Jang Yeonggwang gently wiped the tears from Shin Jinghyeon's cheeks, his movements clumsy yet full of aching concern.
"All right, all right. If you want the engagement reinstated, then we'll do it."
"No need."
A clear, melodic voice cut through the air.
Baeran lifted her gaze, meeting the stunned eyes of Shin Jinghyeon and Jang Yeonggwang as they stood at her bedside.
"Let him break it off," she said softly, her tone calm, steady. "I don't like him anymore."
The words settled into the room like a quiet thunderclap—unexpected, decisive, and nothing like the foolish girl who came before her.
"Sweetheart…"
Shin Jinghyeon's breath caught as she met Baeran's calm, distant expression.
Her heart clenched at the sight.
Her poor Baeran—she must be truly heartbroken this time.
Why else would she speak with such cold resignation?
"Go! Yeonggwang!"
Her voice sharpened with sudden determination, the fragile sorrow in her eyes hardening into resolve.
"You need to go to the Han family right now. Tell them the engagement must be reinstated tomorrow!"
She sounded as if restoring the betrothal were the only lifeline that could mend her daughter's imagined suffering. The more Baeran withdrew, the more fiercely her mother clung.
Baeran let out a soft laugh.
With a mother like this, it was no wonder the original girl had been spoiled into uselessness.
Yet having that fierce, unquestioning concern directed at her stirred an unfamiliar warmth deep in her chest—quiet, tentative.
So this was what family felt like?
She stretched lazily, her movements graceful, and flexed the fingers of her right hand.
The cut wasn't deep.
It wouldn't hinder her in the slightest.
The villainess's self-inflicted injury was little more than a superficial scratch to someone who had once razed an underground syndicate on her own.
A furtive shadow flickered just beyond the doorway.
Baeran's gaze snapped toward it, sharp as a blade.
The figure froze under that sudden, icy scrutiny, then hastily lowered her voice.
"Eonni… you're finally awake."
Baeran's eyes narrowed.
Jang Yanyan.
The little servant girl Shin Jinghyeon had brought home six years ago.
In the decade that followed, she had coaxed and coddled the original Baeran so thoroughly that she was treated almost like a half–miss of the household—obeyed, trusted, indulged.
A wolf wearing a soft face.
One the old Baeran had been too blind to see through.
Jang Yanyan entered with careful steps, carrying a bowl between her hands.
"Eonni, you were unconscious for more than two hours. You scared everyone so much."
"I made your favorite bird's nest soup to help you recover."
The moment the bowl of amber-red blood-bird's-nest neared her, Baeran caught the faint, suffocating bitterness beneath its sweetness.
A drugged scent.
Something meant to dull the mind, cloud judgment, and slowly erode control.
Daily conditioning paired with long-term sedatives.
A careful scheme.
Too careful for the naïve girl who came before her.
But unfortunately for Jang Yanyan, she was no longer dealing with that girl.
Baeran's gaze flickered with a quiet, lethal clarity.
"Bring it here."
Baeran's voice floated out, languid and unhurried.
Jang Yanyan stepped closer at once, holding the bowl with exaggerated care.
"Eonni, drink it while it's warm."
Baeran's pale, elegant fingers accepted the bowl—
and her other hand shot out, swift as a striking serpent, gripping Yanyan's chin in a merciless pinch.
Before the girl could gasp or recoil, Baeran tipped the bowl forward.
In the very next heartbeat, the warm bird's nest soup poured straight into Jang Yanyan's mouth in a single, unstoppable rush.
The liquid overflowed, sliding down her trembling jaw, while her eyes widened in panic.
Baeran's gaze remained serene, cold, and utterly in control—
a queen feeding poison back to the hand that offered it.
"Mm—! Mmm—!"
Jang Yanyan thrashed wildly, but she couldn't break free from the iron grip clamped around her chin. Baeran's fingers might as well have been forged from steel.
The orange-red liquid spilled from the corners of Yanyan's mouth, running down her neck and soaking into her collar—messy, humiliating, impossible to hide.
Only when the bowl was completely empty did Baeran release her.
Yanyan collapsed onto the carpet, coughing with raw, tearing violence, each breath a desperate, broken gasp. Terror glazed her eyes, the realization dawning that the helpless "eonni" she once manipulated no longer existed.
Baeran watched her with a calm that chilled the room to silence—
as if she were merely observing cause and effect returning to their rightful order.
Shin Jinghyeon stared at Baeran in stunned disbelief.
"Sweetheart… what are you doing?"
Baeran set the empty bowl aside with elegant precision. Her gaze—cool, detached—fell upon the girl crumpled on the carpet.
"Who told you to call me eonni?"
Her voice was soft, almost gentle, yet it sliced like a drawn blade.
"You're nothing more than a stray the Jang family picked up. Remember your place."
The words struck harder than any physical blow.
Jang Yanyan froze, trembling, eyes wide with the shattering realization that the Baeran she once toyed with had vanished—
and in her place stood someone who saw straight through the pretty mask she'd been wearing for ten years.
Shin Jinghyeon looked both startled and worried.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong? Did Yanyan do something to upset you?"
Baeran turned her gaze toward her mother, and a small smile curved at the corner of her lips—calm, almost playful.
"Every time I eat something she brings," she said softly, "I lose control of my temper. I can't imagine what she's been putting in it."
The words were mild, almost conversational, yet they dropped into the room like a stone into still water—sending ripples of dread straight through Jang Yanyan, who lay trembling on the floor.
"And there's something else…"
Her voice drifted through the room, quiet and unhurried, yet every syllable carried a deadly clarity.
"This time, it was Jang Yanyan who told me to cut my wrist."
A hush fell.
"I'm afraid of pain. I never wanted to hurt myself. But she said all my crying and begging were useless—that unless I attempted suicide, you two wouldn't take the breakup seriously enough to go to the Han family."
Baeran tilted her head, her tone still light, almost thoughtful.
"If I'd slipped… if the blade had cut an artery… I'm not even sure the doctors would've been able to save me."
What?
Shin Jinghyeon's beautiful eyes flew wide, shock ripping through her so violently she seemed to forget how to breathe.
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees as the meaning of Baeran's words sank in.