The Golden Thread and the Thorned Thread
The Goldren estate gleamed so brightly that it stung the eyes even from a distance.
It was not the elegant splendor wrapped around like a stage curtain for the mansions of true nobles.
That sort of finery simply did not suit the Goldren family.
It was nothing more than gold.
The sun-drenched outer walls shimmered, and every window frame, railing, pillar, and ornament carried the scent of gold.
The nobility had always laughed at the Goldren family behind their hands, calling them tacky.
But the moment they had to knock on these gates for money, that laughter had turned into defeat.
On the other hand, the common people had always envied this household.
Simply standing so blatantly in the open and still refusing to fall spoke of power itself.
And now.
In the highest floor of that dazzling estate—the private quarters reserved only for family—Angela Goldren lay half-buried under the blankets with a face as pale and lifeless as a corpse.
A thick notebook rested on the table beside the bed.
The secret strategy guide she had written herself.
The plot of the original novel **[Auto-Hunting Prince]**, every scrap of information she remembered, and even the modern-world knowledge she carried—all of it had been jotted down in these pages.
It used to be a treasure.
Until this morning, Angela had still thought so.
But now it was no longer a treasure.
It had become the root of her headache.
“Uuuu…”
Angela pulled the blanket up over half her face.
The novel had not even begun its main story yet.
She was not at the point where the heroine met the hero.
She was not at the point where the hero and villainess relationship had properly hardened.
Even the moment when the villainess would have properly connected with Ruang Caesar still lay far ahead.
Ruang needed more time to grow tired and soften the madness on his own.
But she had skipped all of it.
It had been too fast.
Too obvious.
Too blatantly tied to Ruang.
“I’m crazy… I’m truly insane…”
Angela mumbled from inside the blanket and touched her own throat.
A slender, fragile neck.
One that would snap if she applied even the slightest pressure.
There had clearly been such a scene in the original story.
In the densely detailed section where the heroine would try to strangle the saintess to death with her own hands.
Ruang had been away at the time, giving the villainess the perfect opening.
Reading that scene had always left her chest tight.
But now it was different.
It was far past tight.
Her heart was pounding wildly inside her chest like a madman.
‘If Ruang is right and the rumors are already everywhere… as soon as the villainess arrives in the capital, she’s going to come looking for me first?’
The original story had stages.
First, Ruang performed confession to the saintess.
Then the saintess treated Ruang’s condition.
Only then, under the official duty of the church, did they meet.
At that stage, rumors would not spread.
It was official contact.
The real problem began afterward.
They would meet privately.
The nobles would sense something wrong.
Gossip would travel mouth to mouth.
And eventually the villainess herself would come to verify their relationship.
But Angela had skipped every single stage.
From the villainess’s perspective, she was simply a suddenly appearing suspicious woman.
“Uuuu… Your Highness, I’m so sorry… You’re the most beautiful person in the world. Please, just let me live…”
Angela finally buried her face in the blanket and curled up into a tight ball.
She looked exactly like a snail.
In truth, Angela had always been bold.
She had carved out her own life, used modern knowledge, and built a cosmetics workshop.
But even that was only within her own territory.
Making and selling cosmetics.
Running her workshop.
Rolling out money and researching products.
Those things Angela could do.
Noble politics, however, was an entirely different battlefield.
Until yesterday she had been an extra who did not even appear in the novel—chatting with Bianca for a few sentences and already feeling her nerves fray.
She had never once believed she could win head-on.
She had no choice but to admit it.
She could handle business.
She could not handle noble politics.
Even the memory of the moment she had faced her father last night kept flashing before her eyes.
“Ah… Father…”
“Come in.”
“Huh?”
“Take your time. I’ll wait.”
It was not punishment.
It was not anger.
He had simply turned her away calmly.
That had been far scarier.
Angela had never seen her father like that before.
And that was why she was even more terrified.
Could one mistake of hers shake the entire family?
“Uuuu…”
That was when.
Knock.
“Miss, guests have arrived.”
“G-Guests?”
Angela poked her face out from under the blanket.
Guests?
There was no one she could call a friend in her life.
The merchants she worked with were Father’s people, not friends of Angela herself.
She had no school friends.
The noble ladies she had met at school were all unlucky in one way or another, and she had never befriended anyone from the salon circles.
In short, she was a loner in noble society.
Yet guests?
While Angela stared in confusion, the maids moved with lightning speed.
They bathed her.
Fixed her hair.
Applied makeup.
Changed her clothes.
Before she could even regain her senses, the perfect outgoing young lady was complete.
Even Iron Man would have been jealous of this transformation speed.
Almost pushed along like a wave, Angela arrived at the reception room.
The moment she stepped inside, she lost her words.
“Who…?”
“Hello, Miss Goldren.”
“Eh? Bianca…?”
“Are you already calling me by name?”
Bianca Lascaci held a teacup with elegant grace.
“Well, that’s fine. You’ve already repaid me enough.”
The sight before her was completely different from yesterday.
There was not a trace of the shaken, humiliated girl from the banquet.
Her back was straight, her gaze steady, her fingertips on the teacup perfectly calm.
It was noble.
One word summed it up.
And at the same time.
In Angela’s mind, the information she had heard yesterday flashed across her brain like lightning.
The Lascaci Marquis.
A family of the Maneuvering Faction that could shake the empire with a single intrigue.
The commanding presence that had gripped everyone at the banquet.
The boldness to step forward first when others hesitated.
And—
Golden-blonde drill hair.
Yes.
Drill hair.
The symbol of the villainess.
The moment she saw it, Angela’s eyes changed completely.
And she did not hesitate.
“Eh, ah?”
“Biancaaaa…!!!”
“Wait a second?! What is this—?!”
Angela rushed straight at Bianca.
She clung to her like a person dangling from a cliff edge, gripping the last lifeline.
To Angela, Bianca was no longer just Bianca.
She was the only diplomatic route left to save herself.
To pry Angela away from Bianca, three maids were needed.
It had been an extremely difficult task.
When a person did not want to die, they suddenly found strange strength.
Normally, they would not even be able to lift a finger, yet they resisted with all their might.
That was exactly where Angela was now.
Bianca had been frozen for a moment by the unexpected intensity.
Now, after barely finishing her proper attire, taking a sip of warm tea, and calming her breathing, she was finally present.
Meanwhile, Angela—
As always.
Tears in her eyes, she clutched the teacup and sniffled.
“Huu… I came to thank you, but what is all this?”
“I’m sorry…”
“It’s fine. You can’t say that to your benefactor.”
Bianca swallowed a sigh.
“You were startled, but I see you have grasped your current situation.”
Bianca set the teacup down and looked Angela straight in the eye.
Angela tried hard to meet her gaze with watery eyes.
A maid standing nearby gave Angela a pitying look and gently wiped her tears.
“Huuu…”
“Clear your nose too.”
“Sniff!”
“…Receiving help from someone like this.”
Bianca pressed her fingers to her forehead.
The benefactor who had saved her yesterday was in this state.
A strange mix of gratitude and disbelief.
Angela finally calmed her tears and runny nose and looked at Bianca again.
“Bianca…”
“Goldren young lady.”
Bianca’s voice softened by a fraction.
“Calling a person by their name so casually means we are in an extremely close relationship.”
“Yeah…”
“Do you want to be in that kind of relationship with me? Even after I started a fight with you on my very first debut event?”
“Yeah…”
“Why?”
Angela hesitated for a moment.
Then she said in a small voice.
“I only have… one friend…”
“…”
Bianca was momentarily speechless.
It was unexpected.
In truth, nobles often had servants as friends.
They lived together day and night, so affection naturally grew.
But a servant was still just a servant.
It was awkward to call them a true friend.
And making friends with other noble young ladies was not easy either.
Even among nobles bound by blood, betrayal was common in their society.
Women at banquets observed each other, compared each other, stabbed each other, and ranked their status.
Forming a genuine friendship inside that was no simple task.
That was why Bianca had immediately suspected.
Was this a lie?
But the way she had screamed and clung the moment she entered the reception room was not calculated behavior.
It would only damage her reputation.
In other words.
It was sincere.
‘This person… I’ve never met anyone like her before.’
Bianca found it hard to believe, but she decided to accept it for now.
After all, repaying a favor came first.
“I understand. Let’s be friends.”
“Really?”
Angela’s eyes widened dramatically.
“Yes, Miss Angela.”
“Call me Angela! In a casual way!”
“…Not yet.”
Bianca took a step back.
This person needed boundaries taught.
Otherwise she would burrow in like a snake.
“So, why have you come today?”
“I already told you I came to thank you.”
“Ah, thank you. But why?”
“At that time… um.”
Bianca paused for a moment.
It was obvious Ruang and Angela were entangled.
They had been far too intertwined at the banquet yesterday.
Yet she was thanking her while bringing up Ruang—could she even do that?
The atmosphere might turn strange.
At that exact moment.
Knock.
“Hm? Who is it?”
“Miss, the guest…”
Bianca turned her gaze.
“Miss Goldren said she has no friends, yet so many people keep coming. How strange.”
“Ah, no!”
“If people come without any notice like this, they must be very close—”
Crack.
A hand rested on Bianca’s shoulder.
Her body instantly stiffened.
The familiar touch.
Exactly like last night.
At the banquet.
The same feeling as the moment she had been most flustered.
And a low, deep male voice spoke.
“Close people, you say.”
Ruang.
Bianca’s face turned deathly pale in an instant.
It was obvious to anyone that something was wrong.