“Crazy b*stard.”
He spat the curse under his breath, then alternated his gaze between what I had made and me.

“What are you staring at? Eat it already.”

When I slid the bowl up beneath his chin, the House Steward—who had been pressed face-down against the floor—went deathly pale.
He looked as though he might hurl some insult at me, but his lips only twitched. Not a single word came out.

“Do I need to spoon-feed you, too?”

I scooped up the barley porridge and held it right up to his mouth.
He tried desperately to recoil, dragging his body backward.

Watching him like that, I couldn’t help but laugh.
Really—such a waste to be the only one seeing this.
If Louis were here, it would’ve been even more entertaining.
It was a shame he wasn’t.

“Ah! I see. It must be because I forgot the garnish.”

I deliberately scooped a generous portion from where the earthworm lay.
The worm writhed atop the now-cold barley porridge—and in perfect sync, the House Steward’s body shuddered.

He might have thought there was no way I would actually make him eat this—but I truly intended to feed it to him.
After all, the meals I had been given until now were no better than this. If anything, they’d been worse.

“You should at least appreciate my effort.”

I lifted a spoonful of the specially prepared barley porridge and brought it to his mouth.
He clamped his lips shut, refusing to open them no matter what. So I tried to force it in.

He struggled desperately to avoid swallowing it.
But it was pointless.

I had the servants hold him down and poured it straight into his mouth.

And then—

“To humiliate me like this!”

Tears streamed down from the corners of his eyes.

“Shasha, tear off his clothes and leave him in nothing but his undergarments.”

Still holding the bowl and spoon, I turned away sharply.

In the past, doing something like this would have pricked my conscience—if only a little.
But now, strangely enough, I felt nothing but relief.

Was it because I had decided, in this life, to truly go mad?

***

Perhaps five days had passed since we tied up the House Steward.

As usual, I was enjoying a leisurely outdoor tea time when I spotted a carriage approaching rapidly in the distance.

Louis had returned.

“Looks like your master is back.”

I smiled faintly as I stroked the head of the House Steward, who had been tied to one of the estate’s pillars.
With lifeless eyes, the House Steward stared at the approaching carriage.

That was all.

After being treated worse than a dog for the past few days, he had grown docile.
Now he ate without complaint—whether worms were mixed into his food or even excrement.
It seemed he had learned how to submit.

You used to say that to me.
That humans are creatures of adaptation—that when there are no other choices, they learn to submit to reality.

Clatter. Clatter.

Before long, the carriage came to a stop in front of the estate.
With the coachman’s escort, the door swung open.

As expected, the one inside was Louis.

“Welcome back, Louis.”

Without even rising from my seat, I greeted him briefly and took another sip of tea.

Louis stared at me for a moment—then his gaze shifted to the House Steward sitting silently beside me.

“What the h*ll do you think you’re doing?!”

He roared the next instant.

“Have you lost your mind?”

The veins in his neck bulged as he strode straight toward me.

Bang!

At the same time, he slammed his fist down onto the table where I had been enjoying my tea.

Louis glared at me with blazing eyes. Judging by the way he was panting, he was furious.

“Did you do this to him? Huh?”

Instead of answering, I gave a light laugh.

“Untie him. Now. You’d better listen while I’m still being reasonable!”

Once again, instead of replying, I took another sip of tea.

“I said untie him! Are my words a joke to you? Huh?!”

To this man, did I even register as something significant—
or at the very least, did I count as a human being?

Honestly, defying a noble could earn punishments far worse than this.
Simply k*lling him felt insufficient for everything I had endured. I had even considered drying him out slowly, k*lling him inch by inch.
Even a quick death would have felt like mercy to him.

But watching Louis act like this now, I couldn’t help wondering if I’d been too lenient letting him live.

“Louis, am I your servant?”

“Cut the crazy talk.”

Louis ground his teeth audibly and slammed the table once more.

Just then, I noticed someone peeking her head out from the carriage, cautiously surveying the situation.

“Come here, Miss Hursel.”

The moment I spotted her, I raised my voice.

Louis immediately grabbed my wrist hard. Not only that—he glared at me, his eyes rolling wildly.

“Don’t you dare say Olivia’s name so casually.”

I was speechless.

“Casually?”

“Yes. Casually.”

What a devoted lover we have here.

After marrying me, Louis had kept me shut inside the house.
That wasn’t all. He hadn’t even allowed me the most basic social gatherings.

The only things permitted to me were writing in a stifling little room and, on occasion, reading a book.
Under the hollow title of Louis’s wife, there was not a single thing I was free to choose for myself.

Olivia, on the other hand, had no corner of this estate she couldn’t wander into.
Whenever the mood struck her, she even went out to stroll through the marketplace.

Unlike me, she was a free spirit.
In more ways than one.

“Louis, how can a person be this ugly?”

You threw her out—how long ago was that, only to call her back now? That woman?

“Do you remember the day you married me?”
“Do you know what you said then?”

“How would I know?”

Of course you wouldn’t.
That’s exactly why I’m saying it now.

“You swore you would love only me, didn’t you? And in exchange, you demanded an enormous dowry.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I never said that.”

Louis spat on the ground.

“Which part?”
“That you loved me?”
“Or that you demanded a massive dowry?”

“Both.”

“How shameless.”

I was so taken aback that no words came out.
But getting agitated here would only mean losing to Louis.

So I forced myself to stay calm.
And I decided—right then—not to use honorifics anymore.

“Hey, Louis.”

Honestly, it was almost admirable of me to have treated trash like him as a human being for so long.
I’d given human consideration to something that barely qualified as one.

“Do you seriously not understand the situation?”

“And you do?”
“Can’t you see what’s right in front of you right now? Huh?”
“Where’s your reverence for your sky-high husband?!”

Louis was so worked up that he sprayed spit in my face as he shouted.

“You talk sh*t with your mouth—and now even your spit stinks of it. Tsk.”

I picked up the fan that had been lying on the table and snapped it open.
It was to shield myself from his saliva.

“This is exactly why I’ve lost all interest in you—acting like that, you stupid b*tch.”

Louis snatched the fan out of my hand and hurled it straight to the floor.

Truly—classic Louis behavior.

He brought other women into the estate at the slightest whim, mocked me—the lawful wife—and humiliated me like this without hesitation.
And doing it in front of a concubine, no less.
Naturally, the servants followed suit, treating me with open contempt.

Because of one careless action of yours, I lived the past several decades in agony.
I starved—forced to eat trash that could hardly be called food—
and lived my entire life in loneliness before I died.

My entire life.

“Mia. Be honest with me. You married me because you wanted my money, didn’t you?”

“Don’t talk nonsense. Why would I want your money?”

“You didn’t?”

It was laughable.

Before marrying me, you were barely scraping by—clinging like a leech just to manage a single meal.
You were always lacking. Always wanting. Always desperate.

But I wasn’t.

Before I met you, I was wildly successful.
People were lining up everywhere, trying to get to me.

So you think I entrusted my future to you for money?
Don’t make me laugh.

“Louis, please—do try to say something that actually qualifies as human speech. At least be aware that what you’re saying right now is worse than that dog over there.”

I pointed at the House Steward, who was standing there in a daze. Louis’s eyebrow twitched.

“Do my words not sound like words to you?”
“And who told you to talk down to me?”
“Do you find your husband’s words amusing?”

What kind of ridiculous posturing is this now?

‘I lived worshipping my husband like he was the sky—and this is where it got me.’
‘And now you expect me to do it again?’

‘Honorifics only work when there’s respect to begin with.’