Tail’s Curse Chapter 18

The corner of his lips curled up.  

 

“Is that important? More than that—”  

 

When the other man strode closer, she flinched in surprise but had nowhere to retreat. She had never seen someone so tall before—his thick, solid frame, his large hands still reeking of blood. 

 

It meant that if he wished, far more terrible things could happen to Cordelia than anything she had experienced so far.  

 

He was a perceptive man. The moment fear flashed across Cordelia’s face, he immediately halted. 

 

Still, intimidation was effortless—he didn’t even need to resort to ungentlemanly methods.  

 

“Wouldn’t it matter how much the debtor owes?”  

 

Ah…  

 

The word ‘debtor’ felt unreal, yet familiar. Because of her father’s gambling debts, people had come knocking almost daily. 

 

And now they had found her! 

 

Cordelia staggered back in a mix of disgust and terror, but aside from the crashing waves growing louder, nothing changed. 

 

The man simply stood there, silently watching her futile struggle. His beautiful face, gazing at her with boredom, was horrifying. Panting, she muttered,  

 

“I—I don’t have money. Did you come because of my father?”  

 

“Precisely because you’re the sole surviving member of the Marguerite family. The one who borrowed may have been your father, but legally, the loan was granted to the Marguerite family. That makes you, the last Marguerite, responsible for the debt, doesn’t it?”  

 

As of now, including interest…  

 

“Five thousand rubles, I’d say. Your late father repaid a pittance not long ago, but the interest has only grown since. And since I had to come all the way here personally, we’ll need to account for the trouble, won’t we? I’m a busy man.”  

 

He explained kindly, but Cordelia only felt more suffocated. 

 

Five thousand rubles? Five thousand rubles? 

 

She had never even held five hundred rubles in her life. Indignant, she screamed impulsively,  

 

“I never borrowed that money! I—I didn’t take any loan, so why should I—?”  

 

“That’s not my concern.”  

 

His interruption was smooth, almost sweet.  

 

“Take your grievances to your father. Right now, Miss Cordelia Marguerite, what that little head of yours should be working hard to figure out is how you’ll repay my money in full. Understood?”  

 

Just so you know, until my money is fully repaid, you won’t be allowed to die, no matter what. Feel free to look forward to it.  

 

Cordelia had seen the worst of humanity in her life.  

 

But was there truly another person in this wretched existence who could smile like a devil with such a beautiful face?  Her head spun.  

 

In her tilted vision, his expressionless face came into view.  

 

Seeing his raised eyebrow, Cordelia fainted.

 

🫧

 

And from time to time, Cordelia wondered. Her mother knew how to avoid the mermaid’s curse. 

 

So why? Why did her mother have to suffer?  

 

Though she had long avoided the truth, whenever life grew weary, whenever she saw her mother’s partner—who had fewer and fewer reasons to disappoint with each passing day—Cordelia couldn’t help but think.

 

Perhaps her mother had deliberately allowed death to take her.  

 

If her pain had been her chosen method of a long, drawn-out suicide, Cordelia didn’t know how to understand it.  

 

If it was suicide, why did it have to be so painful and agonizing?  

 

Why did Mother leave me behind?  

 

“Miss, are you awake?”  

 

When she opened her eyes, instead of the familiar ceiling, a round face dotted with freckles looked down at her.  

 

An owl? As she stared blankly at the innocent brown eyes and murmured to herself, the maid in uniform grinned brightly, her tanned face beaming.  

 

“Thank goodness. You’ve been asleep for three whole days without waking, so the master was worried. The doctor said there’s nothing wrong with you.”  

 

“The master?”  

 

She should have asked where she was first, but the question slipped out differently. The maid nodded.  

 

“Sir Noah Tudor. The one who saved you. I heard you were kidnapped by pirates.”  

 

“What?”  

 

“Oh, do you not know Sir Tudor?”  

 

How could she not? Who in the Empire wouldn’t know that name? 

 

Even on the ship, she had heard it endlessly. It was just that he had no connection to her life whatsoever. 

 

To think that after nearly falling victim to pirates and fainting under a loan shark’s threats, the Empire’s hero had suddenly saved her? The sequence of events made no sense.  

 

Seeing her dazed expression, the maid busily fetched a newspaper and handed her a warm cup of water.  

 

“Here, have a sip first. The whole Empire is in an uproar because the master rescued the Mermaid, a passenger ship captured by pirates. Can you believe it? Miss Sasha Ander was on that ship too! They say Duke Arsen is so grateful he’s promised a grand reward to the master. But then the master brought back an unconscious young lady—everyone was shocked! He’s never brought a woman into his private quarters before!”

 

As she listened to the maid’s chatter, the front page of the newspaper featured a black-and-white photo of the ill-fated passenger ship and interviews with survivors.  

 

Seeing the picture of Sasha Ander wrapped in a blanket gave her an odd feeling. 

 

It wasn’t until she saw the Mermaid anchored at the port, surrounded by marines, and the pirates hanging their heads in handcuffs that it finally felt real. 

 

So, I really was rescued. But what about the debt? The loan shark?  

 

“Um, but why did that person bring me here?”  

It would’ve been easier to understand if she had woken up in a prison, a slave ship, or—if she was lucky—with Sasha Ander’s help. But suddenly being in a celebrity’s house? Her mind couldn’t keep up.  

 

The owl-like maid tilted her head.  

 

“Honestly, I don’t know either.”  

 

Then, she gasped, “Wait, do you owe the master money?”  

 

“Huh?”  

 

As Cordelia stared blankly, the maid nodded repeatedly as if it all made sense now.  

 

“Well, of course. There’d be no reason to bring you here unless it was about money. Ugh, and here I was getting my hopes up for nothing.”  

 

“What?”  

 

“Just how much do you owe? This is serious. What are you going to do?”  

 

Her big brown eyes filled with pity. The genuine sympathy in her gaze left Cordelia at a loss for words. Before she could respond, a knock sounded from outside.  

 

“Yes! Oh, silly me. You must be hungry—I’ll bring you something to eat!”  

 

“Ah, wait—”  

 

But the maid had already dashed out, leaving Cordelia alone. 

 

Rolling her eyes, she unfolded the newspaper again. The event summary was accompanied by rampant speculation—proof that the entire empire was indeed in an uproar.

 

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. °｡༻ The fact that Sir Noah Tudor, who had officially retired, has volunteered for a mission directly rather than by imperial decree is a first, sparking rumors that he may be returning to the military.  However, no additional explanation has been provided from within the Tudor family.  The eccentric personality and actions of the Empire’s hero are nothing particularly surprising, and even His Majesty the Emperor… (excerpt) Some are even speculating about a romance between the flower of high society, Miss Sasha Ander, and Sir Noah Tudor.  Duke Arsen, Miss Ander’s father, has also expressed immense gratitude and goodwill toward Sir Tudor. (excerpt) His Majesty the Emperor was greatly pleased by Sir Noah Tudor’s remarkable achievement of rescuing everyone without a single casualty.  For the first time, a photograph has been successfully taken of the Empire’s reclusive hero, who dislikes showing his face.  The Empire Times is the first to publish it. —Bottom left— …(excerpt)…   So, when did Miss Sasha Ander and Sir Noah Tudor begin their rosy courtship?   ༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. °｡༻

 

“What is this… It’s just a gossip piece stringing together rumors.”  

 

Cordelia frowned and was about to fold the newspaper when her gaze stopped on the profile photo of a man printed beside Sasha Ander’s picture. 

 

Even in the pose of a back-alley ruffian—a cigar in his mouth and hands shoved into his pockets—he was an oddly elegant and striking young man. 

 

The photo, seemingly taken from a distance with a blurred focus, captured him tilting his head slightly as if sensing the camera’s gaze, staring straight ahead. His eyes were so intense that even in black and white, it felt like looking at a living, breathing person.  

 

Fingers as long and graceful as a pianist’s, holding the cigar. Finely arched brows and a sharp, magnetic glare.  

 

A man who could overwhelm and captivate in an instant—effortlessly, as if born to do so.  

 

But what shocked Cordelia more was that the famous Noah Tudor, whose face was revealed for the first time in the newspaper, was not a stranger to her.  

 

“This man… is Noah Tudor?”