Chapter 1.2

Lucia walked under fluttering laundry lines in a narrow alley before entering an apartment with faded yellow walls and dark red shutters. Quietly closing the heavy door, she held her breath and listened.  

After confirming there were no signs of movement, she hung her hat on the coat rack and immediately ran quietly to her bedroom on the second floor.  

Entering her room, she collapsed onto the bed and checked the clock. Fifteen minutes remained.  

‘I managed to return on time… but maybe I should’ve stayed away.’  

At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Lucia tensed for a moment but relaxed when her personal maid, Sara, opened the door and entered.  

She let out a sigh of relief.  

“You’re back, Miss. Thank goodness.”  

“It was cutting it close this time, wasn’t it?”  

“I thought I’d have to clean up all the breakable items. Let’s get you dressed up enough to avoid scolding from Madam.”  

While Sara combed her messy hair, Lucia took out a medicine bottle she had purchased with today’s earnings from her inner pocket. Sara accepted the bottle with a sorrowful smile.  

“I’ve told you, Miss, you don’t need to help anymore.”  

“How is Nicolo doing?”  

“He took his first steps yesterday! The doctors said he wouldn’t survive a month after birth, but… you saved—”  

“Ahem.”  

Sara’s words were abruptly cut off by a cough.  

Lucia’s mother, Marisa, stood in the doorway with her arms crossed.  

“Madam! We’re almost ready!”  

Sara exclaimed urgently, brushing Lucia’s hair even more vigorously as if to show off her diligence. Several strands of hair were pulled out in the process, but Lucia maintained her expressionless face.  

Marisa scrutinized Lucia’s plain brown-striped dress, devoid of any decorations.  

“What is that outfit? You use the beautiful dresses I bought you as rags?”  

“I’m sorry, Mother.”  

Lucia replied flatly.  

Marisa crossed the room and grabbed Lucia’s chin, forcing her to meet her gaze directly.  

“Don’t play any tricks today, Lucia.”  

“Yes, Mother.”  

Marisa gave Lucia one last look before leaving the room.  

Ten minutes later, Lucia headed to the parlor.  

On the dark green sofa sat a handsome man in his mid-twenties.  

Lucia took a seat on the opposite sofa.  

“Hello, Miss Lucia.”  

The man greeted her warmly.  

Lucia responded indifferently and sipped her tea.  

Although her family always lived a lavish lifestyle, they served particularly expensive tea to her suitors.  

Nowadays, the number of suitors visiting had dwindled, and Lucia decided to enjoy the rare opportunity to drink the pricey tea herself.  

Today’s tea was Bai Hao Yin Zhen. Lucia held the tea in her mouth, savoring its subtle melon aroma.  

She felt the man’s gaze on her. It wasn’t blatant, but his eyes lingered on her from head to toe.  

She was used to this by now, yet it still made her feel like a cow being led to market.  

‘At least he’s not openly staring.’  

She found it ridiculous that she felt grateful for the bare minimum of courtesy. But there was a reason for it.  

Was it last year? One suitor’s gaze had been glued below her neckline throughout their entire ‘conversation.’ That man had been swiftly dealt with by setting his trousers on fire.  

This man’s gaze settled on her hips. He had clearly heard about her from her parents.  

Lucia set her teacup down.  

The man, realizing his rude stare had been noticed, flinched but quickly recovered and spoke cheerfully.  

“Miss Lucia, you rarely appear in society, so I’ve been very curious about you. You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”  

‘He’s moving fast.’  

Surely he didn’t plan to propose right after meeting me for the first time today?  

Lucia thought to herself.  

She suddenly felt nauseous and quickly gulped down her tea.  

The current trend in courtship was for suitors to spend time alone with the woman they were interested in during each visit, getting to know her ‘naturally.’  

The elders criticized this indecent custom of unmarried men and women meeting without a chaperone, but Lucia found it convenient.  

Had she been born a little earlier, she would’ve been married off under her family’s watchful eyes during every courtship attempt.  

The mere thought was horrifying.  

“What if I say I have no intention of marrying?”  

The man laughed brightly in response.  

“That would make me very happy! My younger sister has the latest ‘Guide to Courtship for Ladies,’ so I know the rules. You’re already rejecting me before I’ve proposed! Thank you for thinking so highly of me.”  

That stupid guide. Was there no way to burn every booklet in existence?  

The man continued speaking enthusiastically.  

“Shall I propose now and be done with it? Honestly, I’d prefer to move quickly. My grandfather is ill, and I can only inherit his fortune if I have a grandson. Where’s the ring?”  

He fumbled through his pockets. Lucia sighed.  

“Ah, here it is!”  

The man grinned as he produced a small box.  

Lucia spoke.  

“Can’t you just take it as me not wanting to marry?”  

“What woman wouldn’t want to marry? Unless she’s a witch living alone in the woods! Even such a witch would fall for a prince on a white horse!”  

Satisfied with his clever analogy, the man knelt on one knee.  

Lucia pulled a hidden string tucked between the sofa cushions.  

The sound of strings filled the room like mist.  

The man looked around.  

“Do you hear something? Uh, Miss Lucia?”  

He called out to her, but she sat motionless like a statue.  

She spoke softly.  

“You called me a witch.”  

Click.  

The man heard a faint sound he couldn’t quite identify, and then her eyes turned red.  

“Ahhhhh!”  

Terrified by the supernatural sight, the man fell backward.  

Lucia wanted to warn him never to return, but he fled in such a panic that she didn’t have the chance to speak.  

“Mr. Marino, what’s wrong? Wait, wait!”  

Outside, her parents’ voices could be heard trying to stop him.  

Ignoring them, the man ran off, and the front door slammed shut behind him.  

Lucia pulled the string again.  

The music box hidden under the rug stopped.  

The red glass and eyepiece that had cast a crimson glow onto Lucia’s eyes behind the vase also turned off.  

“Lucia Chiara Bianchi!”  

Her father’s roar echoed through the house.  

She had successfully chased away another suitor today.  

***

Marriage.

One day, people marry because they are swept up in the whirlwind of passionate love.  

Sometimes, they slowly grow on each other until they can’t imagine living a single day without that person.  

Others marry thinking it will be an exciting adventure.  

And yet, some marry without the slightest feeling of love, driven only by the desire for a comfortable life.  

All of these reasons are understandable.  

However, Lucia decided at a young age that she would never marry.  

It wasn’t because she disliked her suitors.  

As the daughter of a wealthy merchant, Lucia had met many suitors over the past few years—some were exceedingly polite, others strikingly handsome, and a few even supported her passion for inventions, calling it a “good hobby.”  

Yet Lucia rejected every single proposal.  

Lucia’s parents had no interest in their daughter’s happiness.  

They only cared about how much her marriage would benefit them.  

To offer enticing conditions, they spread rumors that their family line had historically high fertility rates. Those baseless claims attracted suitors like today’s visitor, who sought to marry Lucia solely to have sons.  

Lucia began driving away her suitors.  

Of course, there were consequences to this…  

Lucia’s father, Cedro Bianchi, paused his whipping to wipe the sweat from his brow.  

The end of the hazel branch he wielded was slick with Lucia’s blood, sticking to her skin with every strike.  

Even in his highly agitated state, Cedro avoided her face, neck, and arms, targeting only areas covered by clothing.  

As a successful merchant, he had developed the habit of not damaging his “goods.”  

Lucia, leaning against the wall with her hands braced, silently waited for the whipping to resume.  

Judging by the weakening intensity, it seemed the punishment was nearing its end.  

Whipping was a deeply entrenched tradition in the Bianchi household.  

The day after she rejected her first marriage proposal, Lucia was beaten so severely she thought she might die.  

After enduring similar episodes a few more times, she realized something.  

To survive, she had to avoid receiving proposals altogether.  

So, she began taking drastic measures.  

She once offered to serve chicken dishes to a suitor, only to chop off a model chicken’s neck with a knife right in front of him.  

Another time, she used her inventions to make water in a glass move as if by magic, like a witch.  

Whenever Lucia pulled off such stunts to chill her suitors’ spines, they fled pale-faced and terrified.  

Her parents attributed this to Lucia’s “free-spirited” personality and urged her to become more “ladylike,” but they didn’t suspect anything beyond that.  

However, starting last year, the noticeable decline in the number of suitors made them realize their daughter had lost her “market value.”  

Angered by their own complacency, her parents resumed corporal punishment to “correct” Lucia’s behavior.  

After a few more strikes, Cedro finally threw the hazel branch aside.  

Lucia was thankful that time had weakened her father’s strength, buying her some reprieve.  

She calmly awaited the next step.  

“What’s your problem, driving away perfectly good men again? There aren’t many men left in Bederon now! Do you even know what people are saying about you?”  

Defiant girl.  

Crazy woman.  

Witch.  

“Do you know how hard I worked to convince Mr. Marino to meet you just once?”  

“Indeed.”  

Lucia finally spoke. 

“What kind of person did you make me out to be this time? The granddaughter of Minister Carrozza? A descendant of General Fiore? You change it so often that foolish me can’t keep up with your lies. I know lying to sell goods is your specialty, Father.”  

Cedro’s flushed face turned purple.  

“You damned girl!”  

He grabbed the ashtray from the desk and hurled it with all his might.  

So enraged was he that he forgot his rule about not leaving “blemishes.”  

Lucia deliberately leaned her face into the ashtray’s trajectory.  

Thud.  

The dull sound echoed, and Lucia’s head snapped to the side.  

“Lucia!”  

Marisa screamed.  

Lucia slowly touched her face.  

The ashtray had hit her so hard that her lip split, staining her fingers with blood.  

She could already feel the swelling beginning.  

For now, she wouldn’t have to entertain any suitors.