Chapter 0 - [Prologue]

She answered with an expressionless face, and soon, raised her arms up again and slapped the man's left cheek, as if he was a mere fly.

"This time, I sprained my wrist."

Her indifferent tone shook the man's goat-like mustache.

"W-Why are you doing this, Princess Deborah?"

She crept her lips to the man's question.

"I told you that my hand slipped on its own. And, by the way, your face is full of oil. Wipe it well."

Deborah pulled out her handkerchief and threw it to the Baron, and without mercy, she turned and walked away.

A breathtaking silence followed after.

'Oh my goodness.'

'Who the hell invited that scary woman to the party?'

Everyone in the hall was taken aback by the princess' actions, but there was no aristocrat who stood up and rebuked her. But instead, they just talked behind her back, as if they were scared of the consequences that may result.

She is the daughter of Duke Seymour, who is just as merciless as her. The possible aftermath is too painful that no one dared to offend the princess.

Whether or not the timing was bad, the waltz began to run through in the rigid atmosphere.

Not receiving any dance request, Deborah Seymour walked to a table lined with champagne. Then, she gulped the wine like a person who lived in the back alley.

Having emptied three glasses of champagne in an instant, she folded her arms with an arrogant look on her face.

It was a gesture that made her seem like someone who should not be trampled upon by any noble here.

In the end, Mrs. Ripley Felice, who has a big heart, wasn't able to stand her behavior.

Mrs. Ripley moved slowly, carefully thinking of the proper advice she should say to Princess Deborah.

"Lady Deborah. I have something to tell you."

Mrs. Ripley called Princess Deborah while fancily fanning herself.

The princess moved her red fan with a cold face.

Upon looking at her closely, Mrs. Ripley saw the design of a snake with two heads embroidered on the princess' fan.

'Ugh, disgusting…!'

Mrs. Ripley managed to swallow the scream that came all the way to her neck.

Most ladies embroider an image of flowers and birds on their fans, but she carries a fan with a snake on it.

Come to think of it, there was a snake with two heads in the seal of Seymour's household. Is it a warning saying that no person should dare to trick the family members of the Seymour household, else they'd meet their end?

"Speak."

Princess Deborah's tone was cold enough to make her tremble in fear.

"I..."

Directly facing her bloody red eyes, Mrs. Ripley Felice was horrified to the point that she swallowed dryness realizing it.

"Pr-Princess. I know that drinking too much is not good for one's health."

"...…"

"I'm worried about your health. You understand me, don't you? Th-That's all. Please enjoy the party."

Mrs. Ripley put an end to their conversation shortly, stepped backward, and quickly walked away.

'….What? I was nervous because of you.'

Deborah sighed as soon as Mrs. Ripley disappeared. The hand she was using to fan herself was sweating coldly.

'That was a good scare.'

Deborah drank another glass of champagne to suppress the strain on her neck.

In fact, Deborah Seymour was timid, despite her notoriety.

More precisely, Yoon Do-hee, who possessed Deborah Seymour's body, was timid.

'I shouldn't let all my efforts go to waste. I'm not going to live as peacefully as I am now if my secret is revealed.'

Deborah bit her red lips tightly.

'You don't have to be guilty. The Baron is a cheap man that needs to be beaten more often.'

Baron Marco, who was slapped with a fan by her, was not only unfaithful to his wife but is also a bad person for breaking his pregnant wife's leg by pushing her down the stairs.

However, no one will care about this kind of situation as the crowd has been distracted by my harsh looks and actions.

'Good, it's going as planned.'

Looking at the expressions from this side, it seemed that Deborah's harsh reputation was well-maintained today.

'I'm going to keep living my luxurious and peaceful life as a wicked woman.'

I can't be viewed as a pushover.

She clenched her fists tightly.