla also promised to be honest and loyal. To avoid doing anything shameful before God, she never stole money from the household, donated to the temple every week, and never harmed anyone…
“Damn bastard.”
The Count didn’t place Liza with Carla because he was dumb or loved Liza more. He must have believed that Carla wouldn’t hurt Liza.
Carla cursed under her breath. Yes, if it were Carla, she probably wouldn’t have harmed Liza. She might punish a maid for doing wrong, but she wouldn’t hurt someone out of jealousy. Especially not her husband’s beloved mistress. She wouldn’t want to lose his affection.
She must have listened to that sweet and pretty maid chatting beside her while holding back her anger. Maybe she cried on a piece of paper and prayed to God. How pathetic. Carla’s anger boiled inside.
Unlike Carla, she didn’t love blindly. She wasn’t the type to stay quiet if someone hit her.
“Icarus…”
She muttered the Count’s name like she was biting it. She couldn’t take out the diary hidden under the bed in case someone saw, so she repeated Carla’s diary in her mind.
Because Carla was blinded by love, most of her writings about the Count were useless small talk.
“I don’t even want to eat with the Count, but now I have to sleep with him too…”
Luckily for Carla, the Count had made excuses for a while to avoid sleeping with her. But thinking that she might eventually have to share a bed with him sent chills down her spine.
Just then, someone knocked on the door.
“May I come in?”
It was the Count. Not a gentleman at all—even though technically a noble. Carla rolled her eyes at the thought and stood up. She didn’t even fix her messy hair properly and replied with arrogance.
“Go ahead.”
Even though her reply was late, the Count must have been waiting patiently outside. He opened the door right away.
He was clearly trying to control his anger, but Carla could hear his heavy breathing. As soon as the door closed, he scolded her.
“Your heart must be made of ice.”
If her heart was made of ice, then the Count’s brain was probably made of something that caught fire easily—burned up by his foolish love.
Carla was more convinced than ever: this stupid man loved getting into fights he couldn’t win. His chest was rising and falling quickly.
She waited to hear what excuse he had for yelling at her.
“Hitting a young maid out of jealousy? That’s disgusting…”
So he was angry that she had slapped Liza. Carla had expected this reaction, but she didn’t think he would show up so fast. It was laughable.
She crossed her arms and smirked.
“I just punished a rude maid. What’s wrong with that?”
She tilted her chin up and stared at him. Carla secretly enjoyed arguing with people—especially if it was someone like the Count, not a poor or weak person.
“Even if that girl warms your bed, I’m still the Countess.”
The Count clenched his fists. He looked ready to explode but ground his teeth and muttered,
“You shameless woman…”
“Oh my, I’m sorry you didn’t know.”
“And to think you stole earrings just because you liked them… Shame on you.”
Carla just shrugged.
She wasn’t the one who should feel ashamed. It was the Count and Liza, who were blinded by love and acted without thinking.
“What earrings are you talking about?”
“Are you pretending you don’t know?”
“I’ve never seen them.”
She lied boldly—even she could barely believe her own words.
But since she had already given the earrings back to Liza earlier, they weren’t with her anymore. Whether Liza claimed they were stolen or the Count just assumed, it didn’t matter.
“So where are these earrings?”
The Count replied confidently.
“Obviously, you stole them. They must be in a drawer or something.”
“Go ahead. Search all you want.”
She turned her body so the Count could check the vanity. He didn’t hesitate and walked over to start opening drawers. Carla watched him fall into his own trap with a grin.
“…Then you must be hiding them on you.”
She pulled back her hair and showed her empty earlobes. The Count couldn’t bring himself to touch her. He stepped back, grinding his teeth.
“I’ll be watching you.”
“Make sure you apologize for insulting me first.”
“Maybe it was a misunderstanding…”
The Count spit out each word with an angry face, trying hard to stay calm.
“Do you even know why I don’t wear earrings?”
Carla asked suddenly, watching his face. Deep down, she hoped he might know something—anything—about Carla’s body, something beyond his obsession with his mistress.
But his reply was cold and careless.
“Because they don’t suit you. What other reason could there be?”
“Right. Shouldn’t have bothered asking.”
She waved her hand like it didn’t matter anymore. The Count left the room without another word. Carla lay back down on the bed after his footsteps disappeared.
“So that’s how it’s going to be…”
Her frustration with him boiled over. She started thinking again about how to kill him—a habit she had whenever she felt overwhelmed.
“When my old boss was awful, I searched the internet all day for ideas…”
The easiest would be poison. If she slipped him food he was allergic to, it could look like an accident.
Was there anything in Carla’s diary about his allergies? It was quiet outside, so she pulled out the hidden diary. But no matter how much she read, she couldn’t find any food the Count avoided.
He had no allergies. No picky tastes. Damn it.
She went through a list of poisons in her head. Cyanide? Arsenic? Lead poisoning? Too slow. Mercury? Hard to get. What about poisonous mushrooms?
She could dry them and mix them in food—maybe no one would notice.
But what if someone else accidentally ate it? There were no CCTV cameras in this world. Killing someone was not going to be easy.
“Ugh…”
She got up and walked around. On the vanity sat a whole apple pie. Bella must have brought it and left it there. Carla cut a big piece and started eating it. There was a strong cinnamon taste on her tongue.
“Cinnamon?”
Cinnamon came from tropical trees. But their region wasn’t tropical.
Then again, maybe somewhere in this world, there were tropical regions. If trade was happening, then maybe lychee fruit could be brought here too. Carla remembered reading a news story about someone dying from eating unripe lychee.
“Maybe it’s worth a try…”
She set down the pie, thinking of the soft, sweet flesh of the lychee fruit. Just imagining it made her dizzy. What would it feel like to feed poison to someone?
“He won’t die from it… Maybe just get a bad stomach.”
Even if she failed, it wouldn’t matter. It was just fruit. Just a snack. She clenched her fist. She had to get strong enough that the Count couldn’t touch her.
And for that, she needed money.
Right now, she only had a little money from faking records and one mine. Was there any way to get back her dowry?
She finished the rest of the pie while thinking hard about ways to make money. After all, it wasn’t like she could really kill anyone.
Next scene:
The mansion was filled with tension. The maids stayed completely silent, afraid to say a word. The Count didn’t call Carla or invite her to meals. She didn’t either.
They acted like they didn’t care about each other—while secretly planning to destroy one another. The only one who couldn’t keep her distance was Liza.
Maybe she thought Carla had been scolded badly by the Count, because she started acting a little too familiar. Bella was horrified, but Carla didn’t care. Instead, she began to bully Liza in childish and petty ways.
“This tea is bitter. Brew it again.”
She rejected the tea at least twice each time. If the snacks weren’t to her liking, she sent them back and asked for new ones.
Liza looked like she was about to cry, but she still followed orders. Even so, she was always cheerful and upbeat. Her footsteps were just as loud and bouncy as ever—especially when she came up the stairs. Carla could never get used to that noise.
