RED STRING || 1

Chapter four.

“DAYS OF BEING in hell it is.” Irene muttered from upstairs, her voice laced with disdain as she watched Seulgi being escorted inside the mansion. The words barely left her lips, yet they seemed to echo throughout the vast, empty halls, a reflection of the disdain she felt toward the whole situation.

Seulgi was still taking in the grandeur of the mansion. She had never seen anything like it before—such opulence, such extravagance. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries, and the floor beneath her feet gleamed with a polished finish that almost seemed to shimmer. She couldn't help but feel out of place, but her thoughts were quickly interrupted by the maidservant who was carrying her luggage, walking quietly behind her.

“I can’t believe I’m staying here,” Seulgi giggled softly, her voice filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief. Her eyes were wide, glancing around the large entryway, as if the mansion itself was a dream she wasn’t sure was real. The maidservant, who had been silent up until now, smiled faintly in response.

“Making friends with slaves, too? Really, Kang Seulgi?” Irene’s voice was sharp, filled with contempt as she watched from the stairs, her eyes narrowing as she observed the scene below her. She didn’t like the way Seulgi seemed to be getting along so easily with the staff. It irked her, more than she was willing to admit.

Irene, always one to make a statement, decided it was time for a grand entrance. She was determined to remind Seulgi who was in charge here. Dressed in a white top, paired with a red blazer and skirt that screamed authority, Irene strode down the stairs. The movement was calculated, deliberate, every step measured for maximum impact. She wanted Seulgi to see her, to feel her presence, to know who was in control in this house.

Seulgi, her attention still distracted by the splendor of her surroundings, didn’t immediately notice Irene. But when she did, she smiled politely. “Good day, Irene,” Seulgi said, her tone cordial, but with an underlying innocence that made Irene bristle.

Irene, however, had no interest in pleasantries. She stopped mid-step, raised her finger, and placed it lightly on Seulgi’s lips as if to silence her.

“Miss,” Irene said, her voice a silky command, the word hanging heavily in the air. She was insistent. She needed Seulgi to address her properly, to show that she was the one in control. “Miss Irene would do.”

Seulgi, her brow furrowing in confusion and disbelief, shook her head slightly. “Miss? You’re going to be my wife,” she pointed out, her words laced with a certain incredulity. This wasn’t how she imagined things going.

“That’s right, but not yet,” Irene replied, her lips curling into a smirk. “So, Miss Irene would do for now.” It wasn’t just about the word—it was about the power that came with it. She wanted to feel superior, to remind Seulgi of her place in the hierarchy of things.

Seulgi, still trying to process everything, didn’t have much time to respond before Irene turned her gaze toward the maidservant who had been following Seulgi, still clutching her luggage.

“Put that down and let Miss Kang bring that up to her room,” Irene ordered, her tone dismissive. The maidservant hesitated, her eyes flicking nervously between Seulgi and Irene. The tension in the air was palpable. But Irene didn’t give her time to think. She shot the maidservant a look—a look so fierce that it was enough to send the poor woman scurrying away.

Seulgi, looking on with a mixture of disbelief and confusion, turned to the retreating maidservant and then back to Irene. “Why’d you do that for?” Seulgi asked, her voice tinged with both curiosity and mild annoyance. She couldn’t fathom why Irene was being so petty.

Irene smirked, her posture confident, her hands on her hips. “You know, rules are set in this household. I am the rule maker, and there’s nothing you can do,” she declared, her voice dripping with arrogance. The look on her face was one of fierce determination.