Tail’s Curse – Chapter 3

Author: Nikss

“Oh, no.”

She murmured softly, then glanced up briefly only to meet his bloodshot, malicious eyes before quickly lowering her head again.

He was always itching for a fight, but today, his expression was especially vicious.

‘Did he lose money gambling? Or maybe things went sour with Jessie, the barmaid he’d been seeing.’

Morris had moved in with their aunt around the time Cordelia’s father started squandering the family fortune—right after her mother’s death.

Even as a boy, he’d been lecherous.

That was why, compared to her aunt—who seemed to take pleasure in tormenting her niece—or her father—who saw his daughter as nothing more than a bargaining chip—this filthy cousin unsettled Cordelia the most.

The older she grew, the more his predatory gaze followed her.

‘There it is again.’

His bulging eyes slowly raked over the slight swell of her chest or the curve of her thin waist, and she felt as if ice water had been poured down her back.

He licked his lips and spat on the floor.

“Tch. Damn it. If it weren’t for him—”

“…”

“If it weren’t for that damned prenatal betrothal or whatever, I’d have made sure you screamed every night. That guy’s weird, too. What’s left in this ruined family worth clinging to? Then again, you’re already twenty, and he still hasn’t taken you away. Maybe he’s finally thinking of cutting ties. Honestly, what do you even have besides a pretty face?”

He repeated the same taunts and humiliations he’d hurled at her countless times before, twisting her insides.

If things had gone according to her aunt’s plans, Cordelia would already be married off to this repulsive man, and all rights to the estate would have fallen into his hands.

But Cordelia had a fiancé.

At the thought of Jonathan—whom she hadn’t seen in so long—she pressed a hand to her fluttering chest and remembered the last letter he’d sent two months ago, tucked beneath her pillow, worn thin from rereading. She’d replied long ago, but Jonathan, studying abroad across the sea, had yet to respond.

He was her only source of joy and hope in her bleak and impoverished life.

Back when the family was still prosperous—before Cordelia was even born—her late grandfather, in what might have been foresight, had arranged a prenatal betrothal between her and the grandson of his lifelong friend, the De Villiers family.

He’d been utterly convinced his grandchild would be a girl—after all, the Marguerite family’s firstborns had always been daughters for generations.

Fortunately, when Cordelia was born, her grandfather—distrusting his unreliable son-in-law—had insisted that his granddaughter and her future husband inherit the family name.

The De Villiers, in turn, had readily agreed, seeing no issue with their second son—who wouldn’t inherit the title—becoming the head of the prestigious Marguerite household.

The problem was that in the twenty years since, much had changed.

First, her grandfather died suddenly during an overseas business trip.

Then, as her mother fell ill, the Marguerite family’s fortunes rapidly declined.

To make matters worse, while her father—who’d been waiting for his chance—ran the household into the ground, her mother passed away, leaving Cordelia abandoned.

And just as her circumstances had shifted, so too had her fiancé’s.

The eldest son of the De Villiers family, Jean, had died suddenly in a riding accident, and overnight, Jonathan became the unexpected heir.

For a second son who wasn’t meant to inherit a title to suddenly become the head of the family was a life-altering event—and naturally, it changed things between them.

There was no longer any compelling reason for Jonathan, now heir to a wealthy family, to marry his impoverished fiancée.

Nothing remained but ancestral friendship, a faded promise between grandfathers, tarnished honor, and a sense of obligation.

So while Jonathan grew more distinguished with each passing year, Cordelia only became shabbier and more pitiful.

Sometimes, she even felt shameless for still clinging to his side.

If it had only been poverty—if the family had merely fallen into ruin—she might have tried harder to endure the humiliation.

But her greatest shame wasn’t the lack of money. It was her family.

Every time rumors spread about her relatives’ vulgar behavior, every time she belatedly discovered her drunken father had taken out loans in her fiancé’s name, every time the De Villiers patriarch and his wife—who had once doted on her like a daughter—looked at her with thinly veiled discomfort, she felt as if a knife were twisting inside her already worn-out heart.

‘If only we were just poor.’

Poverty wasn’t her fault. Neither was her family.

And yet, she was already a sinner.

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to let go of Jonathan, who always treated his shabby fiancée with courtesy and tried his best to uphold his duty.

It wasn’t out of sweet, romantic affection—it was closer to survival instinct.

She knew better than anyone that her very existence was a burden and a liability to him.

And yet, helplessly selfish, she still leaned on him.

‘Maybe I really am my father’s daughter after all.’

If she were truly noble, she would have ended the engagement herself—for the sake of her last shred of pride as an aristocrat, and for his sake.

But right now, if she lost that engagement, she would also lose the last bit of ‘merchandise value’ she had left in this house—and fall into an even deeper abyss.

“Damn it. If it weren’t for him—”

Under his greedy stare—like a man eyeing fruit he couldn’t reach—Cordelia swallowed dryly and stepped back.

Her aunt always said Cordelia was a lucky girl.

‘If not for your decent bloodline, you’d have been sold off to some rich old man long ago.’

Cordelia agreed.

Without Jonathan, she’d be wallowing in far worse filth.

Morris lingered for a while longer, spewing vulgar taunts and crude remarks before finally leaving.

It wasn’t until evening, when Cordelia returned exhausted from selling herbs, that she understood why he had been so irritable.

Her aunt, her lips stained crimson with rouge, was drinking alone in the parlor. She set down her glass and called out to Cordelia.

“Child, come sit here.”

Cordelia’s body, already stiff from the cold wind, grew even more rigid at the summons.

But refusal wasn’t an option.

Stiffly, she lowered herself onto the hard wooden chair across from her aunt, meeting the sharp gaze of smudged eyeliner that scrutinized her.

“Where have you been wandering until now? You’re this family’s only heir. A grown girl with no sense of danger in this world.”

The hypocrisy was laughable—her son harassed Cordelia daily as a matter of routine. Her aunt alternated between belittling her niece out of inferiority and spite, then flaunting Cordelia’s lineage whenever it suited her.

A convenient mindset indeed. And usually, when she spoke like this…

“Your fiancé is returning soon, I hear.”

Ahh.

Cordelia’s heart, lifeless all day, suddenly pounded violently. She had expected this.

After all, once he finished his studies abroad, they were to marry.

‘Finally, I can leave this house!’

She fought to keep her joy hidden, but her aunt—too shrewd—caught the flicker of hope in Cordelia’s clouded jade-green eyes and clicked her tongue mockingly.

“Happy, are you? Anyone would think we starved you.”

As if they had ever fed her well. But Cordelia, as always, pressed her lips shut. Her aunt knew how to inflict pain without leaving marks.

Clearing her throat, the woman twitched her crimson-painted lips.

“You’re an adult now. You must take responsibility for this family. You know our situation is… difficult. So we expect your husband to help us.”

She was already calling Jonathan Cordelia’s ‘husband’.

A request phrased as a demand—a warning that even if Cordelia married and left, her ties to this wretched household would remain.

Cordelia nodded meekly, her chest tight. But her aunt’s gaze sharpened, gleaming with something unspoken.

“About your illness. Yes, the one your mother had.”

Her heart plummeted.

“Your father says it’s hereditary. It’s not serious, is it?”

The concern wasn’t for her—it was for a product’s defect.

Cordelia blinked, dazed. To her family, she was just a frail, sickly, useless girl.