Tail’s Curse Chapter 2

🫧

 

“Ahh, agh, argh.”  

 

“Phew…”  

 

Unlike the roughness from before, his movements gradually became more skillful, and Cordelia gasped shallowly, her lips parting.  

 

The man’s tongue teased her trembling one. 

 

‘Do you like it?’ he asked again, and when she nodded this time, he bit down on her damp lower lip, leaving a mark. 

 

The delicate skin split, a faint trace of blood beading. 

 

Licking the small wound like an animal, he muttered, “I wish you were in pain.”  

 

Cordelia closed her eyes.  

 

“But damn it, if you hurt, I hurt twice as much.”  

 

‘You don’t even care about my wounds.’

 

“Where else does such an unfair relationship exist?”  

 

As if mocking himself for never knowing love could be this wretched, he kissed her tenderly.

 

 And that was what hurt the most—more than any pain, it crushed her soul.  

 

Ignoring the resentment and wounds lurking beneath his fury, Cordelia kissed him first. The rough growl that vibrated against her throat was intoxicating. 

 

Even as he claimed love was pain, she felt a deep, resonating joy. She, too, had never known love could be this greedy, this selfish.  

 

“I’ve never been the weaker one in a lifelong contract, yet here I am, trapped in the most unfair deal. But what can I do? I’m still madly in love with you. Even after you stabbed me in the back and ran.”  

 

“…”  

 

“Take everything from me. Just stay by my side.”  

 

‘Until I grow tired of you.’

 

Until dawn, the sounds of their moans and sighs spilled endlessly from the room.  

 

Long after their passionate lovemaking, only when the man had fallen asleep did Cordelia sit up, straightening the covers.  

 

Moonlight draped over his platinum hair, glinting like golden wheat. She gently smoothed it, careful not to wake him.  

 

Her slender body swayed slightly as she rose from the bed, then straightened and stepped out the door.  

 

The endless call of the sea muffled her ears.  

 

The waves crashed relentlessly, their white foam shattering like thunder.  

 

Cordelia gazed down at the sea—unchanging, indifferent, even if it swallowed her whole.  

 

Time was running out.  

 

It felt like she was paying the price for ignoring her mother’s warnings.  

 

‘If she saw me now, she’d be disappointed in my foolishness.’

 

But Cordelia couldn’t have helped loving him. She had never met anyone so wretched, so dazzling, so tender—who wanted her so desperately.  

 

“Cordelia!”  

 

If asked whether she regretted loving him, the answer was no. 

 

Even in this agony, even in this pain, the only things left in her worthless life were the moments and emotions shared with him.  

 

Turning away from his furious, desperate face as he rushed out after her, she threw herself into the sea without hesitation. 

 

The waves surged.  

 

‘Please, let the sea wash everything away.’

 

The pain, the sorrow, the resentment, the loneliness, the hope—even the love. 

 

All of it.  

 

In her sinking vision, the shimmering surface swirled and shattered as a dark shadow shot toward her like a dolphin, pulling her into an embrace. 

 

Air rushed into her lips, and fierce amber eyes flashed.  

 

Cordelia closed her eyes as she felt his arms tighten around her waist, swimming fiercely toward the surface.  

 

‘What will become of us?’

 

🫧

 

Cordelia’s eyes flew open.  

 

Staring blankly at the familiar soot-stained ceiling, Cordelia sighed and buried her face in the tattered teddy bear she clung to.  

 

Every morning she woke beneath this same ceiling, the same melancholy weighing her down, she found herself trapped in contradictory thoughts.  

 

‘Another morning has come safely.’ Or perhaps— ‘Another miserable day begins.’  

 

Dazed by an odd sense of lethargy, she lay still for a while before finally dragging herself up. Her mood didn’t matter—her stomach was empty. 

 

Ironically, no matter what she thought, the world kept turning. Hunger came when it was time, sleep when it was time. Absurd, really.  

 

Cordelia dressed herself in the simple, much-mended dress—once her late mother’s—and pressed a kiss to the cheek of Jéjé, the teddy bear sitting neatly on her bed.

 

‘I’ll be back.’

 

This bear, mended by her mother, was Cordelia’s only friend.  

 

Tiptoeing down the creaky old stairs, she froze when the dust-covered wood groaned underfoot. Her blood ran cold.  

 

Last year, she could still descend quietly—but she must have grown taller since then. 

 

The hem of her dress rode up, exposing her ankles. Not an incorrect guess, given how little she ate. There was no way she could have gained weight.  

 

Swallowing hard, she made it to the first floor and scanned the silent mansion. 

 

The dust-laden halls were still in the morning.  

 

Her father had likely spent another night gambling. While her aunt was at her latest lover’s house, then her cousin Morris was, as usual, drinking and brawling with local thugs. Also, his sister Dorea had abandoned her chores to escape their aunt’s nagging.  

 

For Cordelia, this was fortunate.  

 

Rubbing her growling stomach, she crept into the kitchen, searching for something to eat.  

 

After the last servant fled years ago and the elderly butler—who had loyally served the family for generations—passed away, the household had fallen into even deeper poverty. Her father and the others had squandered what little remained of the Marguerite fortune.  

 

Once a noble house with centuries of history, the Marguerite estate now stood in ruins, without even a cook or maid to its name.  

 

Today, luckily, there were leftover sausages and stale biscuits from her father’s drinking. 

 

Sniffing cautiously, she nibbled at them like a mouse, chewing slowly. 

 

Frail like her mother, Cordelia couldn’t eat too quickly or too much without getting sick.  

 

In this house, no one would nurse her if she fell ill. 

 

If she starved to death, they’d only complain about the inconvenience of disposing of her body. 

 

Being sick was a luxury she couldn’t afford.  

 

Mentally counting the coins she’d earned from embroidery and gathering herbs last week, she figured it might be enough for bread and a small piece of cheese.  

 

The imagined scent of fresh bread made her stomach growl again. With a dazed expression, she rubbed her flat belly and fished out a tiny pill from the pouch around her neck, swallowing it dry.  

 

‘The medicine’s running out too.’

 

The weight of despair pressed heavier, but like a stubborn weed—trampled yet still surviving—she forced herself to focus on today’s tasks. 

 

If she stayed still, the thoughts would overwhelm her.  

 

Though nobility in name only, Cordelia liked menial work. 

 

It was productive, earned her bread, and—most importantly—while her hands were busy, melancholy and loneliness couldn’t torment her. 

 

What better work was there?  

 

‘Right. I have to keep going.’

 

“Hey.”  

 

Her thin body stiffened mid-bite. Reflexively, she clenched her trembling hands behind her back, lowering her gaze and pressing her lips together. 

 

A familiar shadow fell over the worn wooden floor. 

 

‘I should have gone upstairs faster.’

 

“Wondered what the little rat’s been up to. Still alive, huh?”  

 

Her cousin Morris reeked of liquor and stale tobacco. Bile rose in her throat, but she swallowed it down.  

 

Strictly speaking, her family didn’t ‘abuse’ her. 

 

They prodded her forehead, shoved her aside, and occasionally delivered ‘light discipline’—just enough to leave no marks when she disobeyed.  

 

As they always reminded her, they ‘could’ have whipped her or thrown her naked into the snow. 

 

So Cordelia told herself she wasn’t being abused.  

 

‘This is nothing. I have a place to sleep. Sometimes I even earn money. I have relatives—useless as they are—and a fiancé. I’m better off than the truly unfortunate children outside.’

 

She repeated the mantra a thousand times, but it never made her feel better.  

 

A thick finger jabbed her forehead, and she flinched, bracing herself not to stumble. 

 

If he kicked her shins, it would bruise.  

 

“What, no greeting? Too high and mighty now, noble brat?”