The Lady You Want to Kill

She said it’s the dress she wants to wear. Beatrice, who hadn’t really thought about it before, looked down at the designs again, lost in thought. Not knowing what was going on inside her head, Agatha added one more remark, interpreting her daughter’s attitude in her own way.

“No one will judge you based on something like that,” Agatha assured her.

Rather than saying no one would, it was more like she will make sure no one does. Hearing their conversation from the side, Valet understood perfectly well. However, Beatrice interpreted it as Agatha advising her to choose a more trendy and conventional design, so she nodded in response.

She then selected a design that exposed her neck and shoulders and removed the intricate lace. The style of emphasizing the upper body and decorating the skirt portion extravagantly might be in fashion from this year onwards, so it wasn’t a bad choice.

Thinking Beatrice chose the dress based on her preferences rather than the current trends, Agatha nodded in approval.

“So, you will keep the top design like this?”

“Yes.”

“What about the skirt? The lace?”

“Please remove as much lace as possible,” Beatrice quietly interjected.

“What about the lace?”

“It’s uncomfortable.”

“Alright then. Madam, remove as much lace as possible.”

Valet’s head spun upon hearing the order. If they removed as much lace as possible from the top part, they would have to attach a lot of it to the lower part to avoid an incomplete look.

However, when Agatha requested to remove lace even from the hemline, it became challenging to figure out how to create the dress. There was a way, but it would require a lot of effort and time. Agatha seemed to know this, as she added more words.

“Money is not a problem. Even if we have to hire more staff to complete it, I want it done. Charge all the fees to me.”

“Of course, we will make sure it’s completed!” Valet assured.

Before the impossible, there was nothing in front of Lady Amber. Even if they had to hire new staff and charge all the expenses to the Duchess, Valet enthusiastically nodded in agreement.

If they were to remove the lace, the dress would need to be adorned with embroidery and jewels one by one. Decorating the dress with jewels and intricate embroidery would undoubtedly increase its cost significantly. However, for the Amber family, who owned diamond and gold mines and managed profitable businesses, such expenses were not a concern.

Valet calculated everything in her mind while wearing the kindest smile anyone could offer. Beatrice selected the design for the hemline and then opened the fabric book.

Valet realized that in this transaction, it was crucial to please the Duchess’ daughter rather than the Duchess herself. So, she stood by her side, alternating between explaining trendy materials and comfortable ones.

Agatha sat on the sofa, leaning against it, quietly observing the situation. She would dismiss anything she deemed excessive but wanted to make the dress as close to what Beatrice desired as possible.

After a moment of watching the situation, Laura approached Agatha cautiously. When Agatha barely turned her head, Laura leaned down and whispered something in her ear. Agatha’s lips subtly curved up in response to Laura’s words.

“So that’s what happened.”

Although Beatrice had expected Agatha to hear about the incident with Felix and the recent events in the waiting room, she could not have anticipated the anger that Agatha would feel.

After returning to the mansion, Agatha decided that she would have to give her second son a good scolding. She also mulled over other matters.

The daughters of a Marquis, a Viscount, and a Baron. If they were daughters of the Marquis or the Viscount, she might not have known, but being the daughter of a Baron, she was aware. The young lady was the same age as Beatrice, debuting at the age of seventeen and recently gaining popularity.

She was beautiful, quick-witted, and intelligent—an heiress whose stock had risen in recent times. Agatha herself had not underestimated her. But now, the situation has changed, and her evaluation of the girl might differ.

Of course, she couldn’t openly trample on a young lady in high society, behaving like a grown-up. The reason she had been neglecting Beatrice in her household was partly her responsibility. So, she thought she might need to intervene, but ever so slightly, to gently steer things in the right direction.

After all their errands were done, Agatha and Beatrice returned to the mansion. Choosing the dress design, matching the shoes and jewels—it was all quite a taxing process, even for a physically fit Beatrice.

Although it didn’t take a toll on her body, constantly focusing on something she had no interest in left her mentally exhausted.

Agatha couldn’t help but smile at Beatrice’s slightly melancholic demeanor. She took her tired daughter back to her room and instructed the butler to send Felix to her once he returned. Then, Agatha returned to her study.

April passed by in the blink of an eye. Regardless of the pace of time, Beatrice was experiencing days that were more peaceful than any other life.

During this time, Felix, who seemed completely different, came to apologize. Beatrice tried on the dress personally brought by the designer and sent the design-related matters to her partner, Duke Marquez. She invited Flora to the Duke’s residence a few more times and enjoyed tea time together.

As the debutante ball approached, there were tasks and preparations that Beatrice needed to attend to, but she calmly and nonchalantly let time pass by.

Beatrice thought about the upcoming debutante ball. This year, with the seventeen-year-old princess debuting, almost all attention would be on her, and other young ladies would hardly get noticed—except for one.

Beatrice placed her teacup down and tapped the table gently. She was sitting by the window, following Laura’s suggestion, sipping her tea.

Spring was now in full bloom, and if she opened the window, warm sunlight and refreshing breeze would come in. The garden’s trees and flowers were in full bloom, brimming with vitality—a stark contrast to Beatrice’s mood.

Beatrice knew that she needed to stand out at the upcoming debutante ball for one simple reason—the hidden library somewhere within the royal palace. To gain access to that place, one might need to marry into the royal bloodline.

In the royal family, there was a twenty-five-year-old prince. In truth, if he were a typical prince, he would already have a princess, but for some reason, he had not yet been engaged to anyone.

Various rumors circulated about him, but no one could say for sure who the prince’s lover was. Most of these relationships seemed to be short-lived affairs, ending almost as quickly as they began.

Beatrice had been married several times over the years, but she never had a child. Despite her husbands’ attempts to persuade or threaten her into having relationships, no one could force her into anything. It was like a battle between a lion and a rabbit, and no one could beat her. She firmly refused to have children.

However, one way to keep the prince close was to become pregnant with his child. She had no love for the prince, so whether he loved her or not didn’t matter. The problem was that the degree of affection determined the power within the royal family. Who the prince eventually married would influence her position within the royal household. As she thought about the past, Beatrice gazed down at her teacup, lost in contemplation.

In this debutante ball, two women were attracting attention: the princess and Lady Seitlin, who had a relatively low status but garnered interest due to her stunning beauty and famous partner.

She would later marry the prince. And her debutante ball partner was…

“Francis.”

If nothing changes, he is a man who would unconditionally lead her to death. Laura glanced at her softly murmuring companion, but she fixed her gaze on her teacup as if saying nothing.

Like the dark entanglement she had with Duke Marquez, she wondered if he, too, had transformed into something slightly different now.

That man, with an expression as dry as hers, used to exude only disdain and disgust. How would he look at her during the debutante ball? Beatrice made a gesture, signaling for more tea. Laura quietly cleared away the teapot and cups.

Her thoughts, one after another, came to a halt with the wind blowing in from outside. It was all so bothersome. Everything felt pointless.

When will she be able to die? She looked at the world with vacant yellow eyes. As those sentiments began to settle in, all strength left her body.

It was still broad daylight, but Beatrice changed her clothes and took one of the pills she had prepared, using the excuse that she couldn’t sleep. Crawling into bed, she flipped the covers over herself, ignoring Laura’s penetrating gaze and closed her eyes. Such feelings of helplessness often came unexpectedly, but she knew they would pass eventually.

Beatrice didn’t wake up until evening. It wasn’t her own doing; she woke up because of a maid who came to tell her to come for dinner, summoned by Laura.

Her slowly rising yellow eyes shone momentarily like those of a beast in the darkness but soon returned to their human form. Getting up from her seat, Beatrice asked Laura to get her a shawl to wear over her dress, which she had changed into as her nightwear.

Even among family, such attire would be considered impolite, but no one in this household remained to criticize her appearance, not after the Duchess remained silent, causing her two sons and the servants to keep their mouths shut as well.

Following Laura, who still had a slightly sleepy expression, they arrived at the dining room, where three people sat side by side, looking like they had just finished work and came to the dining room.

“We’re a bit late.”

“No, you came right on time.”

With hesitant steps, Beatrice took her seat. Calex furrowed his brow slightly, and Agatha looked at her with a hint of curiosity.

“Where does it hurt, Beatrice?”

“Oh, no. There’s no specific pain anywhere. It’s just that sometimes I feel like this, so don’t worry too much.”

“Sometimes like this? Are you feeling unwell?”

“Just…”

Beatrice felt a bit annoyed having to explain her condition in this situation. In the past, nobody ever asked her such questions, and it bothered her to have to open up and speak about it now.

However, to maintain the image of being a well-behaved and kind youngest daughter, she had to answer. So she opened her mouth and replied, “Sometimes, there are moments when I don’t feel like doing anything at all.”

Beatrice released the tension from her body and slumped in her chair, gazing down at the table.

“Even eating and breathing, everything feels tiresome.”