Tail’s Curse Chapter 21

 

Such manners might be considered common sense for a body like hers, but from what she’s lived through, common sense is surprisingly hard to uphold.  

 

Even those trivial things were something she had never received from her father.  

 

Perhaps because of that, even when he hurled openly vulgar insults at her, whether due to her dire circumstances or the slave mentality of an unfortunate life, she didn’t feel particularly offended. 

 

Or maybe it was because of his striking appearance. 

 

If she were a wealthy, privileged lady like Sasha Ander, wouldn’t she have gotten angry in that situation? 

 

In truth, that would have been the normal reaction. Cordelia was the odd one.  

 

Things like pride were luxuries. 

 

So, even the things others took for granted were too precious and heavy for Cordelia’s life—she couldn’t even dare to possess them.  

 

Strangely enough, Noah Tudor seemed to like Cordelia precisely because she lacked pride. 

 

Well, was that fortunate? Cordelia felt relieved.  

 

She had no time to spare and wanted to live out the rest of her days to the fullest. And then, she wanted to die cleanly. 

 

Thinking that way, she even began to consider meeting a generous creditor like Noah Tudor as a stroke of luck. 

 

After all, life as his collateral was far more comfortable than she had braced herself for.  

 

There were no debt collectors, no need to tread carefully, no violence or verbal abuse. 

 

The servants treated her with utmost respect, referring to her as the master’s guest. She was given clean, soft bedding and delicious, high-quality meals. Her bathwater was scented with fine oils and flower petals.  

 

Even the indoor slippers were made of soft lambskin, and her nightgown was woven from Eastern silk. 

 

The walls were adorned with top-grade amber and rosewood, the bed was exquisitely crafted, and even the ivory comb and other trivial items were so luxurious they left her speechless. 

 

It was a life more extravagant than when her maternal grandfather was still alive. They said the Tudor family’s wealth was beyond imagination—and indeed, it was true.  

 

Had she ever been treated like this in her life?  

 

Stirring the cream soup sprinkled with peanuts absentmindedly with a silver spoon, she pondered. 

 

Thanks to eating well and sleeping soundly, her health was stable except for a few drops of nosebleed two days prior. 

 

Honestly, at this point, she might as well be grateful to her creditor.  

 

Maybe I’m just shallow. 

 

Apart from the minor inconvenience of not being allowed to leave, her body was so at ease that she couldn’t help but laugh. 

 

Among the many villas owned by Noah Tudor, this mansion also had an excellent library, so she could read her favorite books to her heart’s content.

 

As Cordelia looked at an illustration of Hansel and Gretel entering the witch’s candy house, she suddenly wondered—what if this place was like a sweet candy house? Would they fatten her up to eat her?  

 

But would such a place even have anything worth eating? She was of no use, after all.  

 

Lost in thought, Cordelia was approached by the maid Jane whose face resembled an owl’s, smiling brightly.  

 

“Would you like a snack, miss? Chef Den made a delicious custard pudding. It would pair wonderfully with black tea.”  

 

“Yes, please!”  

 

The food here was all so incredibly delicious. 

 

It was almost a shame her stomach was too small to finish everything. 

 

Though she carried a peculiar air of refinement, Cordelia had never formally learned social etiquette, so her likes and dislikes were plainly visible—she couldn’t hide her joy when enjoying something good.  

 

While high society might have found fault with her, the mansion’s staff greatly appreciated Cordelia’s honest gratitude and excitement. 

 

Stiff nobles rarely showed much emotion, so this foreign young lady was a guest worth serving.  

 

“Aren’t you bored, miss? It must be dull without someone to talk to. The master hasn’t been around for days.”  

 

Noah Tudor had been so busy that Cordelia hadn’t seen him since their first conversation. 

 

Even when he briefly stopped by the villa, he would lock himself in the study with his aides before vanishing again. 

 

Naturally, all Cordelia ever saw of him were fleeting glimpses—his secretary hurrying past outside the window or, on rare occasions, his back as he rode off in a carriage or on horseback, either very early or very late.  

 

This morning, too, she watched as the carriage carrying Noah Tudor passed through the lively market streets and faded into the cityscape surrounded by the sea.  

 

The port city of Narath, where she was staying, was located in the southern part of the empire. 

 

With its sand-colored buildings and glimpses of the sea peeking through, it was as exotic and splendid as a gentleman spicing up a plain suit with a blue silk handkerchief.  

 

Though smaller than the largest port city, Drakan, the unique accents of the locals and the vibrant mix of races from all over the world made it as lively as an orange furnace.  

 

Even though she hadn’t reached her intended destination, Katisha, Cordelia was too absorbed in the sights of the empire’s mainland—her first time seeing such a grand city—to feel much disappointment. 

 

There were so many new things to take in that she was practically overwhelmed.  

 

If she had to name one regret, it was that she couldn’t walk through those bustling streets herself.

 

The lively maid Jane, a native of this city, chattered away with amusing anecdotes and fascinating tidbits about its intriguing places, fueling Cordelia’s imagination and growing anticipation for this charming city day by day.  

 

She longed to see the city’s famed attractions—the brown bread baked by the sea breeze, seafood skewers, the herbal Heiro beer said to carry the scent of the ocean, the musical performances by turbaned foreign sailors, the Viking festival passed down since before the empire’s founding, and especially the mermaid statue, a symbol of the city’s legendary mermaid tale.  

 

But it was impossible, wasn’t it? She was already receiving far more generosity than she deserved.  

 

Bound by debt, it was unthinkable for her to go out alone, and the busy man in charge of her affairs was unlikely to spare his people just for her outing. 

 

No matter how much of a rogue he seemed, his words and actions were always calculated.  

 

She shouldn’t be a bother. No, she shouldn’t mistake his kindness for leniency.  

 

Even without his inheritance as the Tudor family’s heir, Noah Tudor’s personal wealth alone placed him among the empire’s top five magnates. 

 

What he had provided her so far must have been negligible to him. 

 

To him, she was likely nothing more than a well-kept ‘collateral.’  

 

Would she never have to face him and speak about the debt again? She had expected him to say something about the principal, but there had been complete silence.  

 

As Cordelia muttered these thoughts to herself, she was startled by her disappointment. 

 

No, she wasn’t disappointed. It was just that someone with such a striking presence wasn’t easily forgotten. Besides, she owed him.  

 

Right, it’s better if the debt talk comes later. I have nothing to regret.  

 

Sitting by the window, Cordelia gazed at the cityscape bathed in the crimson glow of sunset and let out a faint sigh.  

 

But that very night, they unexpectedly crossed paths again.  

 

Deep in slumber, Cordelia awoke to a sharp, throbbing pain in her chest. It was momentary, but excruciating—as if shards of glass were lodged inside. 

 

After a period of calm, the sudden, lightning-like pain made her break into a cold sweat as she clawed at her chest.  

 

“Ah… it hurts… it hurts…”  

 

Sniffling, she fumbled for the pouch by her bedside and hastily took her medicine.

 

Without even time to reach for water, she chewed and swallowed the bitter, fishy pills until the pain finally subsided. 

 

Before she could even sigh in relief, tears welled up—whether from self-pity, fear, or loneliness, she didn’t know. It seemed she had forgotten her place just because she felt slightly better.

 

Even as she lay dying in pain, tossing and turning in sleepless agony, no one worried about her or came to her aid.  

 

And even if someone had been there, what could they have done? 

 

Perhaps it was better this way. She didn’t want anyone to feel the same helplessness she had as a child, watching her mother suffer.  

 

But the loneliness was unbearable.  

 

Sniffling with a reddened nose, Cordelia rubbed her swollen eyes and sat up. 

 

Sleep felt impossible—no, she was afraid that if she did fall asleep, she might never wake up again. She didn’t want to die like this, unnoticed and alone. 

 

She had always been by herself, so why did it suddenly feel so suffocating tonight?  

 

Should I call Jane? But that would just be a bother. Maybe I could ask for a snack—no, perhaps just some warm milk.  

 

Her chest felt hollow, and a meaningless hunger gnawed at her. She needed to put something in her mouth if she wanted to sleep again. 

 

Staggering to her feet, Cordelia grabbed a lantern and stepped out of her room, heading for the kitchen.  

 

The mansion was silent in the dead of night. 

 

Despite the coastal city’s usual warmth, a chill sea breeze crept in from somewhere, making the back of her neck prickle. 

 

Hugging her shoulders, she descended the stairs—only to flinch at the sight of a light still on in the parlor. 

 

Three in the morning—even the servants should have been asleep by now. 

 

Should I turn back?  

 

Hesitating, she turned to retreat—when suddenly, a loud clatter echoed through the silence.