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Chapter 4
Don’t Obsess Over Me… Huh, what?
“……”
Silence.
At Diabella’s bombshell answer, everyone froze as if their mouths had sealed shut.
Bellop, who had been escorting Angelica away, stopped in his tracks. Angelica, too, turned around with widened eyes.
Those eyes… seemed to be faintly smiling.
“…Are you serious?”
After a long moment, Raymond spoke in a trembling voice.
‘Oh, here we go. So this is the kind of development we’re getting.’
According to her web-novel-obsessed friend, possession stories always went like this. If you possessed a villainess—or someone everyone had ignored—suddenly everyone would start begging you not to divorce, and wherever you went, they would all go wild over your charm.
‘What, are you obsessed with my charm now? All of a sudden? And now that I’m actually saying I want a divorce, you’re suddenly regretting it? Dream on. I’m leaving with 4 billion won!’
Diabella shrugged and smiled with only one corner of her lips lifted. Ugh, what a pain.
Raymond approached her with an expression of disbelief and carefully took her right hand.
“Oh dear, really, what is this now? Even if you ask me not to divorce you, it won’t make any difference—”
Just as Diabella was about to brush him off haughtily, she froze when Raymond placed something into her right hand.
What, what?
“Write up the divorce papers before you change your mind.”
What, what, what, what?
Unbelievable. She was too stunned to speak.
At the very least, shouldn’t he pretend to stop her?
No, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to divorce him. It was just absurd. Absurd, that’s all.
So this is how it goes, huh? They were just waiting for her to say it.
Diabella bit her lip tightly. Then she snatched the divorce papers from Raymond’s hand and stepped toward him, closing the distance. Since he was quite a bit taller than her, she rose onto her tiptoes and tilted her chin up at him.
“W-What are you doing?”
“You really were waiting for this moment, weren’t you?”
Diabella’s ruby-like eyes glared at him sharply, and Raymond flinched.
Clearly unwilling to admit it, even with a conscience, he turned his head away and coughed awkwardly.
“…Even if you do write the divorce papers, you need not leave the Marquis household immediately. You are still recovering, so remain here until your mind and body are settled.”
Oh, how generous of you. How absolutely magnanimous.
Diabella let out a hollow laugh, stunned.
Well, of course.
Did he think he was going to throw out a wife who had nearly died from poison right away?
Of course, her body felt perfectly fine. It was as if she had slept extremely deeply and woken up refreshed. Still, she couldn’t be certain yet. She’d only just fallen into this new world, and until she understood her condition properly, she didn’t want to be forced out immediately.
‘Just wait. As soon as I’ve checked my body and figured out what’s going on, I’m taking my money and leaving.’
Diabella gritted her teeth. The divorce papers crumpled tightly in her fist.
“Madam, crumpling the divorce papers won’t make them invalid.”
“Ah, seriously?”
Feeling her temper rise, Diabella swept her hair back.
“What a pain in the ass. You really talk like a petty tyrant, you know that? Seriously annoying. Did I say I wouldn’t write the divorce papers? I said I would. What’s the big deal if they get a little crumpled? Fine, whatever. It’s disgusting and infuriating, but I’ll write them. Bring me my departure settlement right now.”
“…Madam? Your language is a bit crude. And your words are far too harsh…”
“You’ve got a pretty short character for someone preaching manners. Respect is for people who deserve it. We’re getting divorced anyway, so I have no reason to make a good impression on you.”
Something flashing at the edge of her vision caught Diabella’s eye.
It was a sword blade being silently drawn from Bellop’s scabbard.
‘Uh-oh… did I push it too far?’
In the Marquis household, the Marquis’s word was law. And Bellop was exactly the type of loyal subordinate who would cut down anyone if it meant protecting the Marquis.
At this rate, she might get killed before the divorce ever happened. Better rein it in.
Diabella’s heart pounded. So she quickly clutched her head with both hands and collapsed.
“Ugh… I think this body is being overworked… I don’t even know what I’m saying right now. What did I just say? I must have been poisoned by something that impaired brain function!”
“…Madam.”
Raymond’s voice trembled as he tried to suppress his anger.
Diabella cracked one eye open just enough to peek. She saw Bellop approaching with the sword hilt in his hand, but Raymond signaled him back with a gesture.
Phew. Saved.
Diabella shut her eyes again and pretended to faint.
“She seems to be out of her senses. Let her rest, and hand the divorce papers to the butler once they are written. After that, the departure settlement shall be paid.”
Having said that, Raymond stormed out of the room with heavy, angry footsteps.
‘What on earth…’
Raymond was speechless.
It seemed certain now that his wife was not in her right mind.
‘What kind of poison did she drink to end up like that?’
He shook his head.
The more he thought about the things Diabella had said—
“How petty and controlling of you. Did I say I wouldn’t write the divorce papers? I said I would. What’s the big deal if they get a little crumpled? Fine, disgusting and infuriating, but I’ll write them. Bring me my departure settlement right now.”
—the more unbelievable it felt.
Petty tyrant?
He didn’t even know exactly what that meant, but it clearly sounded like some incredibly rude and shameless behavior.
And disgusting and infuriating?
Me? Raymond Crimton, renowned for being fair and kind?
After calming himself and thinking again, he realized that because his wife had always been full of lies and plots, he had doubted her promise to write the papers and pressed her too hard.
‘Did I go too far with someone who’d just survived a brush with death…?’
Only now did he remember that he had not asked whether her body was alright, or whether she was in pain anywhere else.
When he received word that she had finally awakened, he rushed to her without thinking and ended up embracing her. He thought he might have even shed a few tears at some point.
When he first heard what she had done to the villagers, he had been furious enough to decide on divorce immediately. But as she lay pale and unconscious for a whole month, his heart had softened.
He resented her for the reckless stunt, hated her for it… and then on some days, he even felt like he might forgive her anything if only she woke up.
Those days had been miserable and confusing.
Of course, his first instinct upon seeing her awake had been to ask whether she was alright. But that only lasted a moment—when the butler handed him the divorce papers, his wavering feelings froze cold again.
It felt like she had seen through the concern he’d been trying so hard to hide and toyed with him again.
Her willingness to gamble with her life and go that far had sent a chill through him, and he had pushed her away.
During the month Diabella had been lying in bed, the Marquis household had been so quiet that he had forgotten her awful temperament.
He didn’t want to admit it, but he had once again remembered the fact that he had married an utterly bizarre woman.
She had been the daughter of a minor viscount family, but before marriage Diabella had risen to the top of society solely because of her appearance. Seductive and beautiful like a dark red wine, she had captivated every man in the capital.
When she showed favor only to him, he had honestly felt proud.
Diabella, the black rose of society that no one else could touch.
What man could refuse that kind of allure?
She was so beautiful, so radiant.
Even up to the moment of the wedding ceremony, everyone envied him. They said he had obtained the empire’s most beautiful woman.
He had believed it too.
He thought he might be the luckiest man in the country, and he had felt pleased with himself.
But not long after the marriage, when he learned her true nature, he had come to believe he was the unluckiest man in the country.
Diabella rejected his touch.
On their wedding night, when he approached her to fulfill the obligations of the first night, she convulsed as if struck by an attack and screamed at him not to come near.
Faced with such blatant revulsion, he had no choice but to maintain his distance as a gentleman.
He simply waited, thinking that one day she would open her heart.
Thus she remained the most beautiful flower—and one he could never reach.
Just as roses have thorns to protect their beauty, her hidden thorns were just as formidable.
First, Diabella was extravagant.
She had come from a viscount family whose finances were so strained that her dowry amounted to only about half of what an ordinary noble family would provide.
At first, he had thought it was charming—perhaps someone who had grown up lacking things was trying to make up for that by indulging herself.
But she knew no restraint.
If she had merely spent the Marquis household’s money lavishly, he might have closed his eyes to it.
He had never expected her to start extorting money from poor, powerless villagers.
Second, Diabella was shallow and immature.
She never considered other people’s feelings and simply acted according to her whims. She struck and cast out servants the moment they displeased her, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
On the other hand, anyone who flattered her, she believed without question—whether they were telling the truth or not.
‘But…’
Raymond tapped one hand against the desk and sank into thought.
‘What she said to Lady Miles today was unexpected. Even I never considered where the poison came from… That analysis was sharper than usual.’
He recalled the fragile image of Lady Miles, crying that she knew nothing and had only done what she could.
Those tears did not feel truthful. Instead…
“You’ve got a pretty short character…”
Diabella’s words, though outrageous as always, had been different today in a way he couldn’t ignore.
At first, he had scoffed and assumed she was putting on her usual act.
But if he were to think carefully about whether it was a performance…
‘Lady Miles’s behavior felt more like acting, while my wife’s words didn’t seem staged at all. If anything, she looked too honest.’
But wasn’t that even stranger?
All those bizarre words and actions—were they really not an act?
Was I, Raymond de Crimton, really someone with a short temper who was petty and controlling?
He didn’t want to believe it.
