AWLITEB Chapter 1

Prologue

"You demon b*tch!"

A dark, damp underground dungeon.

Rosalie knelt in that mold-infested place, veins bulging as she screamed.

Isabella stood upright, looking down at Rosalie, her expression unchanged.

She simply surveyed Rosalie's filthy dress, tangled hair, and face smeared with dust and dried blood with detached interest. Like someone cataloging damage.

"You'll die and go to hell! No one will mourn your death! They'll thank God in relief that the demon's breath has finally been cut off!"

Rosalie trembled all over, shrieking.

At that shrill voice echoing through the dungeon, Isabella's eyebrow twitched slightly.

"Rosalie. How can you say such terrible things to your sister?"

"Evil b*tch!"

Rosalie bared her teeth like a hunting dog and lunged at Isabella.

But the iron shackles connecting her wrists and ankles to the wall jerked her back, and Rosalie simply fell backwards.

"Go to hell, you wicked thing!"

Isabella let out a hollow laugh as she listened to Rosalie's relentless curses. Then she slowly knelt down on one knee.

With their eyes meeting up close, the hatred, rage, and shattered pride in Rosalie's eyes became more vivid.

It made Isabella happy.

"How is it, Rosalie? How does it feel to be locked in this stinking underground room with no promise of release?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Why am I locked up here, why! Don't you dare look at me with those eyes! Die. Just die, Isabella!"

Rosalie shook her restrained body, thrashing about.

It was a magnificent scene, too good to keep to herself.

Ah, if only she could remember this moment forever.

Isabella took a deep breath, trying to etch this moment into her mind through scent alone.

The familiar smell of mold stimulated her senses.

Isabella parted her pretty lips and smiled charmingly.

Having inhaled enough air to her satisfaction, she brought her hand to Rosalie's cheek.

Rosalie squeezed her eyes shut, expecting to be struck, but Isabella merely stroked her face gently.

Then she whispered softly.

"I'm truly sorry, Rose."

"......"

"I came from hell."

Rosalie's face slowly filled with terror.

"Would I fear going to hell?"

A beautiful killing intent shone over Isabella's face.

And blood-red magic bloomed over her palm.

"Ahhhhhhh!"

Rosalie screamed, drenched in fear, her body trembling.

Isabella only smiled wider, as if Rosalie's terror amused her.

In this moment, there was nothing that could dare stop Isabella.

Chapter 1

The hour when the sunset fades.

Maid Gina stood in front of the basement entrance, sighing repeatedly with a plate in her hands.

"Ah, shit. Why did I have to lose at rock-paper-scissors!"

She stamped her foot once—thud—then reluctantly descended the stairs step by step.

The closer she got to the basement, the more the pungent smell of mold made her stomach queasy.

On top of that, candles were placed sparsely, making it hard to see the ground beneath her feet.

"Should've brought a candlestick at least."

Coming to the basement was so dreadful she hadn't thought that far ahead.

Gina barely managed to take one step at a time, then missed her footing on the last step and fell to the floor.

"Ah!"

Gina rubbed her knee where she'd bumped it hard—thunk—and grimaced.

Even the chicken neck and potato pieces on the plate had disappeared somewhere.

"Just my luck..."

Gina groped around the dark floor, barely managing to pick up the food and put it back on the plate.

Probably covered in filthy dust and sticky mud now, but it didn't matter. She wasn't the one who'd be eating it.

A moment later, Gina arrived in front of a small room deep in the basement and knocked.

Tap, tap.

"Miss Isabella."

No sound came from inside the room.

Not expecting an answer in the first place, Gina opened the door with a key.

Then she looked inside the small room with her face scrunched up as much as possible.

The room was packed with mold and dampness, with only a thumb-sized candle providing light, leaving everything dim and gloomy.

In the corner of that miserable room was Isabella White.

Reading a book by candlelight, Isabella looked like a lump of garbage abandoned on the roadside.

Her hair, red as a blazing sun, was filthy as if it had fallen into a dust pit, cascading down past her shoulders without having been brushed even once.

Through the dirty hair, a gaunt, dirt-stained face was visible.

Even the beggars wandering the streets weren't as bad as her. At least they used the free bathing services provided by the country.

Her dress was beyond description. Torn and patched everywhere, it was nothing but rags.

The saying "getting worse and worse" must have originated from her appearance.

The dress was torn so badly that her petticoat was clearly visible, completely failing to serve its function.

Moreover, the feet sticking out from under the skirt were bare. Those bare feet, not covered even by scraps of cloth, were covered in wounds and had thicker calluses than the maids'.

"Good evening. I've brought your dinner."

Gina approached without even looking at Isabella and spoke.

She set the plate down on an old table broken in several places, then wiped her hands briskly on her apron.

"Did you draw the short straw today?"

Isabella asked in her usual cracked voice. Because the amount of water provided was pathetically small.

At that creepy voice, like fingernails scraping glass, Gina felt irritated for no reason.

"Yes, Miss."

"Sorry about that."

"Just eat and leave it outside the door when you're done."

"Okay. Thanks."

Gina walked quickly out of the small room as if fleeing danger. Soon the sound of the door being locked followed.

Isabella took her seat at the table with practiced ease.

She clasped her hands together and offered a reverent prayer before meals, then picked up her fork.

On the plate were a few rough potato pieces and a chicken neck, even those covered in black foreign matter as if they'd been rolling around somewhere.

Isabella blew on them—huff, huff—to clean off as much of the debris as possible, expression unchanging, then began eating.

In fewer than five stabs of the fork, all the food on the plate had disappeared.

Isabella stabbed at the chicken neck a few more times regretfully, then set down her fork.

"Thank you for the meal."

Whether she'd really eaten well—or eaten anything at all—was questionable, but regardless, Isabella finished her meal with a reverent thanks.

Isabella stared at the empty plate for a long moment with unreadable eyes, then rose from her seat.

She was going to push the plate out through the small hole under the door.

But before she could extend her hand through the hole, the sound of a lock being opened came again and the door opened.

Creeeak...

Isabella found herself face to face with Rosalie, her sister, standing in the doorway.

Rosalie was a woman with the same red hair and amber eyes as Isabella.

But unlike Isabella, she was completely refined and clean, and the dress and accessories she wore were all tremendously expensive.

Moreover, unlike Isabella's forlorn and pitiful appearance, Rosalie had the face of the perfect wealthy noble family daughter.

A lovely, bright, warm atmosphere overflowed throughout her entire appearance.

Of course, the look in her eyes as she stared at Isabella was as cold as any demon could muster.

"Rosalie."

Isabella looked at Rosalie with a bewildered expression.

Rosalie surveyed Isabella from top to bottom with a disgusted look.

As if she'd been about to knock, Rosalie's hand was wrapped in a handkerchief. Too squeamish to touch the door with her bare hand, apparently.

"Rosalie, it's been a while. How have you been?"

They lived in the same mansion, but these were sisters meeting after exactly 33 days.

Rosalie shook her head at Isabella with a displeased face.

"If you have time to ask after my well-being, why don't you take a bath?"

"Ah, sorry. Do I smell?"

Isabella stepped back from Rosalie with a flustered face.

"Your room doesn't even have a place to wash?"

"Ah, no. There's a small bath."

Isabella pointed inside the room.

There was a wooden tub covered in what might be mold or something else.

Rosalie bit her lip as if nauseated.

"But the amount of water I can use per day is limited, so I can't wash often..."

"Did I ask because I don't know that?"

At Rosalie's irritation, Isabella immediately shut her mouth and watched Rosalie's mood.

"Come down."

Rosalie turned around and spoke elegantly.

At her command, several maids descended the basement stairs and stood in front of the door. They all expressed with their entire faces that they were only here because of Rosalie's order.

In the maids' hands were a dress, petticoat, hair ornaments, soap, and other items.

"My fiancé will be stopping by briefly today. We'll have tea and talk."

"Your fiancé, you mean..."

"That's right. I mean His Grace, Grand Duke Genos Perdian."

Rosalie answered eagerly.

She was someone desperate to let everyone know that her fiancé was Genos Perdian, the emperor's brother and Grand Duke of the Empire.

She already had an expression of ecstatic delight as she clasped her hands together.

"It's been quite a while since we've seen each other. He's been busy helping His Majesty oversee state affairs. He even went out to minor battles at the border. Even today, he's making time with great difficulty to come."

"I see. How nice."

"Are you mocking me right now?"

When Rosalie's expression hardened and she asked coldly, Isabella quickly waved both hands.

"Ah, no. How could I mock you?"

Rosalie glared at Isabella as if displeased, but she didn't have time to scold her right now.

"Hurry up and wash and change clothes. So you don't tarnish the family name."

"Me, too?"

"His Grace knows I have an older brother and younger sister, so I can't have tea time with you conspicuously absent, can I?"

"Ah..."

"Don't just stand there stupidly, hurry up and wash first. What are you all doing, do I have to do it?"

Rosalie pushed Isabella's back with her handkerchief-wrapped hand as she spoke to the maids.

The maids whispered among themselves for a moment, then Gina and Emma entered Isabella's small room with crumpled expressions.

Apparently Gina and Emma had been chosen for the most unwanted task of bathing duty.

"Just make her clean. If you try too hard to make her beautiful, you'll run out of time."

Rosalie spoke with her arms crossed, then disappeared up the stairs haughtily.

She was also planning to change into a more splendid and luxurious dress and touch up her makeup before her fiancé arrived.

"Ah, it's hot."

Isabella, seated in the tub, spoke in confusion. Steam was rising from the water being poured over her shoulders.

"Just bear with it a little. We don't have time to let it cool."

Emma replied indifferently and continued pouring water over her body.

Isabella's body was turning red and raw, but no one cared about that.

Isabella only frowned slightly and let them do as they pleased. If she didn't, these were maids who would pour ice water over her, claiming to cool it down for her.

"I think the smell's gone. Let's call it good enough."

Gina said to Emma. She looked irritated at having come down to the basement twice in one day, on top of bringing food earlier.

When the bath ended, Isabella glanced at Gina and Emma's mood and climbed out of the tub on her own.

It was embarrassing to stand naked in front of the two, but Gina and Emma, far from hurrying to cover Isabella's body, just tossed her an old towel.

"Dry yourself."

Isabella carefully watched her footing on the slippery floor with no one to hold her hand and dried herself alone.

Over her body without a stitch of clothing, the maids' gazes poured down.

'What a scrawny body.'

'And this thing calls itself nobility.'

All their eyes said as much.

After drying off somewhat, other maids approached and began dressing Isabella.

"Urgh."

Isabella squeezed her eyes shut as the corset clung tightly to her body.

But the maids, who couldn't care less about her pain, simply tightened the corset strings, compressing her chest and abdomen further.

"Hey, girls. Wait a moment."

"Bear with it. We don't have time."

Emma replied indifferently and finished tightening the corset.

Isabella opened her mouth in dismay, but the maids weren't even looking at her face.

"This dress?"

"Looks too fancy. Let's use this one. If Isabella somehow stands out, we're dead."

"Miss Isabella?"

When Gina snorted, Isabella shrank.

"You never know. Better safe than sorry."

At another maid's explanation, Gina shrugged as if she had no choice.

Isabella ended up wearing a plain, boring pale purple dress with not even a single line of lace, though it cost quite a bit thanks to the brand name. Even the skirt hem was in an outdated, narrow style.

The kind of thing worn mainly by elderly, sickly ladies who didn't want to attract attention, rather than young maidens.

"Is this hairstyle enough?"

Gina asked.

Emma examined Isabella's face rudely and nodded.

The hairstyle, simply tied in one place below the ear, was as simple and plain as the dress.

Since Rosalie had firmly stated she would wear her hair in big waves flowing down beautifully, Isabella couldn't let down a single strand of hair.

"We're done. Let's go."

Isabella silently followed the maids up the stairs.

Then Isabella's body suddenly swayed, and she grabbed Emma's skirt in front of her.

"Oh my!"

Emma screamed in surprise and dropped the jewelry box she was holding.

Neither of them fell, but the jewelry spilled out.

"What are you doing!"

Emma shouted angrily.

Isabella shrank back, and the maids cursed openly, saying she couldn't even climb stairs now, as they put the jewelry back in the box.

Then Isabella noticed a small brooch that had fallen at her feet.

A butterfly-shaped brooch, a shabby thing Rosalie wouldn't even glance at.

Isabella carefully picked it up and tried pinning it to her chest.

The shabby brooch made a reasonably nice harmony with the plain dress.

The maids, busy quickly organizing the jewelry, didn't see this.

When Isabella emerged from the basement and stood in front of the drawing room, a maid opened the door for her.

Isabella flinched greatly, having almost opened the door herself out of habit.

"You're here?"

Baroness Martha, who had been checking every angle of the teacups, looked at Isabella and spoke.

The Baroness, like Isabella and Rosalie, had red hair and amber eyes—a woman of considerable beauty. Like Rosalie, leisure and elegance overflowed in her every movement.

The White family had long made efforts to preserve their red hair and amber eyes—even though most families no longer did this—and even when choosing marriage partners, they always considered hair and eye color to ensure their children would carry on the family colors.

Isabella held her dress with both hands and curtsied slightly.

Martha waved her hand once as if she didn't want to receive even such a greeting.

"When His Grace arrives later, do it properly then. You know what will happen if you do anything improper, don't you?"

"Yes, Mother."

Isabella answered calmly.

"At least you don't smell."

The drawing room door opened and Rosalie entered, speaking.

As expected, she was splendidly dressed. Rosalie's voluminous skirt was clearly different from Isabella's dress with its barely-there volume.

And on her neck shone the necklace Genos had given her, set with a blue diamond—a privilege of royalty.

"But what's this?"

Rosalie, standing in front of Isabella, spotted her butterfly brooch and asked.

"Ah... I tried wearing it. How is it?"

Isabella smiled awkwardly.

Rosalie stared intently at her smiling face, then suddenly reached out and snatched the brooch away.

"Ugh!"

Isabella groaned, pressing her hand to her chest where the brooch's pin had pricked her, but Rosalie couldn't see such things right now.