It was 2 years ago, when Ibi was slowly making her way into Tienda’s social circles.

At that time, Ibi was tense every day, walking on thin ice, trying to adapt to the unfamiliar environment and not get caught by the picky nobles.

Then one day, an unexpected crisis came.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Ariate. This is our first time meeting like this.”

That crisis was the appearance of the Saint, Roble Tuha, who approached pretending to be benevolent in front of the nobles.

Ibi had heard that the Saint rarely participated in social activities. So she thought there was no chance of running into her at social gatherings, but that day she was unlucky and ended up meeting the Saint.

Upon seeing the Saint, Ibi almost lost her kind expression.

“…It is an honor to meet you, Saint.”

“Don’t be so formal. We’re family from the Tower, aren’t we?”

When Ibi greeted her while trying hard to hide her emotions, the Saint responded in an affectionate voice.

So Ibi was truly amazed.

Though it was 3 years ago, Ibi vividly remembered.

The way that woman looked down at her in the Tower’s basement, the cold gaze that swept over her without a hint of emotion while standing next to the Tower Master.

But now she approaches first and speaks, and even calls them Tower family. I suppose you need that level of shamelessness to become a Saint.

As Ibi was thinking this and secretly wary of the Saint, the Saint spoke again.

“I’m holding onto something you dropped, Miss Ariate.”

“Something I dropped?”

“The ribbon you threw from the Tower. Don’t you remember?”

At the Saint’s question, Ibi smiled awkwardly with embarrassment.

“I’d like to return it to Miss Ariate, how should I do that?”

Ibi looked at the veiled Saint with an indescribable feeling.

The Saint must know full well that ribbon was used as a restraint in the basement. Yet she’s saying she wants to return it in front of everyone.

To Ibi, this felt like a check or pressure from the Saint. As if saying, I know your wretched state, so don’t act recklessly.

“Thank you, Saint. I’ll come visit you soon.”

Ibi wanted to tell her to just burn or throw it away, but she reluctantly answered politely.

The Saint seemed satisfied and smiled, and Ibi hurriedly turned away from that unsettling woman.

Of course, she didn’t keep the promise to visit soon. She completely forgot about the ribbon’s existence.

This was when Ibi had just entered social circles, and when Roble Tuha started wearing a veil.

.

.

.

For this reason, Ibi thought the Saint was the one who cursed her.

But if not, if the Saint was innocent as the Count said, she couldn’t think of anyone else at the moment.

‘Unless it’s really someone from a different time…’

Ibi sighed with complicated feelings. Then she picked up the clothes that the damn Miel had kicked away one by one.

‘I need to confirm properly with the Count.’

That comes first. And if this bewildering guess turns out to be true, then…

‘…How should I take it then?’

Ibi threw the clothes she had picked up onto the bed in exasperation. Then she flopped down next to them.

The hypothesis that both the Count and the astrologer might be Sion Laurel made Ibi feel helpless and resentful. It felt like being thrown alone into severe cold.

The astrologer had deliberately taken in and cared for Ibi, who could have endured neglect and mistreatment. After making Ibi weak like that, he suddenly left when she relied on him most.

Ibi couldn’t hate or forgive such an astrologer, so she decided to just forget. She concluded that he was an irresponsible person who left, separate from her gratitude for his care.

So she urged herself that there was no need to search for him anymore. With that, she barely shook off her lingering attachment to him.

‘But now what…’

When she desperately searched, there wasn’t a trace, but now what is she supposed to do?

Ibi’s heart stirred once again. She herself couldn’t define what emotion was filling her inside right now.

She couldn’t define it as just one thing – whether it was joy, sadness, longing, or resentment. Perhaps it was a jumble of various emotions tangled together.

The only thing certain was that she didn’t want to go back to the days of living with him.

“I want to become a difficult person.”

“You know, like the people living in Tienda.”

Ibi suddenly recalled. The words she had said to the astrologer when she was young.

Wanting to become a difficult person was a dream Ibi had even before meeting the astrologer.

Before meeting him, the world was harsh to Ibi. So Ibi had to pour her all into just surviving each day.

But on one day when it was so hard that everything seemed dark, she suddenly realized.

That this world is not equally harsh to everyone.

That while I steal a piece of bread and run until I taste blood in my throat, there are people who leisurely eat prepared meals.

Unlike me who uses up a day’s energy for just one meal and still goes hungry again, there are many people who can satisfy their hunger just by sitting at the table.

When she first learned this, Ibi was deeply relieved by the fact that she was especially miserable compared to others.

Ah, so this isn’t normal. There is a way out.

Young Ibi found great comfort in the fact that this world wasn’t quite as bad as she thought.

After that, she understood. The reason why the world was especially harsh to her. That it was because she was especially easy.

The world was much more fair than Ibi thought, giving an easy path to the strong and difficult, and a rough path to the weak and easy. Like giving rewards to those with excellent qualifications, and punishments to those who don’t.

Learning this simple truth, Ibi came to yearn.

To someday become a difficult person herself.

To become strong enough that the world can’t torment her.

So that she could be a little more comfortable.

This was a solemn ambition that Ibi cherished and kept inside.

But one day, Ibi confessed this to the astrologer who appeared and stole her heart. She even forgot about it for a while. She didn’t even want it anymore while living with him.

She was so happy being with him that she forgot even the reason why she needed to become a difficult person.

The responsibility for that complacency fell entirely on Ibi after the astrologer left.

Ibi didn’t want to part with the astrologer. But she couldn’t hold onto him with her powerless hands. She couldn’t stop him or confine him, or solve the reason why he had to leave first. She couldn’t even find traces of him.

All Ibi, who was still not difficult enough, could do was suffer from his empty spaces left in every place, and helplessly watch her comfortable world crumble.

It was the end of someone who forgot their powerlessness and settled for the kindness of others.

So Ibi longed for, but did not wish for it. To return to those gentle days.

He saved Ibi. But it wasn’t a perfect salvation. His salvation was temporary, one-sided, and cruel.

Because it was received without reason, it was a truly tricky thing that could be taken away without reason and nothing could be done about it.

So Ibi wishes again. To truly become a difficult person now. Because that alone will be the perfect salvation to protect me.

‘Yes, so it doesn’t matter. Whoever the Count is.’

Ibi steeled her heart while looking at the white ceiling.

Ibi Ariate, with her thoroughly calculating personality, did not neglect to calculate even in the midst of confusion.

So of course she did the math. If the uncle is Sion Laurel, if there is something very special between me and Sion Laurel, wouldn’t it be okay to let the Count know about this situation of being threatened by the Tower Master?

Then maybe I could get help from the Count…

Ibi briefly held such expectations, but soon shook her head.

Not only is Rohika Sedro unlikely to let her go easily, relying on the Count is the same as going back to the days of depending on the astrologer.

The Count might take proper care of her this time, as he first proposed. But he might not.

So it’s better not to expect. I’m done with entrusting my fate to others and worrying about when they’ll abandon me, when I’ll fall.

So it doesn’t matter either way. No matter who the astrologer is, no matter what the truth is, nothing will change.

What Ibi wishes for, what she must wish for, is to become a difficult person herself, only that.

Ibi locked away her scattered heart firmly, thinking this.

But as soon as she concluded that, Ibi ended up throwing the clothes beside her high up to the ceiling.

Because she suddenly recalled a conversation from a few days ago.

“It’s pathetic.”

“Because I was thinking of marriage.”

Remembering what she had said to the Count, Ibi rolled on the bed. Then she covered her mouth and writhed to hold back a scream.

In fact, it’s not irrelevant.

Ibi was more intensely shaken than ever before.

“On the day of the fire at the mansion, Duke Hesta’s servants brought out clothes that smelled of burning.”

“A large amount of oil disappeared without a trace from Duke Hesta’s mansion warehouse.”

“Duke Hesta’s son is a close friend of Marquis Montra.”

The sisters underground found the culprit who set fire to the mansion in just one day. It was Marquis Montra’s doing, as Ibi had suspected.

But even if they caught the tail, there was nothing Ibi could do.

The Tower only protected Ibi’s body, not her property.

For a crime of this level, a trial could be held, but only nobles could receive the judgment of the righteous Grand Duke Laurel, so this too was useless.

She couldn’t appeal to the nobles about this unjust violence either. The nobles’ gaze towards Ibi now was infinitely cold.

“Ariate’s two faces are chilling,” many gossips making a fuss.

“A detestable and greedy commoner woman dared to deceive and insult nobles,” many fools flaunting their victim mentality.

“Ariate tracking nobles is an unforgivable act of treason that must be punished,” many idiots feeling guilty.

Thus, the atmosphere in Tienda was more aggressive towards Ibi than ever before.

They seemed to consider Marquis Montra’s betrayal of Ibi as ‘a bit too much,’ but Ibi’s counterattack against the Marquis as ‘deserving death.’

She felt slightly disillusioned, but it was already expected.

So Ibi moved quickly as well.

“Thank you for making time.”

“There’s nothing to thank.”

Though Ibi greeted politely, that noble buried in the sofa didn’t even glance at her.

“Rather than gratitude, you should be sorry. The elder council meeting was interrupted because you begged to meet,”

He said this in an aged voice with his eyes closed.

“Because of you, over a hundred Bayen elders and ten times as many vassals are waiting for me. So you better have a story worth that much value.”

The old man speaking arrogantly in an elegant voice was the master of Great Bayen.

He was Duke Iel Bayen, a great noble.