That she was born illegitimate and lived a life worse than that of commoners.

It might have been a place more agonizing than where she was treated as a nobody in the Duke’s residence for the past year.

However, getting the precise information from her was important.

Whether to find a clue about the illness, or to retaliate against the Harad family.

“Ugh… It’s so difficult to recall the memories.”

Atia took a cold washcloth that was next to her and placed it on her forehead.

It seemed to lower her fever a bit.

“How could there not be a single good memory? It’s like a terrible drama.”

…

…

…

The Atia she recalled seemed to be a person born for misery.

The young maid whom the Count of Harad family, Count Shupen, had touched died while giving birth to Atia.

When Count Shupen heard the news that his daughter was born, his reaction was annoyance.

When he heard the news, all he said was, ‘So?’

And he continued to play mahjong.

A child born into such circumstances would never be treated well in the Harad family.

If it weren’t for the fellow maids who were close to Atia’s mother, she would have died much sooner.

This was a memory based on what others had told her.

And the memories that Atia herself recalled.

Even in those memories, Atia was an outcast.

The wife of Count Shupen, Countess Madrid, who had three sons and two daughters, was full of jealousy and spite.

They were all eager to bring down Atia.

They even hated it when Atia looked at them.

Whenever they encountered Atia within the mansion, they cursed at her.

Therefore, she was an outcast there as well.
Bored, she would command her maid to prick young Atia with a needle.

They would even soap the floor where Atia frequently walked to make her slip.

Not a soul would help the fallen girl; only a crowd laughing at her predicament.

Because of this, Atia suffered for days with a displaced hip bone.

The excuses for such treatment were petty: lack of etiquette, crude walking—trivial reasons, really.

They disliked everything about Atia, from her words to her actions.

Moreover, they had dismissed all the maids who helped Atia from the mansion.

Hence, there were no maids openly available to assist her.

Those who secretly pitied and helped her were also soon fired.

It became known to everyone in the count’s residence that Countess Madrid and her children disliked Atia.

Soon, other servants began to disdain Atia as well.

Speaking well of Atia risked expulsion.

Wherever she went in the mansion, she was pointed at and whispered about; she had nowhere to set foot.

Count Schufen briefly glanced at Atia and said,

“You resemble your mother.”

It took Atia a long time to understand that his words meant, ‘you must be valuable.’

To her, a mother was an unfamiliar existence.

A being of significance, yet unknowable.

The only mother she knew lived in the count’s residence and had a jingling voice, Countess Madrid.

“A weakling from lowly blood, you’re utterly useless.”

“Had it not been for my husband, you wouldn’t have even set foot here!”

“A disgrace to share a roof with such an unsightly wench.”

Countess Madrid had never once spoken a kind word to Atia.

Days she received only scornful glances were considered fortunate.

As a result, the concept of a mother had become rather negative to Atia.

Even though the count’s residence was all she knew, she felt it was hellish.

‘…What am I? What sort of being? Why was I born here? Why does no one like me?’

She would stare blankly into the mirror, asking herself these questions.

She had dark pupils like Count Schufen.

And silver hair found nowhere in the count’s residence.

“Yes, it’s because of my silver hair.”

Her radiant silver hair was what Atia hated most.

They hated her because she was different, she thought.

One day, Atia took scissors and chopped off her own hair.

“It’s all because of this hair… all of it…”

Count Schufen looked down at Atia, who had walked the hallway with her newly cut hair, and sighed.

“Cutting your hair made you even more unremarkable. Best behave from now on.”

All Atia wanted was to be loved.

Living in the count’s residence made her despise herself.

That sentiment persisted until she was sent to the Wellington family, enemies in all but name, for a marriage of convenience.

“…”

Deep in thought, Atia slowly opened her eyes.

There before her was not the detestable Harad family, but the exceedingly handsome Casus.

If heaven could be seen from hell, it would feel like this.

The Harad family may have sent her away for political reasons, but Atia was thankful for meeting this man.

“I may not know the specifics, but it’s clear the Harad family despised me.”

Thus, Atia briefly informed Casus of her past.

…

…

…

“So that’s what you’ve been through.”

Atia looked at Casus, wondering if he misspoke.

His voice had a colder tone.

‘What? I told him because he asked…’

Could it be that he thought Atia was lying?
‘…Hmm, does he still not believe me to this extent…’

I had only shared a few of Atia’s old memories when he started asking all sorts of questions.

Thinking back, since it involved intertwining families, it was necessary to speak carefully.

There was a high possibility that Casus was trying to cloud my judgement by provoking me with trivial sympathy.

“I must be leaving, you must be tired.”

Casus bid his last farewell in a low voice.

Atia looked at Casus closing the door and leaving, then clenched her jaw.

Somehow, his reaction was unsettling.