“Haah, haah.”

As Tilda gasped for breath, he slowly pulled his wet lips away from hers.

“But you know…”

“…”

“Even when I’m drowning in your cold, icy eyes – sometimes I think… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to fall all the way down with you.”

His voice, almost a whisper, held the sparkle of madness. Then, lifting one corner of his mouth in a crooked smile, Calles asked,

“Do I seem mad to you?”

Tilda’s fingers twitched involuntarily. The eerie shiver that ran through her fingertips came not from his words, but from the way he smiled as he said them.

“Step back.”

She wiped her damp lips and leaned into his chest. Calles drew back without resistance, though his heavy breathing—just like hers—was proof of the heated kiss they had just shared.

“I will forgive the kiss today. Now leave.”

“How fortunate.”

By the time he straightened his robes and stood at the door, he had once again taken on the appearance of a devout and composed priest.

Tilda shot him a glare. She resented how effortlessly he seemed to regain his composure—especially today.

“When I look into your eyes, it feels like I’m drowning in a deep, bottomless pool…”

Her own heart still hadn’t returned to normal – it was pounding violently in her chest.

Her mouth felt dry from the heat that had risen to her head. But she couldn’t afford to sit there in a daze any longer.

‘Alice would be here soon.’

Tilda brought the back of her hand to her flushed cheek and took a steadying breath.

‘It was time to greet her.’

A suspicious figure lingered at the back gate of the papal palace. A woman wearing a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over her face.

Tilda, already knowing it was Alice, went to greet her personally.

“Alice.”

“Lady Tilda!”

“Come in.”

Just getting here seemed to put Alice on edge – she kept looking around nervously.

“You can’t just go out because of Viscount Douglas, can you?”

Tilda asked gently. Alice’s ears flushed red. She was probably still embarrassed from the humiliating scene in the street last time.

“It’s fine today. I made sure to sneak out carefully.”

Still, the way she kept scanning her surroundings suggested it was an old habit, one born of longstanding fear.

Tilda swallowed her bitterness and quickened her pace. Once they were in a more private, enclosed space, Alice would be able to breathe easier.

They finally reached a reception room within the Papal Palace. There Alice finally removed her suffocatingly tight hat, which had been pulled down so low that it obscured her vision.

Her pale face was marked by faint bruises. But even more striking than the bruises were her eyes – dull and lifeless, as if her spirit had already left her.

It was this that made her look truly worn down.

Tilda sat Alice down on a reception sofa and poured her a cup of tea.

Like a cautious herbivore, Alice took small, tentative sips.

Tilda calmly lifted her own cup and asked,

“Why didn’t you sell the ring I gave you and run away?”

The ring she had given Alice had once been her engagement ring. A rare blue diamond that Windsor had spent months acquiring. Its value was more than enough for a woman to live comfortably for the rest of her life.

And yet, Alice had never left Viscount Douglas. He was the kind of man who spent more days drunk than sober. So if she’d really wanted to get away from him, it wouldn’t have been difficult.

Which meant that the person Alice was most afraid of wasn’t Douglas.

“Is it because you’re afraid of Windsor Nokilla and Aklaire Belmont?”

Alice’s eyes widened in shock, as if Tilda had hit a nerve.

“H-How did you…?”

Tilda felt a strange mixture of emotions at Alice’s question.

Windsor had once been her husband. Aklaire, her former stepmother. And yet Alice reacted as if it made no sense for Tilda to know what was going on.

‘Exactly. I lived with Windsor and Aclaire, and yet I was no better than a frog in a well – completely blind to what was going on around me.’

Alice clutched her hat tightly, crumpling it in her hands before finally finding the strength to speak.

“As you already know, my husband, Viscount Douglas… is deeply involved with Count Nokilla. And so is Duke Belmont. I… I know too much. If I ever disappeared, they wouldn’t let it go.”

Just as she suspected. In fact, the very first thing Tilda had ordered Calles’s informants to investigate was Windsor’s circle.

And so she had found Viscount Douglas – and his wife Alice.

At first, Tilda had been surprised that Alice had stayed with him after the incident. But deep down she could vaguely understand why.

After all, she had lived next door to Windsor and Aclaire and had seen first hand the things Douglas had done for them…

‘Alice must have been afraid.’

And after being crushed under his heel for so long, her mind was probably so dulled that she could no longer imagine escape.

‘Poor woman.’

Tilda’s heart ached for her – not just out of pity, but genuine compassion.

For she knew better than anyone what it was like to be shackled by something intangible, to be slowly worn down, humiliated, until your soul began to rot.

“The Duke of Belmont is also dead now. Misfortune seems to follow you wherever you go. Or did you kill him, like your own mother?”

“You’ve nothing left now. Only your pitiful pride. And even that won’t last much longer.”

“Sleeping with you was as boring as playing chess with old men in the park. Even that body I used to like isn’t worth a thing anymore.”

Windsor’s countless cruel stabs still resurfaced from time to time, branding her mind like a scarlet mark burned into the flesh of a slave.

He had tried to tame her as one tramples wild grass. by breaking her spirit with endless cruelty. And then, out of nowhere, she asked.

“Do you know what flowers bloom in spring?”

At Tilda’s sudden question, Alice blinked in confusion.

“I… I’m not really sure. My world has been grey for so long, I’ve forgotten.”

Tilda gave her a faint, gentle smile and looked at her quietly.

“I think the same goes for you.”

“Ah…”

Something stirred inside Alice -a warmth that welled up in her chest and made her feel as if tears might spill out at any moment.

She realised it had been so long since she’d thought about such things.

What flowers bloomed in spring?

What colours and scents did they have?

How clear was the sky in autumn?

Why had she gone years without noticing things she could have seen by just looking around?

“I will help you to remember the colours of spring flowers.”

At these words, Alice finally broke down. Tears streamed down her cheeks and soaked into the pale blue fabric of her skirt, darkening it in small round patches.

“Of course it won’t be easy, but Alice, if I have your help – I know I can do it.”

The tears didn’t last long. Alice wiped them away quickly, almost out of habit. Whenever she cried, Viscount Douglas became more violent. So she’d trained herself to stop before it got worse.

“H-How?”

“You need to get close to Aclaire Belmont.”

Alice’s face turned pale.

“M-Me? But how could I possibly…”

“Aclaire’s looking for a new maid.”

The moment Alice realised what Tilda was asking her to do, she instinctively straightened up.

As if someone had just corrected her posture with a sharp word.

“I-I can’t do that!”

She knew better than anyone how terrifying Aclaire Belmont was. She’d heard the secret orders Aclaire had sent through Viscount Douglas more than once. A woman who didn’t hesitate to hurt, to kill, to ruin lives.

“I know it’s a difficult request, but I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it.”

Alice instinctively reached up and grabbed her own head, trying to stop herself from shaking it.

“If you become her maid, it might not be so bad for you either. Viscount Douglas won’t be able to lay a hand on you. Aclaire won’t tolerate seeing bruises on her own servant’s face.”

“But still…”

“You’re his wife. That means Aclaire won’t find it suspicious. In fact, she’ll treat you with more ease and trust you more than a stranger.”

It wasn’t just an emotional appeal – there was a clear and undeniable logic to Tilda’s words.

Alice could no longer bring herself to say it was impossible.

“Do you really think she’d take me on as a maid?”

“Don’t worry, as I said, Aclaire is looking for someone who can handle delicate, private tasks. And if you’re Viscount Douglas’ wife, she’ll assume you already know parts of her true nature – so she’s unlikely to turn you down.”

This was true… There were only so many things she could entrust to an ordinary servant.

“So if you become Aklaire’s handmaiden, you’ll probably be assigned tasks that are… a little darker and more discreet. And all I ask is that you report these tasks to me once a week.”

At first Alice was overwhelmed with fear, but as she met Tilda’s steady, unflinching gaze, something inside her began to settle.

This wasn’t an act to convince her. There was something genuine in Tilda’s eyes – something others never seemed to have.

Sincerity. Conviction. And for a while, Alice just stared at her in silence.

“I… I just have to do this? That’s really all?”

“Of course.”

Then a smile broke out on Tilda’s face – angelic and beautiful. And Alice knew she could not refuse it any longer.

“All right. I’ll try.”

“Thank you, Alice.”

‘Ah…’

It had been so long since anyone had said her name like that. Alice felt the corners of her eyes warm again, foolish as it was.

Tilda reached out and gently took Alice’s hand.

“When this is over, we will both finally be free.”

As their hands overlapped, the once cold touch began to warm almost instantly.