When I closed my eyes, I could clearly feel that place.

The gentle breeze carried the fresh scent of flowers from the garden, which showcased the mistress’s refined aesthetic taste.

Past the pergola draped with abundant lavender and white wisteria stood a glass greenhouse and pond, said to have been created for the child of the house.

“Pay attention.”

As Genevieve was captivated by the elegant stone mansion, her parents’ stern reprimand echoed in her ears. She could feel their glaring eyes and had no choice but to straighten her back.

“Consider yourself lucky. You’re receiving patronage because that child took a liking to you. Behave properly. You must become whatever she wants—a maid or a servant, anything. Even if she treats you like a toy.”

“Is she calling me to treat me like a toy? But she invited me to attend debate forums and charity galas with her. She even said she’d include me in their family trip to Melberry if Mother and Father allowed it. I’ve never been abroad or even to other regions.”

“Well, I’m certain there must be something wrong with her. She’s probably so frail that she spends all day whining and wants you as a companion. Or perhaps her personality is so peculiar that no one likes her. Imagine seeing you once in the countryside during a recuperation visit and immediately wanting to make you her friend.”

“Why would a grown woman who should just live quietly at home until marriage need a companion relative? I could understand if she were still a child…”

Her mother clicked her tongue disapprovingly, adjusted the worn dress, and knocked on the door.

The door opened as if they had been expected, and the butler greeted them without scrutinizing the family’s shabby appearance, guiding them to the reception room.

A butler…! In her own home, where barely a shadow of their former status remained, there could never be a butler, but here there seemed to be quite a number of servants, making her eyes wander involuntarily.

“Welcome. You must be tired from your long journey.”

The noblewoman who spotted Genevieve rose from the sofa with elegant movements.

Her mother, who usually wore a frown, began waving her only fan in an unseemly manner while making exaggerated gestures.

“We had such a comfortable journey thanks to the carriage you sent. If we had taken a shared carriage, it would have stopped at every region and been filled with all sorts of common folk… Oh my, hohoho. How silly of me. Come, Genevieve. Greet them properly. Hurry!”

Her mother’s touch was rough as she nudged Genevieve with the fan.

Seeing this, the noblewoman’s eyes reflected both a slight flinch and some sympathy for Genevieve.

Feeling embarrassed instead, Genevieve kept her lips tightly sealed.

“Mother! Has Genevieve arrived?”

Just then, a pretty voice called from the second floor.

A warm, refreshing tone.

A pale yellow silk dress reminiscent of a canary briefly flashed like an apparition on the wide spiral staircase.

The hem of the dress brushing against the carpet. Shoes adorned with delicately crafted jewels.

The light footsteps sounded extravagantly wealthy and vanity-inducing to Genevieve, who had learned about the ways of the world early on.

The young lady’s long hair flowed like waves as she moved past the head maid and maid who anxiously worried she might fall.

Smooth hair with a light rose tint…

“Thank you for coming.”

The girl, her only friend and distant relative who had recognized her intelligence despite her pitiful upbringing in the countryside, took her hand.

Her skin was soft and slender, untouched by hardship.

“I should be thanking you. I couldn’t sleep a wink on the way here because I was so excited. I still can’t believe you invited me.”

Genevieve held the girl’s hand as if she would never let go—the hand of a girl who seemed to emit a rich fragrance and radiate light.

Florence Haringham.

That was the child’s name.

From observing her closely, Genevieve realized that Florence Haringham possessed something special that she herself lacked.

“What could it be…?”

Genevieve stared blankly at Florence playing the piano.

In terms of beauty, she far surpassed Florence.

The same was true of her eloquence.

Moreover, Florence always shared everything with Genevieve, giving her half unconditionally, or if that wasn’t possible, yielding entirely to her. Surely, Genevieve must have been more sophisticated in her adornments.

‘Yet all the people who approach me are dissolute and lewd, leaving me unsatisfied, while the families and men who come with marriage proposals for Florence are all quite decent?’

Genevieve grew increasingly impatient.

If Florence ever truly married, the Haringham family, who had shown the generosity to educate her and accompany her in social circles, would have no reason to continue supporting her.

Contrary to her initial expectations when first coming to this house, Florence, though weak, was neither sickly enough to neglect her education or unable to make friends, nor did she have any hidden disability.

The Haringham mother and daughter had simply rented a large mansion in the countryside for recuperation and rest. Florence, who saw the world only through beautiful eyes, had felt sympathy for Genevieve after meeting her cousin who had come to pay respects and learning they were the same age. She had then suggested to her mother that they should sponsor her as a relative—that was all.

“Isn’t that a gift Florence hasn’t opened yet? It’s best to keep your own belongings safe and not touch what belongs to others, Genevieve.”

However, Mrs. Agatha Haringham, Florence’s mother and the widow of the Haringham family who had lost her husband early, occasionally looked at her with discomfort.

Florence often received precious gifts from various families who all “adored” and sought to “protect” her regardless of their status. Genevieve had been caught several times by the servants secretly trying on these items in front of the mirror, pretending to be a noble lady.

Being a cultured woman, Agatha would subtly warn Genevieve after receiving such reports but had never expressed her feelings about Genevieve to outsiders. Probably.

“Florence, may I play for you?”

When Genevieve approached the piano and spoke kindly, Florence nodded willingly.

“For me? Thank you.”

Stupid Florence.

Well, Florence’s piano playing was decent enough.

But she couldn’t match Genevieve’s flashy techniques. Nevertheless, people often asked Florence to play.

Why was that? Why did people prefer Florence over her, despite her superior beauty and intelligence? Just because Florence’s family was wealthy?

If so, couldn’t that problem be solved in an instant if she found a rich man with a high title?

“Madam is looking for you, Miss.”

The head maid, who glanced at Genevieve playing the piano, whispered in Florence’s ear.

That cursed head maid was clearly trying to take Florence away without her.

Genevieve deliberately stood up from her chair, making the head maid pause and look at her.

“Genevieve, would you like to have tea? It seems we have a guest.”

Florence, seeing her, smiled brightly and asked if she would join her for tea.

“Of course.”

Did they think they could share everything with me but exclude me from such gatherings?

Genevieve quickly glared at the head maid before linking arms with Florence and smiling brightly.

“My mother sends her regards. My father still—rather, continues to miss his departed friend deeply.”

The refined voice coming from the reception room belonged to a stranger she had never heard before.

When Genevieve, practically dragging Florence along, quickly entered the reception room, the man conversing with Mrs. Haringham turned to look at them.

At that moment, the man’s eyes widened considerably.

“……”

Simultaneously, Genevieve stared at him, unable to even breathe.

She could tell at a glance. This man was the perfect nobleman she had been waiting for!

Just then, Mrs. Agatha approached them, blocking her view.

“Florence, Mrs. Karen is wondering if she might gift you one of her cherished pianos. She’s been feeling quite lonely since her daughter married recently, and she says your performance that day brought her great comfort.”

After calmly explaining, the lady turned to the person beside her and continued.

“Oh yes, this is Mrs. Karen’s son. Haven’t you met him before? Mrs. Karen, who was supposed to join us for tea today, couldn’t come due to a cold and sent him instead. What a happy coincidence, as he’s just returned from a long journey.”

Mrs. Karen? The image of that countess draped in expensive things from head to toe flashed in her mind.

It seemed strange indeed. At the time, Genevieve had also performed at Florence’s encouragement, so why would she offer that magnificent piano only to Florence?

Could it be that Agatha Haringham had told the countess that Florence had spoken ill of her vulgar parents, or that Genevieve secretly felt inferior to Florence?

Yes, that must have been it.

She recalled the appearance of that woman, whose family was certainly twice as wealthy as the Haringham household, perhaps even more so.

Moreover, that man possessed both refined dignity and exceptional looks that could make anyone fall in love.

“Go and greet him.”

No! That man saw me!

Genevieve quickly unlinked her arm and took a step sideways to meet the man’s eyes before Florence could, but her expression froze instantly.

“!”

She had thought he had stood up after seeing her, but looking again, the man was staring not at her but at Florence.

Seeing the man’s slightly reddened earlobes as he approached with his gaze fixed on Florence, Genevieve pressed hard under her fingernails, unable to accept the reality despite possessing beauty superior to Florence’s.

Had Mrs. Haringham and Mrs. Karen conspired for this moment?

But that man looked entranced by Florence, as if accepting a natural order.

Why…? When she was so beautiful and sensual! When she was brilliant and eloquent! When she was even wearing the fine dress Florence had given up for her!

How could he fall for this clueless girl who knew nothing of the world and who cared for her like a sister without even realizing how she viewed her?

When Mrs. Karen’s son greeted Florence respectfully, innocent Florence responded with her usual smile and a slight nod.

“Pleased to meet you. I am Maximus Greatroyson.”

Her heart sank.

This man should have been hers.

Her chest pounded at the noble family name that gently brushed against the tip of her tongue and palate.

“He is a viscount,” Mrs. Haringham said, gently revealing his title with a warm look.

Florence gazed at the man with her always lovely eyes and her bright smile—the same smile she would have shown whether he was a viscount or a commoner.

“Hello, Viscount Greatroyson. How kind of you to come. Is Mrs. Karen all right?”

The man stared at her intently before smiling with seemingly honest eyes.

“She will recover quickly thanks to your concern, Miss Florence.”

In that moment, Genevieve, feeling like an invisible person, understood.

She finally knew the difference between herself and Florence that she had so desperately wanted to identify.

“Let me introduce my friend to you.”

It was an innate grace beyond beauty.

The innocence unique to someone raised with consistent love in an abundant environment, the generosity to consider others, and the dignified attitude of someone who had never experienced jealousy or hatred in their entire life.

Just then, Florence, being perceptive, took her hand and introduced her to Viscount Greatroyson.

“This is Genevieve, my relative and a truly wonderful friend who always makes me laugh.”

Only then did the man’s gaze fall upon her.

As their eyes met, the man’s teal eyes captured her swiftly, like lightning striking.

“Hello, Viscount Maximus Greatroyson.”

Florence. You have everything.

You have so much—more than enough to give me anything without reservation.

So you should give this man to me.

Not just giving me your leftovers like charity. Hand over something truly precious to you.

If you truly care for me and consider me a friend, you must help this man and me be together.

Feeling Agatha Haringham’s watchful eyes on her, she forcibly plastered a smile on her face that had nearly frozen.

Perhaps that day was the starting point that led her to commit arson at the Haringham mansion?

Yes, Agatha Haringham had deserved to die.

She flashed an alluring smile at Maximus Greatroyson before her.

“I am Genevieve Molnberry.”