Prologue
“Throw the baby away! Just toss it!”
The man shouted again at the woman in a furious voice. In the pouring rain, a single carriage raced precariously through the streets of Londinium.
“She’s going to die anyway! She’s the one they’re after!”
“No, please. Just leave her in front of any orphanage. Please.”
Behind the man holding the reins, a terrified woman clutched a bundle of cloth tightly to her chest. Rain-soaked black hair clung ominously to her forehead.
“Give her to me!”
As the man reached out roughly to snatch the baby, the woman screamed.
“N-no! The baby!”
The man brought the carriage to a sudden halt. The woman hugged the baby tightly.
“If you leave her here, she’ll die.”
“Worry about yourself. If we keep that child, we’re finished too.”
Sobbing, the woman gently laid the baby down at the entrance of a convent. The man tried to force the crying woman back into the carriage.
“Just a moment. The letter…”
The woman took a sealed letter from her bosom and pressed it into the baby’s tiny hand. When the baby’s eyes met hers, she broke into a wide, innocent smile.
The pounding rain soaked the letter, and blue ink bled onto the baby’s pink fingers.
“Hurry up and get in!”
The woman rummaged through her pocket and placed a necklace around the baby’s neck, then kissed her softly on the forehead.
“Elizabeth, my baby, you must survive. Dear God, please hear my prayer…”
Before she could finish, the thunderous sound of approaching hooves echoed behind them.
“Martha!”
The man shouted. The woman grabbed a stone from a flowerbed and hurled it at the convent window. At the sound of breaking glass, she hurriedly climbed back into the carriage.
“Please… take her in.”
Chapter 1
The Hotel Beside the Convent
It was a clear day beneath a high, refreshing sky.
Lily paused on her walk, gazing at the hotel under construction.
Workers scrubbed years of grime from the exterior walls. Skilled craftsmen planed the floors, carrying sacks of sawdust outside.
In the garden stood wrought-iron tables and chairs shaped in intricate lace-like patterns, and the bright red awning at the entrance looked cheerful.
It seemed the gas lamps mounted on the outer walls would soon be lit as well.
“Belmore Hotel”
Lily glanced at the hotel once more and snorted softly before stomping off.
The Belmore Hotel stood right next to Saint Margarita Convent, where Lily lived. With a little exaggeration, one could say you might climb out a window and cross between them.
In short, it was like a refined, handsome gentleman standing beside a gloomy rag-picker.
“Sister Brigida! Sister Bolina! Uncle Oliver! I’m back!”
The convent, which received no sunlight even at midday because of the hotel, was quiet. Tilting her head, Lily headed straight down to the basement and began organizing canned goods. With quick, practiced hands, each can fell neatly into place.
It was time to prepare snacks.
Lily picked up an empty basket and was about to head upstairs when she suddenly stopped.
Who is that?
A strange man was blocking the basement entrance, looking down at her. Seen from the steep basement stairs, he stood with the sun behind him, visible only as a silhouette.
Between the tall top hat, neatly combed hair glinted like golden thread.
When the tip of the man’s long shadow reached her feet, Lily instinctively stepped back. He was a man with exceptionally long legs.
Just as she was about to ask who he was, Sister Brigida’s raised voice echoed down the stairs.
“I know this land belongs to the Belmore family. But asking us to move the convent overnight? Are you planning to destroy the mural as well?”
It was rare to see Sister Brigida so agitated.
The gentleman said nothing, while an elderly priest beside him tried to calm her.
“Brigida, please don’t get so worked up. Didn’t Lord Belmore say he would relocate the convent?”
“Father, even you! Didn’t you say the most beautiful sacred painting in the country is here? We can’t leave this place.”
“He said he would find a way to preserve it…”
Crouched on the basement steps, Lily scribbled the scattered words she overheard onto the dust-covered stair beside her.
Threats. Archangel Gabriel. Preservation. Settlement money.
Her soot-stained fingers circled the words settlement money several times.
At that moment, the heated voices of the arguing nun and the mediating priest abruptly stopped.
Startled by the sudden silence, Lily looked up—and met the gaze of the strange man.
He was still looking down at her.
She tried to look straight back, but the harsh sunlight made her squint. He must be the one behind all this—the rumored Lord Belmore.
“Um… could you move, please?”
Summoning her courage, Lily spoke.
At the sound of her voice, the surroundings fell silent.
“My goodness, Elizabeth! How long have you been sitting there?”
A nun exclaimed in surprise, calling Lily by name. Only then did Lily rise, wiping the black smudges from her hands onto her apron.
“Everyone, please leave. The convent’s position has not changed.”
With a voice strained nearly to choking, Brigida pushed the uninvited guests out.
Only then did the man withdraw his gaze. Without a word, he disappeared into the sunlight like a fading shadow.
As the door closed, Lily ran up the stairs.
“Sister! What is all this about?”
She clenched the locket hanging around her neck. Blue veins stood out starkly against her pale wrist.
“A hotel not even a year old trying to destroy a mural that has survived centuries—it’s absurd. No matter how powerful Belmore is, this is wrong. Completely wrong.”
The mural depicted the golden Archangel Gabriel visiting Mary with a lily to announce the birth of Jesus. Though Mary’s shoulder was badly damaged, her gentle, beautiful face remained vivid.
“Where do they want to move the convent?”
“To East Longfell.”
Lily groaned at the answer. Belmore planned to dump the convent in a coastal village far from the capital.
“That’s impossible. My parents will never find me. This can’t be right.”
She had to stay here—only then might the family searching for her someday return.
“I’ll help, Sister. Belmore won’t get his way!”
Brigida watched Lily’s retreating figure with worry as she stormed off like a gust of wind.
“She’s smarter and calmer than we think. Don’t worry too much, Brigida.”
Sister Bolina said, patting her shoulder.
“That child sometimes acts like a popped bean. You never know what she’ll do.”
Bolina laughed, clearly agreeing.
* * *
From that day on, Lily practically lived in the library.
She meticulously recorded everything related to the Belmore Hotel and the Belmore family. She even forced herself to read impossibly thick law books.
Unaware that ink had smeared her nose, Lily buried her face in stacks of paper.
“Archibald Neil Belmore, holding the empire’s economy in his grasp?”
The man’s face in the old newspaper photo was blurry, but his arrogant expression remained clear.
Accumulated vast wealth through insurance, shipping, and postal investments…
A major power investor in newspapers, merchant fleets, and fine art…
Son: Rory Belmore. Newly born grandson: Arch.
Postal fraud or legitimate business?
The Vanderwoods and Belmore families locked in legal battle…
The two-page spread was remarkably detailed.
The Belmore family photograph radiated luxury. At the center stood Archibald N. Belmore, beside him his wife, his son Rory C. Belmore, and a frail noblewoman holding a tiny infant.
Without context, it looked like an ordinary aristocratic family portrait.
Who gave that man the right to trample over a convent?
Aristocrats seemed like the sort who only sought God when they were about to die—and spent their lives shutting Him out before then.
By the time sunlight stretched long through the library windows, her face flushed red, it was time to leave.
Lily packed her scrapbook and headed out.
* * *
The Belmore Hotel opened its doors for the first time that day.
While invited guests crowded the entrance, the hotel’s owner—“Belmore”—remained secluded in his penthouse office at the top floor.
“Lord Belmore, everyone’s asking when the main attraction will appear.”
“I don’t have a hobby of cutting ribbons with scissors.”
He replied without looking up from his work, addressing his secretary and lawyer, Rufus Ollivander.
“You’re starting to look scarier by the day—just like your grandfather. Working on a day like this?”
Rufus nodded toward a large portrait on the wall.
But the joke fell flat. Aside from jet-black hair and gray-blue eyes, the man in the portrait and the man before him bore little resemblance.
The young lord possessed deep-set eyes, a straight nose, and sharply defined lips—a sculpted beauty.
“I wish I had even half of my grandfather’s abilities.”
“Oh, you’ve surpassed him in some areas. That handsome face, for example—just like your fath—”
“I know exactly what you’re about to say. Stop there.”
He cut the joke short. Rufus sighed knowingly.
“It wasn’t me—it was Lady Norma who said it. Anyway, stop working and clear your head. Do you even know what rest is? At this rate, you’ll work yourself to death.”
“Not until the annex groundbreaking.”
“Well, it looks like the convent won’t move today, so at least go to the greenhouse. Or take a walk around the hotel pond.”
“……”
“You need rest, my lord.”
At Rufus’s relentless nagging, Christopher finally looked up and set down his pen.
The pond wasn’t ideal, but the greenhouse would keep him away from bothersome guests.
“While I rest, you work. Don’t even think about running away.”
Rufus was about to leave cheerfully, then let out a deep sigh. Christopher raised an eyebrow in warning.
“Yes, yes, of course.”
“The convent will be relocated as planned. Convincing the nuns is merely for appearances.”
He handed Rufus a thick stack of documents and put on his jacket. Tailored perfectly to his solid frame, it only emphasized his striking presence.
“You still have to attend the banquet later.”
Instead of answering, he tapped the documents on his desk.
Rufus flipped through paperwork that should’ve been Christopher’s and muttered at his retreating back.
“I mean, seriously—this is way too much work. No blood, no tears. A genius… in the worst way.”
