Rosalia — POV
"What is it?"
When Mary stood in front of me, I asked her in a cold voice—one eerily similar to Cassel's tone whenever he dealt with those bastards before.
In fact, I was even colder… even more hateful toward Mary.
How could I not despise the very person responsible for every disaster Cassel suffered in his life—and for his tragic death?
Every time I saw her and that bastard Cecil, a hundred methods of torture and execution flashed through my mind.
It was unfortunate that I couldn't act on them.
At least not now—not when Cassel was still protecting his family, even if he seemed indifferent toward them.
He never deprived them of anything nor treated them poorly.
"You really are something, aren't you?"
Mary spoke while staring at me with a gaze that had nothing to do with a saint. If anything, "demon" suited her far better.
Deep hatred, reluctance, and jealousy were carved into her beautiful features—making her look more terrifying than lovely.
