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Chapter 18
“I never said anything about risking my life… I just offered it because it was so delicious. You’re the one healing me—shouldn’t I at least be generous with food?”
“Huh?”
There was no way the wealthy Duke Devesse would be this stingy over a bit of sherbet. What on earth was he upset about?
‘Probably… this whole marriage.’
The thought made Ellen frown slightly as the image of the beautiful Lady Marcel surfaced in her mind.
“You don’t like me, do you? That’s why everything I do bothers you, right?”
“Yes. It gets on my nerves.”
Whether his blunt agreement felt like a thorn, or it was the fact that she could understand his resentment, Ellen couldn’t tell. But it was as if a tiny splinter had lodged itself deep in her finger—painful and impossible to remove.
Even so, there was nothing she could do. She had no intention of handing her place over to Carla.
“…I’ll try to stay as quiet as possible.”
Ellen opened a book. Reading was always the best way to ignore someone. But Lichio disrupted her peace yet again.
“Do you know that the Holy Knight has been investigating your background?”
“Oh, that? I asked him to do it.”
“Think of a better excuse, Anais.”
His steel-blue eyes were piercingly sharp.
“Well… it’s just that—”
“If you plan on brushing this off like you usually do, I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Lichio tilted his head lazily, but the gesture carried an unmistakable pressure to tell the truth.
There was no way around it—she had to be honest.
“I was curious about my birth. I don’t look like any of my family members.”
“If that’s the case, you should have spoken to me, not a knight.”
“I was worried there might be a problem with my status. I couldn’t let your honor be tainted because of me. Sir Rohan is trustworthy—he’ll handle it discreetly.”
Lichio covered his face with one hand and sighed.
“So I’m the one you don’t trust.”
“Trust doesn’t come so easily. We haven’t even been married that long…”
“But it came easily enough for that Holy Knight?”
“…”
When Ellen fell silent, Lichio ran his hand roughly through his hair.
“So this ‘discreet solution’—does it mean you plan to run away from the ducal estate and hide somewhere?”
“That wasn’t my intention…”
Whether she turned out to be a fallen noble or an illegitimate child, Ellen planned to deal with it once her background became clear.
She’d just handle it quietly with Rohan’s help.
“That wasn’t your intention? Didn’t you always say you’d leave this hellhole no matter what it took?”
“When did I ever say that?”
“You said you’d do anything to escape this place.”
That was back when he’d been utterly convinced that Anais would one day return to her real self.
‘That was then. I can’t leave now…’
Her plan—to uncover Anais’s secret—was built entirely around the ducal residence.
Where had she gotten that confidence from? Far from distrusting Lichio, she had trusted him far too much.
‘She’s not a commoner… right? If she is, I’ll be kicked out for sure.’
She desperately needed a safeguard—a way to protect herself.
“To be honest, what reason do I have to trust you, my lord? Instead of demanding faith with just words, prove it to me.”
“Prove it?”
“Something on paper, maybe. Like… a contract saying we won’t divorce for at least a year. And regardless of my birth—no, forget I said that. I’m sure I’m of noble blood. Just look at me—do I look like a commoner?”
She was rambling nonsense—blurting out whatever came to mind out of panic.
And of course, only a fool would agree to something like that.
‘I’m doomed.’
Ellen bit her lip regretfully.
“A marriage contract, you say? A year isn’t enough. Let’s make it longer.”
“Really?”
Her eyes lit up like a person seeing the sun for the first time.
“I’ll have the papers prepared.”
Perhaps it was his noble pride, but to think he would take the bait from such a silly provocation—Lichio looked like someone begging to be scammed.
Contracts weren’t something to be taken lightly. Ellen actually felt a little sorry for him.
But still—she couldn’t leave. She had to stay in the ducal estate no matter what.
‘I may be a con artist, but at least I’ll protect the Duke from any other con artists.’
Ellen gazed at Lichio for a long time, her expression full of bittersweet emotion.
Lichio headed straight to his study. He had to act before Anais changed her mind.
He was not normally the type to throw himself into work, so his sudden diligence drew the attention of his aide, Alex.
“Is there something urgent, Your Grace?”
“Organize these documents for me.”
“…Isn’t this a marriage contract?”
Alex tilted his head, unable to make sense of the dense, detailed clauses written out in Lichio’s hand.
“Did the Duchess actually agree to all of this?”
Lichio didn’t answer—because she hadn’t.
Starting with a clause forbidding divorce, he filled the document with every selfish condition he could think of—
they must share a bed every night, eat every meal together, he would choose her ribbons himself… the list went on endlessly.
No wonder Alex looked reluctant.
But he wasn’t about to defy his master.
Once Alex finished drafting it, Lichio signed the papers without hesitation.
“Even for someone skilled in negotiation like me, this contract is impossible to execute. The Duchess gains nothing from it—and frankly, neither do you. Why make such a meaningless agreement?”
“She may not gain anything, but I do. And I’ll be the one to get her signature.”
“You mean personally? You can’t use force, Your Grace.”
Alex glanced uneasily at the medals of victory hanging on the wall, clearly recalling the day Lichio had forced the enemy king to sign a peace treaty.
Lichio’s brow furrowed deeply.
“What do you take me for? Do you think I’d draw a sword on my wife?”
“Then… how exactly do you intend to get her signature?”
“By ambushing her.”
Alex gaped, speechless.
But the Duke’s sharp look silenced any further protest.
“And—find every copy you can of that minstrel poetry collection.”
“The poetry collection, sir? For what purpose?”
Because Anais likes it.
Alex seemed to expect an explanation, but even Lichio thought it sounded ridiculous, so he said no more.
“What about Isabel?”
“There’s still no record of anyone by that name.”
When he was young, the first order he’d ever given his servants was to find Isabel.
Even back then, the answer had been the same—no trace of her.
But after meeting Anais, Isabel’s memory resurfaced, and he’d begun searching again.
“Could she have changed her name?”
“She wouldn’t have.”
She had loved her name—always smiling radiantly whenever he said it, brighter than the sun itself.
Now she was just a distant memory.
He sometimes wondered if that flawless image of her in his mind had partly become his own invention.
‘Why did she leave without a word? Does she even remember me?’
If she was going to leave, she shouldn’t have smiled at him like that. Once you’ve seen the light, how can you bear to live again in darkness?
To forget that sense of loss, Lichio had thrown himself into bloody battlefields.
And then—just when he was lost in that darkness—a new, unexpected light appeared before him.
Alex’s deliberate cough snapped him out of his thoughts.
“I’ll expand the search area.”
“Look for all women with black hair and green eyes.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Lichio’s steel-blue gaze darkened as he turned toward the window.
He wanted to find Isabel, and yet… part of him hoped she stayed hidden.
The Isabel from his memories—and the wife named Anais.
Was it selfish to refuse to let go of either? The two clashing emotions inside him made his mind reel.
Lichio loosened his tie and asked Ellen,
“I heard you spent all day struggling with the ledgers?”
“Who told you that? The head maid?”
With a sigh, Lichio sat across from her.
“Anais, it’s not shameful to admit when you don’t know something.”
Ellen proudly spread out the documents she’d organized.
“The head maid was embezzling.”
As he flipped through the papers, Lichio’s expression grew steadily darker.
He quickly summoned Alex again.
When the aide compared Ellen’s paperwork to the ledgers, his jaw dropped further and further.
“This is… unbelievable.”
And the darker Alex’s face grew, the brighter Ellen’s became—her pride shining through.
