Chapter 1.14

Valentine shook his head, his expression showing disapproval.  

Then, he reached out and plucked the tulip from behind Liz’s ear.  

The red flower fell onto the table.  

With it, Liz’s heart dropped as well.  

“This suits you better.”  

Liz stared at the flower lying on the crumpled tablecloth.  

He was right. Liz Garrett belonged there, among the wrinkled tablecloths and discarded flowers.  

She knew that. But.  

“Was it really necessary to say that?”  

Overcome with emotion, Liz lifted her head.  

Valentine was looking at the fragile yet upright green stem that had been behind her ear.  

He asked, his expression puzzled.  

“What do you mean? I….”  

At that moment, someone emerged from the mansion.  

It was Count Myra.  

“Madam!”  

Liz quickly removed the unsightly stem from behind her ear and stood up.  

Valentine approached Myra and asked.  

“Are you feeling better, Count?”  

“Thanks to you, much better. Now I must return and rest further.”  

Count Myra spoke sarcastically before turning to Liz.  

“I’ve called for a carriage. Follow me, Liz.”  

Myra strode off ahead.  

As Liz hesitated, Valentine spoke.  

“What will you do?”  

Valentine gracefully extended his hand. It was time to choose.  

“I….”  

Liz bit her lip.  

If she followed Myra now, this would never happen again—no beautiful dresses, no taste of unfamiliar wine. It would all vanish like a fleeting dream.  

Conversely, if she wished to stay here, Valentine would make it happen by any means necessary.  

That was the kind of man Winchester was.  

But Liz lowered her gaze.  

Beside her blue shoes lay the green stem of the flower, its bud torn off.  

That stem had just been behind her ear.  

It reminded her of a toy—or perhaps something even less than that, a reflection of her own situation.  

Liz quietly raised her eyes to meet Valentine’s.  

“Goodbye, Duke Valentine Winchester. I’ll return the clothes and jewelry by courier.”  

Liz bowed politely and turned away.  

Valentine said nothing.  

He neither got angry nor tried to stop her. He didn’t even bid her farewell.  

Perhaps it was only natural.  

‘I’m no longer of any use.’  

Liz absently fiddled with her hair.  

The brown strands draped over her shoulders were utterly ordinary.  

The festival was over. It was time to wake up from the dream.  

Liz climbed into the carriage following Myra. However, Myra stopped her.  

“That carriage is yours. I need to rest alone.”  

Myra pointed to a small luggage cart.  

Though Myra usually traveled with an attendant, it wasn’t uncommon for nobles to ride alone.  

It wasn’t particularly strange.  

“Yes, I understand.”  

Without suspicion, Liz climbed into the small carriage.  

Soon, it began to move.  

Valentine watched the carriage until it disappeared from sight.  

His aide, Gerald, cautiously approached him.  

“Your Grace, then shall we…?”  

“Prepare the fastest horse.”  

“Pardon?”  

Valentine strode toward the armory.  

Startled, Gerald followed him.  

“Your Grace, what do you mean by that?”  

Gerald signaled to another servant, who ran toward the stables.  

Valentine took a rifle with a scope from the armory.  

“The festival isn’t over yet, Gerald.”  

***

Liz sat quietly in the luggage cart, gazing out the window.  

Through the carriage window, fragments of the dark night sky passed by, accompanied by the sound of hooves.  

Each time light reflected off the glass, Liz’s reflection appeared.  

Amid the shabby cargo filling the cart, her fine silk dress and jewelry sparkled like an illusion.  

Liz looked down at her feet.  

The blue shoes, which had dangled all day, now fit snugly against her swollen feet.  

‘Does this mean that to fit into these shoes, one must endure such pain?’  

Her mouth tasted bitter. Foolish thoughts filled Liz’s mind.  

‘What if.’  

What if Liz had truly been Isabel?  

She would have walked gracefully into the hall, exchanged vows with Valentine Winchester,   and greeted the banquet guests with poise once the ceremony ended.  

By now, she would be soaking in a flower-strewn bath.  

Still, such fantasies didn’t sadden Liz too much.  

They were ordinary dreams anyone might have.  

If she worked hard, Liz thought she could someday have a piece of that dream.  

What truly troubled Liz was something else.  

“Do you often raise your hands on your daughter?”  

The hand that had stopped Myra’s violence.  

“Shall we, Madame?”  

The hand that had led Liz forward.  

“What will you do?”  

The elegant hand Valentine Winchester had extended to her lingered in Liz’s mind.  

That was the one thing Liz could never, ever have.  

‘Get a grip. This is absurd.’  

Liz shook her head forcefully, trying to dispel her thoughts.  

Taking his hand and living Isabel Winchester’s life for a moment might bring fleeting happiness.  

But the shadow behind that light would make the real Liz Garrett feel even more wretched.  

Liz didn’t want to lose herself by living as someone else.  

Instead, she decided to think of good things—familiar, warm things.  

She would return to Myra and reunite with her colleagues.  

With Winchester’s letter of recommendation, she might find a better job.  

Perhaps she could write a letter to her friend Theodore, whose eyes resembled the night sky.  

As Liz thought of these things, she pressed her reddening eyes with her fists.  

“Haaah….”  

When Liz finally calmed herself and looked up, the carriage was traveling down an unfamiliar forest path.  

‘Was this the way to Myra’s estate…?’

Liz felt something was off.  

Could the coachman have taken the wrong path?  

Liz cautiously asked the coachman.  

“Um… is this the right way?”  

The coachman spat harshly, “Ptooey.”  

Startled, Liz quickly apologized.  

“Oh, I’m sorry if I was being nosy….”  

“What’s there to fuss about when you’re headed to the underworld?”  

“What? What do you mean?”  

Surely she must have misheard.  

Liz questioned him again, doubting her ears.  

But the coachman replied indifferently.  

“Don’t blame me too much; it’s not like I enjoy doing this.”  

The coachman shouted, “Hyah!” and swung his whip.  

The sudden acceleration startled Liz, who shouted at him.  

“What are you doing?!”  

The coachman whistled sharply.  

“What do you think? I’m taking you to get your neck sliced.”  

The horses galloped madly into the deserted forest.  

It was then that Liz realized why Count Myra had taken a different carriage.  

Myra had planned to silence Liz permanently by killing her.  

Liz was dumbstruck.  

“How could he…? Let me out! Somebody help!”  

The coachman laughed cruelly and sped up.  

The luggage inside the carriage shook violently.  

‘I need to get out.’  

Liz bit her lip tightly and pulled on the door handle of the carriage.  

But the door wouldn’t budge; it seemed to have been locked from the outside.  

‘This can’t be happening….’  

Liz anxiously bit her lip and looked around.  

There was nothing she could use as a weapon.  

After hesitating briefly, Liz staggered to her feet and threw herself against the carriage door.  

Bang! The door shook, and the glass cracked.  

“Stop messing around!”  

The wildly galloping carriage came to a sudden halt.  

‘One more time!’  

Liz hurled herself at the door again.  

But the coachman was quicker, climbing into the carriage.  

“Ahhh!”  

The coachman grabbed Liz’s arm roughly.  

Losing her balance, Liz stumbled and fell onto the floor of the carriage.  

“Stay still!”  

“Let me go! Let me go!”  

Liz struggled desperately.  

Her thrashing caused the piled luggage to tumble onto the coachman.  

As he staggered, Liz’s kick landed squarely on his jaw.  

“Argh, you little brat!”  

Liz scrambled toward the driver’s seat.  

Riding the horse would be ideal, but untying the horse from the carriage might give the coachman time to catch her again.  

Without hesitation, Liz jumped out of the carriage.  

“You—stop right there!”  

The coachman shouted.  

But Liz didn’t look back and ran into the forest.  

“Huff, huff! Is anyone there? Help!”  

But the elegant shoes and dress she wore only hindered her escape.  

Her shoes slipped off her feet.  

“Ouch…!”  

Liz twisted her ankle.  

Pain flashed white before her eyes.  

“Where do you think you’re going!”  

The coachman, who had caught up to her, grabbed her by the scruff of her neck.  

“Ahhh!” 

Liz fell to the ground.  

The coachman pinned her down, his weight making it hard to breathe.  

“Let me go! Get off me!”  

Liz grabbed a stone and struck the coachman repeatedly.  

But this time, he was prepared.  

“Stop struggling!”  

The coachman tied Liz’s arms tightly with rope.  

Then he stuffed a cloth into her mouth to stop her from biting him.  

“Mmph! Mm!”  

After a long struggle, the coachman finally subdued Liz.  

He wiped the sweat from his thick arms and looked down at her.  

“Whew, you sure are a handful….”  

Liz glared at him defiantly, her breath coming in ragged gasps.  

But her defiance only made things worse.  

The coachman’s gaze grew increasingly lecherous.  

“Hm… you’re quite pretty, now that I look at you.”  

The coachman swallowed hard, his eyes trailing over Liz’s face, exposed neck, and chest.  

“Well, since you’re going to die anyway, why not have a little fun first?”  

The coachman smirked wickedly.  

Liz shook her head violently in horror.  

“Mmph! Mm!”  

She swung her bound arms, but it was futile.  

The coachman tore the front of her dress with a loud rip.  

Liz screamed through the cloth in her mouth.