The Borden Family was one of the more well-known noble houses in the capital.

Emil Borden, the head of the family, held one of the most prestigious positions within the royal palace, serving in the Secretariat. His wife, once the belle of a noble family renowned for its beauty, was the talk of high society. His two sons had begun their careers in the legal and financial offices, following in their father’s footsteps.

Their refined manners, striking looks, and eloquent speech made them frequent topics of discussion in social circles. And behind their rise was the shadow of a name—Benning.

Though a branch family, the Bordens maintained close ties with the Bennings, one of the kingdom’s most prominent martial families. The power of the Benning name was a constant presence, an influence that added weight to the Bordens' standing in the capital's social sphere. There was always the possibility of favors falling their way from such a connection.

But there was very little known about the youngest Borden, Marion. Though her existence was no secret, she had never made an official appearance in society. It was this absence that sparked all kinds of gossip and rumors among the nobility.

“Is she ill?”

“Maybe she’s not ready to be introduced yet. Perhaps she’s too beautiful, and the baron is reluctant to let her out into the world.”

“Or maybe she hasn’t mastered her manners yet. A noble family like the Bordens wouldn’t present someone until she’s perfect.”

These were the speculations exchanged by noble ladies over tea. Lacking any solid information, the rumors grew wilder as time passed.

“Maybe she’s a witch born with evil tendencies.”

“Or an illegitimate child. That would explain why she’s never been seen.”

Despite the wild rumors circulating, the Borden family remained silent, neither confirming nor denying any of the gossip. This only fueled further suspicion within social circles.

“Haven’t you heard anything from the Borden family?”

“I saw the baroness yesterday, but she didn’t mention her daughter at all.”

“She’ll have to make her debut before she comes of age, though.”

In time, the topic of Marion Borden became something of a joke. Growing tired of the lack of response from the family, the nobility moved on to other gossip.

“Perhaps the Borden family doesn’t have a daughter at all.”

“Or maybe she’s not too beautiful—maybe she’s too ugly to show in public.”

“So, it must be true that she’s an illegitimate child.”

These were the kinds of snide comments exchanged over tea, though they could easily be taken as insults to the Borden family. Still, neither the baron nor the baroness took any action, further mystifying their peers.

Eventually, the rumors faded into the background, replaced by fresher scandals and gossip. A noble lady breaking off her engagement, the handsome young heir of a baron’s family, a newly discovered gold mine on a count’s estate—there was never a shortage of new topics to discuss.

The tragic rumors surrounding Marion Borden began to disappear like smoke in the wind. She faded from the conversation, no longer the subject of scandal or intrigue.

Emil Borden sat in his study, watching the smoke rise from his pipe with cold eyes. Though he still occasionally drew admiring glances from noblewomen at social events, his thoughts were elsewhere, focused on the opportunity now before him.

The curse had been successfully placed on the thorn in his side. He couldn’t afford to simply eliminate Maxim; he was too useful. And besides, getting rid of him might not be as easy as it seemed. There was also Theodora to consider.

He needed to tighten his control over Maxim, and the best way to do that was through a political marriage.

The baron allowed himself a small smile. Using his worthless daughter to bind Maxim’s fate—how satisfying.

The arrangement with Baron Appart had been finalized. Completely unaware that his son was cursed, the baron had eagerly agreed to the engagement, laughing heartily as he shook hands with Emil. It had taken all of Emil’s self-control not to sneer in his face.

Maxim, cursed and injured as he was, still had the power to send shockwaves of fear through those around him. Yet his father was no different from any other fool of the lower nobility.

Emil turned to the servant waiting just outside his study.

“Jean, bring Marion to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

What a delightful day this was.

He wouldn’t need to tarnish the family name by marrying into a lowly family, and he could tie Maxim and Marion’s fates together, securing his own power in the process.

“It truly is a wonderful day,” Emil Borden said, his lips curling into a snake-like smile.

Marion Borden’s life was a tragedy.

It was a story with no upward trajectory, only a steady descent.

Before that incident, Marion had been a beautiful girl. Her crystal-clear blue eyes and long, glossy black hair had made her a child of rare beauty. Her bright smile and melodious voice could charm anyone who saw her. At not even ten years old, her future had seemed filled with promise.

The Borden family had no intention of rushing her into society. They planned to introduce her gradually, waiting until her youthful beauty was at its peak before presenting her at court. Many noble families had already set their sights on her as a potential match for their heirs.

But the girl destined to be the flower of the Borden family was consumed by fire.

The cause of the fire had been nothing extraordinary.

It had been the coldest winter in years, with record-breaking snowstorms sweeping through the kingdom. While cleaning, a maid had carelessly hung a cloth too close to the fireplace. The weather had been dry, and a stray spark from the hearth caught the cloth, quickly setting it ablaze.

The fire spread rapidly throughout the house. Unfortunately, the only person home at the time was Marion, just seven years old.

The house didn’t burn down completely. None of the servants, not even the maid who had accidentally set the fire, were harmed.

But the flames had consumed the room where Marion had been.

She hadn’t been able to escape in time. A servant had dragged her out of the burning house, but she hadn’t escaped unscathed.

When Marion awoke, she was in a private clinic. Through the haze of pain, she overheard the conversation between the doctor and her father.

“She survived, but… her right side… it’s badly burned.”

Marion hadn’t understood what the doctor meant. All she knew was that she was in agony. The burns on her right shoulder, arm, and face were so painful that she couldn’t stop crying. Through her blurred vision, she saw her father, Emil Borden, standing at the foot of her bed.

“Father…”

Her voice was weak, little more than a child’s sob. Emil glanced at her.

“Father…?”

Their eyes met, and Emil said, in the coldest voice Marion had ever heard,

“She’s ruined.”

The words struck Marion like a dagger. Through the haze of pain, she heard him say it again.

“She’s ruined.”

Emil chuckled bitterly and turned away.

“Lord Borden, your daughter—”

“That’s enough. Do what you can.”

“There are potions we can use, but they’ll be less effective now.”

“I said that’s enough.”

Marion stared in disbelief as her father left the room.

When had the tragedy truly begun?

Marion lay there, staring up at the ceiling. She realized then that this was only the beginning of her nightmare.

When the Borden estate was rebuilt, there was no room for Marion. Her brothers barely acknowledged her, simply pleased that a potential rival had been removed from the family.

“This will be your room,” her father had said, showing her to a small, windowless room tucked away in the farthest corner of the house.

The beloved young girl was gone, replaced by a disfigured shadow.

Her mother, unable to defy Emil’s will, offered Marion only small comforts in secret. She dared not show affection openly.

“You don’t think you look hideous?”

“Always wear your gloves and mask, whether you’re in the house or not.”

Her father, never a kind man, had completely abandoned any semblance of parental care after the fire.

It was a horrible existence. The servants who had once doted on her were gone, replaced by cold, mechanical attendants who avoided looking her in the eye. When they did, the fleeting pity in their gaze was unbearable.

She lived as though dead.

She rarely left her room, spoke little during meals, and spent most of her days tending to flowers in the estate’s garden or reading in the library.

The few conversations she had were with her tutor, an elderly woman. But apart from that, Marion was alone—completely and utterly alone.

“I’ll be sold off one day,” she would say to her tutor.

Her voice wasn’t filled with bitterness or despair but with fear. The tutor would always try to comfort her.

“Your father thinks I’m useless.”

“Stay strong, Lady Marion,” the tutor would say, trying to calm her.

Marion knew well that there were nobles with twisted tastes. The frightening stories she had overheard as a child still haunted her.

She spent her days hoping for salvation, even as she pretended not to want it.

On the day everything changed, Marion was sitting by the window, staring out at the garden. She wore her mask, even though she was alone. Her right hand reached up to touch her face, but all she could feel was the hard, cold surface of the mask.

Knock, knock.

“Lady Marion, it’s Jean.”

It was her father’s personal servant. Marion gave him permission to enter.

“What is it?”

Her voice was soft, barely audible. But Jean, ever the capable servant, understood her perfectly.

“Your father has summoned you.”

Marion’s left eyebrow twitched slightly beneath her mask. She followed Jean down the hall, her heart heavy with unease. Had her father ever summoned her like this before?

When she reached his study, she stood still behind the door Jean held open for her.

Her father was seated at his desk, looking at her with the same cold eyes she had always known.

“Sit down.”

She did as she was told, sitting on the sofa near the bookshelf. For what felt like an eternity, the only sound in the room was the scratching of her father’s pen against paper. Finally, he stood and approached her.

“Your fiancé has been decided.”

Marion’s face went pale.

“He is the son of Baron Appart, recently graduated from the knight academy.”

“Father… I…”

Emil Borden fixed her with a steely glare.

“Marion, how much longer do you plan to act like a child?”

Her mouth snapped shut.

“Prepare to meet him tomorrow.”

“…Yes.”

With that, Emil dismissed her.

Marion felt her heart sink.

Was this the beginning of a greater tragedy, or perhaps her salvation?

She returned to her room, removed her mask, and wept.

She had no idea what expression she was supposed to wear.

The next day arrived, and though Marion had barely slept, she was dressed and prepared to meet her fiancé.

The maids had done their best to make her presentable. It was the first time in her life she had received such care, and yet it was for the worst possible occasion.

Marion stared at her reflection in the mirror.

There she was, mask on her face, her long black hair combed neatly down her back. She wore a white dress, her face expressionless, her eyes empty. She had the hollow look of someone resigned to their fate.

Her right hand, covered in a white glove, reached up to touch the mirror. She hated mirrors. They revealed too much.

There was a knock at the door.

“Lady Marion, may I come in?”

She gave a short, quiet reply, allowing the visitor to enter.

The door opened, and the person standing on the other side was—

A man with light brown hair and golden eyes, whose gaze seemed to mirror the same despair she felt.