Chapter 3. After the Surrender

The atmosphere in the ballroom froze in an instant.

“…Hmm.”

Raskal removed his glove and lightly ran his hand over his face.

The sound of the slap had been sharp, but thanks to the glove, his skin hadn’t been scratched. It didn’t even hurt as much as he had expected.

Still, his naturally pale complexion betrayed a faint redness where the blow had landed.

Catching his reflection in a nearby window, Raskal let out a soft chuckle and murmured to himself.

“It seems slapping improves blood circulation.”

In front of him, Serenia stood gasping for breath, her face a mix of shock and despair.

A piercing ring echoed in her ears, her head buzzing painfully. Her hands trembled, and her vision blurred to a stark white.

Suddenly, tears she couldn’t understand welled up and threatened to spill, but she gritted her teeth, fighting them back.

She felt utterly pathetic.

‘I talked about selling myself, about doing whatever it takes to survive… but the moment he said I had to repay him with my body, I lashed out like a fool.’

Whether his words were twisted or not, someone had come forward to take her in.

Lowering her head, Serenia let out a hollow laugh.

‘…I really haven’t come to terms with reality yet, have I?’

A decoration meant to be sold at a high price.

A trophy that only gains value when someone else’s name is engraved on it.

A statue, unable and unworthy to act on its own.

‘For someone like me to keep making futile efforts… How ridiculous I must have looked to everyone else.’

She chuckled bitterly and slowly closed her eyes.

‘…Fine. It’s late, but I should let go of everything now.’

Her name, her family, her status, her pride, her hopes, her guilt for her father, even her life.
None of those things mattered to a lifeless statue anyway.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Serenia felt a strange clarity.

She opened her eyes and looked straight at Raskal, who stood before her with a crooked smirk. His face, still composed and elegant, was irritatingly flawless. She couldn’t help but feel a faint pang of regret for her earlier slap.

‘I should’ve hit him harder.’

If she was going to die anyway, wouldn’t it have been worth trading her life for just one of the Duke’s teeth?

‘…Should I take the chance and hit him again?’

Before she could act on the thought, the sound of another slap rang out.

Smack!

Her head snapped to the right, the force turning her face away.

A fiery pain flared across her left cheek, burning as if it had been scorched. The sharp sting spread rapidly, yanking Serenia out of her spiraling thoughts and back to the harsh reality in front of her.

“How dare you… How dare you!”

The enraged voice belonged to none other than Dalia Admancanon, the late Duke’s widow and Raskal’s mother. Her golden gown was stained with deep red streaks of spilled wine.

‘So that crash earlier… must have been her wine glass,’ Serenia thought absently, her mind still reeling from the slap.

Dalia stood trembling with rage, her eyes bloodshot and brimming with unshed tears.

“Your father killed my husband, and now his daughter dares to lay her filthy hands on my son?”

With her entire body trembling, Dalia spat her words like venom, her fury barely contained. Serenia, however, simply lowered her gaze in silence.

‘Considering she’s done me the favor of snapping me back to my senses, I suppose I can tolerate this much abuse.’

“This family! Shameless and disgraceful, just like father, like daughter!”

“…”

But Serenia had no intention of apologizing. After all, she’d already paid enough for her earlier mistake—a stinging slap that likely improved the almighty Duke’s blood circulation.

Seeing Serenia standing silently, not offering a single word of repentance, Dalia grew even more enraged.

“You—you brazen thing! Not even a word of regret from your lips!”

Raskal, who had been silently watching the back of his mother, finally spoke, his voice calm but firm.

“Mother. You’re in my way. Please step aside.”

“…What?”

In my way?

Stunned by her son’s words, Dalia faltered, retreating a step in disbelief. Taking advantage of the opening, Raskal stepped past her and stood directly before Serenia again.

“So, what’s your answer?”

At his question, Serenia raised her eyes, meeting his gaze without hesitation.

“You’ve demanded that I repay my debt. And so, I must repay it.”

Raskal’s lips curved into a crooked smile, as though he’d been waiting for this exact response.

“Good. Then it’s settled.”

“But, Your Grace, your calculation is flawed.”

“What?”

Raskal’s face stiffened as he responded, his tone low and cold.

Holding his gaze firmly, Serenia countered.

“A life debt should be repaid with a life, not a body.”

For the first time, cracks appeared in Raskal’s composed expression. His face twisted, and seeing his mask slip was strangely satisfying to Serenia. Smiling brightly, she continued.

“Whenever the day comes that you wish to collect, just let me know. I’ll repay you immediately.”

With that, Serenia turned on her heel and walked away.

Her steps were steady and unwavering as she left the ballroom.

“That—how dare she…!”

Dalia, overwhelmed by fury, collapsed to the ground as if fainting.

Raskal, meanwhile, stood frozen, his fists clenched tightly, his gaze fixed on Serenia’s retreating figure.

* * *

Having left the ballroom, Serenia walked straight toward the carriage waiting for her.

The farther she moved from the glittering chandeliers of the banquet hall, the darker the world around her became. She lifted her gaze, searching for even a hint of light, but the sky was blanketed by thick, dark clouds, obscuring any stars or moon.

It felt as if the entire world was conspiring to predict her bleak future. She let out a faint sigh.

“Ah.”

Something cold brushed against the tip of her nose. She looked up to see snowflakes quietly drifting down, slowly turning the dark sky white.

It was the first snowfall of the year, arriving on the last day of November.

“…The roads will get slippery,” she muttered.

Even at the sight of the season’s first snow, she couldn’t muster anything beyond such a practical thought. She let out a hollow laugh at her own lack of sentiment.

Before long, she reached her carriage. Out of habit, she instinctively reached into her pocket to check how much money she had left—a routine she’d developed over the past five years.

“This is pathetic…”

She murmured to herself, embarrassed by the reflex.

Just as she was about to withdraw her hand, her fingers brushed against something stiff. Curious, she pulled it out. It was the slip of paper she had received in front of the bank earlier.

She stared at the note, recalling the events of that day: the flamboyantly dressed loan shark and the address scrawled on the paper.

< Pledis District 3, Lot 1013 >

No business name. No representative. Just an address.

She stared at it for a long moment before nodding to herself, as if reaching a decision.

“Well, if I’m going to die anyway, I might as well throw a party with borrowed money before I go!”

With that, she strode toward the coachman, the note in hand. She handed it to him with a decisive gesture.

“Not to the Count’s residence. Take me to this address instead.”

The coachman glanced at the address and hesitated, his expression uneasy.

“At this hour?”

Clearly, the idea of entering Pledis District 3 this late in the evening made him wary.

But Serenia, her resolve already set, had no patience for his hesitation.

“Yes,”

She answered firmly, nodding for emphasis.

Reluctantly, the coachman complied, though his expression remained uneasy. “Very well. Please climb in.”

For the first time, Serenia veered away from the path that led home. This was her first act of rebellion.

* * *

Not long after, the carriage came to a stop in front of a grand mansion.

The residence was far more majestic and opulent than the Barishart estate. Its intricate design, built with premium materials, stood in stark contrast to the grimy back alleys and soulless commercial buildings Serenia had envisioned.

She estimated the mansion was worth at least fifty thousand krovats. How many lives had that extravagant loan shark drained to build such a place? The thought made her hands ball into fists.

“Quite the enterprise, extorting money without a hint of guilt,” she muttered as she reached for the door knocker.

Thud. Thud.

The sound of metal striking metal echoed a few times before the door creaked open, revealing a silver-haired man.

‘He must be a secretary working for the loan shark,’ she guessed.

As she sized him up, the man bowed politely.

“Welcome, my lady. We’ve been expecting you.”

‘Expecting me?’

His greeting, which implied he had anticipated her eventual visit, irritated Serenia. She frowned and replied coldly,

“Good. That’ll make things quicker. May I come in?”

“Of course. Please, step inside.”

e said, maintaining a perfectly composed demeanor despite her sharp tone.

‘…Has he been trained as a butler?’ she wondered.

Though suspicious, she followed him in silence. He guided her through the mansion with impeccable manners, leading her to the drawing room.

When he opened the door with a refined gesture, Serenia stepped inside without hesitation.