증오하는 그대 발등에 입맞춤

“You pushed me into this wretched pit for your revenge. I know that.”

At Agatha’s words, a cold smile crept onto Francis’s lips.

“So this is the real you, Francis?”

Agatha Dior, the pitiful woman left alone after the downfall of her once-prosperous family.

Agatha Dior, the unfortunate daughter of a man who, without a shred of responsibility, chose death the moment bankruptcy became inevitable.

To the woman burdened with such tragic titles, Francis Charpe had been a savior who gifted her paradise.

“You really do live in a foolish fairy tale.”

Never, not even in her worst nightmares, had she imagined that he was the very one who had orchestrated her family’s ruin.

“The fault lies in your s*upidity, in your inability to discern right from wrong because you’ve spent your whole life surrounded by nothing but comfort.”

Francis grasped Agatha’s chin, his cold laughter brushing against her skin.

“Welcome to paradise, Agatha.”

And that was when she finally understood.

That she and Francis were sworn enemies.

That she had recklessly, hopelessly fallen in love with him.