SUGAR

L | ●▬●●

In that moment, Irene only wanted to kill someone.

All the muscles in her body instantly tensed and her veins all pulsed. She seemed to be seeing red.

She turned around and walked out to squeeze the railings along the staircase. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm down, before pushing open the door again and walking in. Lisa had already stopped fussing, but she was still trapped in a nightmare. A fist reached out from under the blanket, tightly clutching onto the corner of the blanket. Her grip was so tight that the veins in her hand slightly bulged out and her knuckles had turned white.

Irene only felt like her heart had been tightly grasped onto by that fist too. It hurt sharply and urgently.

She hurriedly walked forward and held the other's hand, then gently called out her name.

Lisa struggled a bit. She didn't wake up, only muttering again, "It hurts so much. Chaeng-ah, no more. I'm in so much pain......"

Irene's heart almost broke because of this.

She only felt that the hand in her palm was wet and cold. She quickly pressed that hand to her chest to warm it up, then grabbed a tissue to wipe Lisa's forehead.

"Lisa, Lisa, it's me. Baby, don't be scared. It's me."

Lisa was struggled a bit more. She still didn't wake up.

Irene found it strange. She reached a hand under the blankets and discovered, as expected, that the blankets were completely soaked. She immediately pulled Lisa out and grabbed a throw blanket to wrap her in. After, she single-handedly carried Lisa to the closet to find clothes for her to change into.

Lisa was probably used to Irene's embrace. As soon as she became wrapped in the other's arms and Irene stroked her back, she obediently stopped fussing. Her tense body slowly started relaxing as well. Her head flopped onto Irene's collarbones, allowing Irene to strip her and dry her off, then re-dress her.

Irene had originally been incredibly furious.

But upon seeing Lisa curled up in her embrace, peacefully sleeping like a little bird who had finally returned to its nest, she couldn't help her lips from quirking up slightly either. She wanted to put Lisa onto the couch, but discovered that the back of her shirt had been caught in the other's hand. She tugged at it, to no avail. Lisa smacked her lips again, then burrowed further into Irene's chest. "Don't leave."

Irene's heart skipped a beat.

She didn't know if she should feel touched or jealous. She paused in place for a moment before silently heaving out a sigh.

She called the butler and told him to have some people fix up the bed, —in actuality, it was just that she was in a bad mood but had nowhere to expend these negative emotions—. She couldn't help scolding the butler and servants who had come upstairs to tidy up: so careless. I gave her to you to take care of, yet you guys didn't do a good job. She's been sweating for so long, but nobody's come up to check on her.

Irene was a proper and mannerly person. She was forgiving to her workers, so rarely became angry with her servants like this.

Now that she was throwing a tantrum, everyone fell quiet. They did their best to quiet their breathing and focus; they even worked faster than usual. There were five or six people shuttling around the room, but they didn't even make a single sound.

As such, of course nobody dared to remind her: in the beginning, who had ordered, "She's nothing but a play thing. Don't treat her too well. Those from common families are very shortsighted. If we spoil her too much, she'll start causing trouble," huh? Who had also slowly started treating Lisa as a personal possession in the past six months, expression turning dark if anyone dared to lay an extra finger on her?