“Yes, Bianca del Castana. Over the past 40 days, did you enjoy playing lovers? After kidnapping Young Lord Cain by force, playing tricks with his mind, and sitting beside him—who doesn’t remember anything—pretending to be his lover, were you truly that happy?”
“Sit beside him, introduce yourself as his lover, claim his smile all to yourself, and share everything with him. Do you really believe you are his wife? If so, it must be utterly disgusting. Don’t you think so too, Bianca del Castana?”
Aria’s voice, filled with mockery, echoed through the vast space.
Despite having only one audience—Bianca—her words made Bianca feel as though she were naked and humiliated before a crowd.
“…”
The resolution she had once firmly held onto began to waver.
Hadn’t she made a solemn vow the day she left him, without regret, that any further ‘false engagement’ was meaningless?
Hadn’t she promised herself that she would win him by any means necessary, creating a future with him regardless of public opinion or criticism?
But now, as Bianca listened to Aria’s cutting words, her heart ached as though pierced by sharp blades.
The things Aria criticized—the weak, flawed parts of her—were the very things Bianca had tried so hard to ignore.
“So, how did it feel? Oh, it must have felt exhilarating. To snatch back the man who rejected and left you, while I watched it all unfold. Surely, it must have been a thrill—a forbidden joy that ordinary people could never taste in their lifetime. Isn’t that right?”
“What you’ve done is truly abhorrent. Manipulating someone’s memories, pretending to be their lover, exchanging affection as if it were mutual—it’s vile. Bianca del Castana, what you did to Young Lord Cain was nothing more than selfish, one-sided obsession. That is not love. It’s an act so grotesque, it makes me sick.”
Every word Aria spoke struck Bianca like a dagger to the chest.
Yes. Aria wasn’t wrong.
Everything she said was true.
Bianca was, as Aria described, a pitiful woman—a woman who had never been truly loved, and therefore didn’t know how to love.
Ever since that day, thirty years ago, she had longed for Cain with a desperation that bordered on madness. She had deceived him, manipulated him, and done whatever it took to stay by his side.
She knew better than anyone that tampering with Cain’s memories to secure his affection was unforgivable—a sin so grave it could damn her to the depths of hell.
But…even so, there was one thing Aria said that Bianca could not accept.
While Aria’s accusations were largely true, the love she and Cain had shared last night was not a lie.
Cain, at that moment, had regained all his memories. He knew the full truth—why he was there and what had happened.
And yet, Cain had forgiven her. He had accepted her presence, shared his warmth, and made love to her of his own free will.
Bianca could still vividly recall the events of the previous night: his gentle touch, his care, and his love.
He had treated her with a mix of tenderness and passion, but every action had carried undeniable warmth.
Bianca knew his feelings were genuine.
Thus, she could never acknowledge Aria’s claim that it was all a facade. She could accept being called disgusting, but she refused to let anyone degrade what she and Cain shared. For if she admitted Aria was right, it would be like denying Cain’s feelings and the love he had shown her.
Above all, she would not allow anyone to insult the man she loved—Cain von Estel. Especially not a woman like Aria, whom she despised most in the world.
“…You’re awfully proud for someone who knows nothing,” Bianca growled, her voice laced with fury. “Mocking me without understanding the truth—do you not realize your words are the root of all calamities?”
Aria, unfazed, let out a derisive snort.
“Look who’s talking, Bianca del Castana. Your tongue is as sharp as ever.”
“Oh, and yours isn’t? You claim to be so intelligent, yet at the mere mention of Cain and I being in love, you bark like a dog that lost a fight.”
“Pretending to be a victor when you’ve used nothing but dirty tricks? How pitiful,” Bianca retorted sharply.
Aria resisted the urge to lash out physically, instead delivering her final words with icy disdain.
“Let me give you one last piece of advice. A woman like you has no place by the Young Lord’s side. It’s inevitable—someone as unstable as you will only bring him harm in the end.”
“…What?”
Bianca’s eyes burned with fury at Aria’s words.
The already tense atmosphere between them grew thick with murderous intent.
“Dangerous? You think I could be a danger to him?”
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Check out my other projects: Rehabilitating the Villainess, Pushover Extra Trains the Villainesses, My Wife is the Devil, Transmigrated as the Butler of a Defeated Heroine, My Summons Are Special