Chapter 1.
Isn’t this pure nonsense?
“From now on, I will impose a tax on the sound of bells.”
Diabella lowered her eyes and spoke haughtily.
“…Pardon?”
The butler let out a stupid sound. The Madam had acted selfishly many times before, but this time, he couldn’t believe his ears.
“Isn’t it thanks to the Marquis’ family that the people of the domain can farm peacefully and live without worries? Then, instead of idly listening to the sound of bells, they should show gratitude each time.”
‘…Live without worries, she says.’
The butler clicked his tongue inwardly. Ever since Diabella entered as the Marchioness, not only the people of the land but even the servants of the Marquis’ household sighed more with each passing day.
“Why no answer?”
“…Forgive me, but to—to impose a tax even on bell sounds seems a little too much, I think—ugh!”
The fan Diabella threw struck the butler near his left eye. The sharp tip pricked his eyelid, swelling it red, but Diabella paid no attention.
“How dare you defy me, the representative of the Marquis? A disloyal butler is of no use—leave at once!”
“I beg your pardon! I’ve committed a grave sin, Madam. Please, don’t order me to leave the Marquis’ house. I will obey whatever command you give.”
For a butler who had devoted his life to the Marquis’ family, leaving was unthinkable, like losing his entire world.
“…Hmm, well, perhaps I’ll watch you a bit longer.”
Diabella smirked and flicked her empty hand. The butler quickly picked up the fan and offered it back.
“What? Disgusting. You expect me to use a fan that touched your filthy eye? My hand will rot. Throw it away at once!”
Flustered, the butler handed it to a maid, who hurried off to the incinerator.
“In exchange for overlooking your mistake today,”
Diabella raised one eyebrow.
“Bring the tax from the bells directly to me. That money is for protecting the people, so there’s no need to report it to the Marquis or the Lady Dowager. Understood?”
And so, with every toll of the bells, gold coins piled up before Diabella. Anyone unable to pay—pregnant women, sick elders, whoever—she drove out of the land.
The wailing of the banished echoed outside the territory like funeral cries. And all of this happened in the single month the Marquis was away.
***
“Crazy!”
Hajin tossed her phone onto the pillow. Even for a villainess, wasn’t this too much?
A friend had recommended webnovels as a good distraction, so she’d tried one—but this was nothing but absurd melodrama.
Hajin downed her soju in one shot. On the cramped desk of her exam dorm room were stacks of books and notes. On one corner, a soju bottle and cup. Her only side dish was instant noodles. As she gulped the soup, her phone vibrated.
[How’s the webnovel?]
[What is this, pure trash? Ridiculous.]
[That’s the point, lol. If you endure the frustrating part, the sweet revenge comes later. It’s dumb and obvious, but once you read, it’s addictive and clears your mind.]
[Not sure, haha. By the way, did you go to the TA’s office today?]
[Yeah. While there, I asked about your grades…]
[Eh, you didn’t have to.]
[But isn’t it weird? You got all A+, yet you’re not valedictorian! How is that? You’re scary, Hajin—three years straight of all A+ in Korea Uni’s econ dept. I respect you, haha.]
[Respect my ass. I’m not even top this time.]
[Exactly! Why not? The TA said she’ll check later. She asked how many credits you took.]
[18. I added another tutoring job this semester—busy.]
[Ah, that’s why… The top student, Youngbin, took 22 credits.]
Haa.
Hajin tugged at her hair. Because of dorm rent and textbooks, she had taken another tutoring job. She hadn’t realized that when multiple students tied with A+, rankings went to whoever had more credits.
[Still, second place is amazing. I’d be thrilled just to average B+.]
No.
It wasn’t amazing.
She shook her head. First place meant a full scholarship, second place only half. Next semester’s tuition was already a problem.
‘…Should I take a student loan? But my dad already left me so much debt… I wanted to cover it with scholarships.’
Huuu.
She gulped more soju. They say if soju tastes sweet, life is more bitter than liquor. And indeed—it tasted sweet, too sweet, going down fast.
Whatever. Tonight, she didn’t want to think about anything. She reopened the webnovel.
***
In the story, Diabella’s schemes are finally exposed.
Even the Marquis, who had overlooked so many of her cruelties, could no longer forgive her betrayal and tormenting of the people. He demanded a divorce.
Diabella staged a fake suicide with poison to avoid it, but someone had swapped in real poison—and she died.
The Marquis later remarried a kind baron’s daughter who had secretly helped the banished. She had been Diabella’s only friend.
[Serves her right, lol. Diabella? Diablo suits her better. The people picked the nickname well. What a b****. No, villainess is too kind a word. She’s just trash. If I had money like her, I’d never live like that, damn rotten—!]
Over-immersed, Hajin left an unusually nasty comment. Her eyes drooped, and she slumped over her desk asleep, bathed in moonlight.
For the poor, it was another weary night.
***
“…Mmm… what time is it?”
Hajin stirred awake in bed.
“My Lady! You’ve woken up!”
My Lady? What nonsense was this? Was she still half-asleep?
“Quick, bring the Marquis! Madam has opened her eyes!”
Oh sure, congratulations to her. But… was this a dream? A lucid dream?
She’d had lucid dreams before, realizing, “This is a dream.” So she thought that’s what this was.
“The Marquis is here!”
Suddenly the place grew hectic. Heavy footsteps drew near, and someone hugged her tightly. In a low, trembling voice, almost only for her to hear:
“…Thank goodness you’re alive.”
Eh? Out of nowhere?
‘Even if it’s a dream, what’s going on?’
Hajin was confused. Who was holding her so desperately? She felt the weight of a strong, solid body above her. Warm tears trickled onto her face.
‘Before I wake up, at least—I need to see the face of the person who wants me this much!’
Just as she tried to sit up—
“Marquis, here are the papers you requested.”
Another voice spoke.
“Ah, those papers.”
The man’s tone instantly turned cold as he pulled away from Hajin. A sheet of paper fluttered down onto her damp face.
“As expected. You regained consciousness, so it was all just another act. This time, don’t think you can wriggle out of it. Accept the divorce.”
“…What?”
The tender voice from earlier—had she imagined it? His words now were sharp and icy, making her tremble.
‘And what divorce? When did I even get married? This is ridiculous.’
Maybe it really was just a dream. But the wet paper sticking to her face felt too real. She sat up abruptly.
Soft.
“Whoa… This bed… it’s so soft! Not like my dorm’s broken spring—Whaaat?!”
Bouncing on the plush bed, Hajin finally peeled the paper from her face—and screamed.
At least ten people stood around her bed, staring open-mouthed at her bouncing.
“Wh-what the heck!”
“…Madam.”
The man closest to her frowned, then checked her forehead with his hand. Despite his cold look, his touch was warm.
His deep green eyes looked down at her. Silver hair fell gracefully, framing a high nose.
“M-Mr. Handsome!”
Hajin clapped her hands over her mouth, pointing at his face.
What was this? A man this gorgeous—one you see maybe once in a lifetime?
“Everyone, are you seeing this? Look at his face!”
She stared wide-eyed. Looking closer, the servants’ outfits were strange—like maid uniforms and butler suits from a European period drama. And this dazzling man beside her—was he a prince?
“Wait… are we filming? A drama? Or some hidden camera prank? Did they move me while I was asleep? Without consent? This is lawsuit material!”
She searched around for cameras, under the bed, behind curtains—nothing.
“You, Madam! What absurd play is this again? Another stunt to avoid divorce?”
His harsh grip on her shoulders and scornful eyes made her shrink.
“Ow!”
“I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you, Madam.”
His cold face melted into an awkward one.
“Wow… when he’s not mad, he’s totally gorgeous.”
“Madam! What in the world…”
He pressed his temples like his head ached.
“Ah, sorry. I don’t usually blurt my thoughts. But this must be a dream, right? Your face and all this—it’s too unreal. Words just slip out.”
“This is not a dream, Madam.”
Yet, right after shoving divorce papers at her, he kept calling her Madam.
“Then… why don’t you slap me?”
When he had grabbed her earlier, she had felt real pain—but still, this was too strange. She needed to test it again.
“What nonsense! How could I ever strike my wife?”
“No, not hard. Just lightly. If this is a dream, it won’t hurt.”
He looked at her for a long while, clearly thinking she was acting odd. Finally, hesitantly, he poked her cheek with one finger.
Her soft skin sank under his touch. The feeling was unmistakably real.
“…This isn’t a dream?”
