The Butterfly That Swallowed the Fog
“This…!”
“What? Do you want to swing?”
Tilia’s eyes burned with unyielding defiance even before a man whose head was a full size larger than hers. Instead of backing down, she met his glare with a smooth, mocking smile, her vivid green eyes sparkling like emerald blades.
“You’re trembling because you’re chasing after someone who might reach where I stand, yet you dare swing? If you do, it’ll be straight to expulsion.”
Though she hadn’t heard Gregory’s boastful plan, Tilia had pieced together his true motive with razor precision.
“Don’t worry. Your trash talk won’t reach the ears of the noble Gregory, the one you fear so much. Instead.”
At the mere mention of her father, Tilia spoke to him with deceptive gentleness, her voice like silk over steel.
“You should apologize.”
“……What?”
“Apologize. Or admit you’re no better than a dog rooting through garbage.”
At that moment, Gregory Myers finally realized the danger. He should never have spoken to her in the first place. He should have turned away the instant she threw the first insult. He should never have let himself be dragged into the game of this infamous, impoverished baron’s daughter.
Damn it.
Even if he couldn’t help the others, Gregory knew Tilia Ambrose was someone who could talk back. He frantically scanned the surroundings, desperately searching for a savior to pull him from this mess.
But the only ones nearby were onlookers who had come to watch the spectacle, and none of them were willing to help.
“What are you doing?”
Tilia’s voice carried the weight of a command that left no room for argument.
“Still hesitating? By the way, I’m fine with you hitting me. If one punch ends your long probation and sends you straight to expulsion, that’s all I need. Hit me, Gregory.”
“You…!”
At the taunt, Gregory’s temper finally snapped. His fist trembled with barely contained rage when a voice cut through the air like salvation itself.
“Stop, Gregory.”
In his ear came the voice he longed to hear—the voice of rescue.
Tilia turned her head. There she was—Cecilia Clayton, the eldest daughter of the Marquis Clayton, sweeping her vibrant red hair like the rose of May as she descended the staircase.
She was the lifeline Gregory had craved more than anything.
“Cecilia!”
“Why are you so desperate to devour a lady, Gregory?”
While Gregory’s face lit up with pure delight, Cecilia’s blue eyes gleamed with unmistakable displeasure.
“I’m ashamed to face Father.”
She continued speaking with the authority of the eldest daughter of the Clayton family, who had long been friends with Myers.
“What are you doing? Get lost already.”
“T-Tilia, thanks to you, I’m alive!”
Gregory, looking like a man who had just met his savior, fled with a scrawny villain’s rant.
“Are you all right, Tilia?”
Tilia’s gaze lingered on Gregory’s retreating back before she turned to Cecilia’s voice.
“I must have scared you.”
Click. The expensive leather shoes with jeweled buckles stopped right beside her faded flats.
“What can I do? Men are naturally stupid. Just bear with it.”
Cecilia’s deep-blue eyes softened with a gentle smile, like a clear sky over the sea.
Her striking red hair contrasted sharply with those clear, icy eyes. The smile that graced her flawless features was, without a doubt, as beautiful as the name “Blue Rose of the Sea” suggested.
The moment Cecilia arrived, the spectators around them, who had been waiting for drama, suddenly lost interest and looked away.
‘…How unfortunate.’
Yet beneath the gentle expression on Cecilia’s face as she stared at Tilia, a subtle crack of jealousy ran like a thin fissure.
‘She’s a problem.’
Cecilia secretly scanned Tilia from head to toe, her gaze lingering on the ill-fitting gray uniform, the basic buttons and ribbon, even the unpolished shoes.
She felt a flicker of pity for the proud girl who stood there defiantly.
Tilia Ambrose. A girl with neither money nor connections, nor even cunning. An ignorant fool who believed that studying hard and graduating in second place would be enough.
‘Why does she live so painfully? She must know there are easier, surer paths.’
From the ragged uniform, Cecilia’s gaze lifted to the pale, delicate face of the girl before her.
…So this is his type?
Instantly, Cecilia’s eyes narrowed as she recalled the man who had been staring intently at the library corridor earlier.
Even with mixed motives, her sharp assessment was no different. Those first impressions—flawless skin and refined features—were enough to draw the interest of many men without a single word.
Her jet-black hair, though not the preferred color in the kingdom, still gleamed with a lustrous sheen, and her vivid green eyes, rebellious yet captivating, held undeniable allure.
It was truly pitiful.
A girl so incredibly intelligent, yet blind to reality.
‘Instead of wasting herself on useless effort, she should use other weapons.’
Even if Tilia graduated second in the academy, this was a society bound by rank.
Even if the world shook, she would never rise higher than Gregory Myers.
With those thoughts finished, Cecilia asked Tilia in her gentle voice.
“Tilia, going to study again?”
“Yes. It’s exam season.”
“Truly the model student. Seeing you study makes me jealous.”
“And yet you’ll get top grades. See you later, Cecilia.”
“…Wait a moment, Tilia.”
Before turning fully, Tilia heard Cecilia’s impulsive voice.
“What will you do after graduation?”
If she had asked this to another noble lady, it would have been horribly rude. But for Tilia, it was different.
No one in the kingdom was unaware of how the Ambrose family was crumbling.
Unperturbed, Tilia tilted her head curiously.
“And then?”
“The female secretary in our marquisate’s estate office got married this time.”
Cecilia’s eyes sparkled with joy.
“So a position has opened up in our estate. If I give you a recommendation, you can apply there… How does that sound?”
Although she felt a slight unease at the idea of bringing this girl into the family’s domain, it was far better than leaving her destitute in the capital.
Cecilia offered it with a gentle, gracious smile.
“It’s much better to work as a secretary in the marquisate than as a governess in some other household.”
Stopping halfway, Tilia turned completely around to face her.
Sunlight struck straight down, illuminating her long black hair and pale face. Her intense green eyes had become slightly translucent in the harsh light, but her jet-black hair seemed to absorb the rays, growing even darker.
“Thank you, Cecilia.”
“It’s nothing. We should help each other out as fellow academy students.”
“Thank you, but I’ll consider it later. If my grades drop.”
“Have a wonderful day.”
With a bright smile, Tilia turned away without hesitation, the way she always did.
Behind her, Judy Wells—her ever-present, invisible shadow—hurried along, struggling to keep pace.
‘Amazing. She really does have a prideful streak.’
Cecilia watched Tilia’s worn uniform, then let out a cold, bitter laugh.
‘How stupid.’
So she clung to the position of scholar as if it were the only thing she had.
Feeling guilty for the pity she had shown earlier, Cecilia quickly turned away.
But even then, she could not shake the thought of that impoverished girl, no matter how much she tried.
A moment earlier, in the library corridor where Tilia had been heading, a figure with jet-black hair like ebony stood beneath the row of plane trees.
‘…No way.’
Cecilia shook her head with a cynical laugh at her own overreaction.
Countless people had passed through that corridor.
It was pure speculation that she had seen a woman with such audacity.
After all, Elex Davenport would never be the type to stare at someone’s back.
And that was exactly why he would.
Cecilia stood there for a moment in contemplation before breaking into a cold smile and walking away without another thought.
***
“Ugh. Gregory Myers is just an animal, right? The kind of lowlife who hangs around with trash and has a reputation for it!”
Throughout the walk to the library, Judy had been observing Tilia’s reaction until she finally exploded into a tirade against Gregory.
“That idiot probably doesn’t even know what’s going on. He’s been chasing after every woman he sees. He might have flirted with just one, but the moment he hears a name, he’s spouting it off!”
Fists clenched, Judy glanced sideways at Tilia’s expression.
“So… you know, Tilia? You don’t have to feel hurt by what he said.”
“I’m not hurt.”
“When did Gregory ever say such awful things? If he had told me, I would have joined in on the insults….”
“I was too distracted studying for exams. And I really don’t remember.”
Judy’s face looked skeptical, but that was the truth as far as Tilia was concerned.
Unlike Judy, who worried for her friend, Gregory’s words had no effect on Tilia. Even Cecilia’s subtle attempt to poke at her wound had barely registered.
The words of nobles raised in luxury and privilege were far too blunt to wound Tilia.
“…Still, you must tell me next time. Promise?”
Her weak friend’s earnest words made Tilia respond with a mischievous smile instead of an answer.
“And what if I do?”
“We’ll go together and settle it! I’ll even curse him out!”
“You know how to curse?”
“Of course!”
Her naturally timid friend puffed out her chest like a brave knight, and Tilia couldn’t help but laugh at her cuteness.
“You damn bastard!”
“J-Judy!”
But before the vicious insult could continue, Tilia rushed forward and covered Judy’s mouth in panic.
“This is the library!”
“Oh, right.”
Startled by the vulgar words, Judy shrank back shyly, as if remembering herself.
“Where… did you learn that?”
“The guys taught me. So I can use it anywhere.”
Tilia asked with a bewildered expression, and Judy answered with a bright, cheerful smile.
Tilia had forgotten. Even though Judy seemed timid on the surface, she was the youngest daughter of the Wells family, whose knights produced fierce warriors.
“I’ll curse for you someday, all right, Tilia? Just trust me.”
Staring into her friend’s radiant eyes, Tilia couldn’t hold back and burst into laughter—a clear, beautiful sound that drew every lingering gaze once more.