CMEH 12

Chapter 12

Kenneth’s gaze fell upon the small vault in the bedroom.

The tiara that he had foolishly bought when he was younger was probably still inside, gathering dust.

It was an exquisite piece of jewellery, with delicate golden filigree twisted into graceful curves and adorned with rows of tiny transparent gems. And yet…

“…”

Without a word, Kenneth lit a cigar and stared out of the window.

The spring rain carried the fresh, crisp scent of grass and new growth, but his mind was clouded with memories of a past he’d rather forget.

At twenty-one, he’d gone into hiding, running for his life.

Now, aged twenty-four, he had finally reclaimed the former dignity of the ducal estate.

This was all thanks to the family businesses established outside the empire, which were managed through proxy accounts and frontmen, just as tradition dictated.

Taking down the people who had been desperate to tear apart the ducal fortune had been the easy part.

It was because he was a Clifford that he had suffered such betrayal.

And yet it was also because he was a Clifford that he had managed to rise again.

Nevertheless, everyone was astonished by the perfection of his recovery.

After all, the whole empire knew that he had once been on the brink of death.

Sometimes, emboldened by alcohol despite knowing it was rude, people would dare to ask:

“Your Grace, do you perhaps have the blood of an immortal?”

Kenneth merely let out a dry chuckle in response, but he secretly admired their boldness.

Had he been more forthcoming, he might have said something like this:

“If you hate someone enough to drag them into the mud, you’ll claw your way back out even if you’re cast to the lowest depths of hell.”

Kenneth had no shortage of targets for that kind of hatred.

The one he despised most was the House of Aberdeen.

Despite the subtle warnings of his late parents, he had maintained ties with them for years — and that had led to this disaster. So when the Aberdeens took their own lives without warning, he felt…

Not relief, but disappointment.

‘They couldn’t even endure the hell I went through for more than a few days? And all they left behind was a single daughter.’
‘You were meant to rot in prison too, Ariana. That was supposed to be your end.’

Ariana Aberdeen was destined to live in isolation, waiting for a death that would never come.

But when she clung to him, begging for her life, it stirred something inside him.

A twisted exhilaration.

And a surge of cold fury.

Even if he locked her away in a facility, what if the guards saw her wearing that same expression?

No matter how hardened their hearts were, wouldn’t one of them be tempted to take her and run?

‘If you weep and beg, at least one of them will break.’

Even if she were reduced to the status of a concubine or servant, it would make no difference.

Someone would always come forward wanting to be her saviour.

And Kenneth…

He could tolerate anything except that.

He could loathe Ariana Aberdeen for eternity.

But he would never allow anyone else to become her redeemer.

That’s why, when the imperial family tried to mock him by handing over her fate, he made his decision:

He would make her his wife.

‘The Duchess.’
A splendid prison of a title.

‘No one pities you now.’
They point fingers and say she should be grateful—to the duke who spared her, who made her his lawful wife.

‘That’s how you’ll spend the rest of your life—forever miserable by my side.’

A jailer and his prisoner. The prisoner’s life was firmly in the jailer’s grasp — the perfect imbalance.

Kenneth was thoroughly satisfied with the dynamic he had spent the past year establishing.

That’s precisely why he couldn’t tolerate Ariana trying to reverse it, as she had attempted to do tonight.

‘You’re the one who should be begging.’

He pulled the cigar from his lips and muttered to himself.

‘Beg for mercy. Plead not to be discarded.’

Even if it meant throwing herself at a man she despised.

***

Ariana remembered the night she had conceived Bibi.

It was a night shrouded in silence and drenched in relentless, cold rain.

Cremisa was known for its frequent rainfall, but that night…

It felt as though the skies themselves mirrored the desolation in her heart.

‘I guess it feels that way because everyone’s talking about war lately…’

Cremisa’s thriving maritime trade once brought prosperity to the empire. But now, talk of maintaining dominance among the great powers was growing louder.

War was in the air.

‘The imperial family was the first to propose it… And didn’t some members of the Noble Assembly support it too?’

No one had ever taken the time to explain things to Ariana in real detail before. All she was left with was confusion and a sense of helplessness.

Then, just as her thoughts began to wander, the door creaked open.

Startled, Ariana slowly sat up in bed.

“…Kenneth?”

It would happen again, wouldn’t it?

He would hold her in silence, showing her neither warmth nor kindness.

Then, without explanation, leave her behind.

No matter how long she waited, though, the man didn’t come to her.

It was only when she approached him slowly that she noticed something was wrong — Kenneth was more dishevelled than she had ever seen him.

He was a man who wore his suits like armour, never allowing even a hint of vulnerability. Everything about him was always precise and immaculate.

But tonight, he wasn’t wearing a tie, and the buttons that usually fastened tightly up to his collar were undone.

“Kenneth.”

“……”

“Are you all right? Should I call Dr. Bialle…?”

Living with him had always been difficult—always accompanied by guilt and caution.

Whenever she saw the marks left on his body by the incident at the opera house, she would feel a sharp pain in her chest.

But tonight, she found the courage to gently cup his cheek. For someone who once didn’t dare touch him at all, this was an act of extraordinary bravery.

“Where have you been…?”

His skin was ice cold. Rather than pushing her away, however, he simply held the hand that had touched his cheek and remained silent.

‘Is he even conscious? Could he be sleepwalking?’

As irrational suspicions crept in, Ariana called out to him again.

“Kenneth, are you really— mmph!”

She wasn’t sure if he was sleepwalking. But one thing was certain—he wasn’t in his right mind.

Because that night… he kissed her. For the very first time.

“Ah… ahh.”

They had done more than just kiss that night, but still, from the moment their lips met, to when he bit her softly, to when his tongue swept through her mouth with slow, deliberate heat—a shiver ran down her spine at the overwhelming, unfamiliar sensation.

“W-Wait a moment—”

Startled, Ariana tried to pull away, but Kenneth held her head firmly in place, devouring her lips with stubborn intensity.

Perhaps he mistook her flustered flailing for resistance, because he wrapped his arm tightly around her waist and drew her closer still.

He was far too big for her to handle in the first place — if he was determined to kiss her, there was no way she could escape.

Without a moment to process what was happening, she found herself swallowed up by him. She was held in his arms for the rest of the night.

—

The next morning.

Hiding beneath the sheets, Ariana’s body was still covered in the marks he had left. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him.

She was still a mess. But Kenneth was already fully dressed and looking neat and composed, as if nothing had happened.

The contrast stirred something bitter in her chest. It was as if he couldn’t get away from what had happened quickly enough.

“Kenneth… L-Last night, we…”

“……”

“You do remember what happened, don’t you? Does this… change anything between us?”

But Kenneth stared down at her with a cold, expressionless face. His clenched jaw made it clear that he was disgusted; it was painful to look at.

“Last night was a mistake.”

“W-What? What do you mean… a mistake?”

Ariana faltered, then sat up instinctively.

The sheets slipped from her shoulders, revealing her bare, scarred skin.

“How can you say it was a mistake… after what you did to me?”

“…Haa.”

“Didn’t you… maybe start to like me? Even just a little? Is that why you—”

“Me?”

Only then did Kenneth’s face contort—twisted with unmistakable disgust.

“Get your head straight, Ariana.”

“…!”

“Who could ever love a woman who grovels so pathetically just to survive?”

An invisible blade plunged into her chest.

The man who wielded it turned his back without hesitation.

“If a child comes from this… I’ll take responsibility.”

“T-That’s not what I meant—”

“But that’s all.”

“Kenneth!”

Ariana tried to chase after him but stumbled and collapsed.

Her body ached from being held by him all night.

But that pain was nothing compared to the ache in her chest.

“This is too cruel…”

If he had been cold from the beginning to the end, she might’ve endured it.

But why?

Why give her hope, only to take it away?

Why pretend to love her, only to discard her like a broken toy the next day?

Left alone, Ariana bowed her head and wept until her voice cracked.

She sobbed as though the sound itself could mend her broken heart.

And yet, in the year she turned twenty-two, Bibi was born, as if to repay her for all that misery.

The following year, when she was twenty-three, the sound of war drums could be heard competing for dominance at sea.

In that same year…

Ariana’s only child died.

***

Although the duchess had injuries to her forehead and ankle, the Clifford household staff showed no concern whatsoever.

But there was one change.

“Good morning, madam!”

Emily Vance had arrived once again to attend to Ariana.

At precisely nine o’clock, Ariana glanced from Emily to the view beyond the window, squinting playfully.

“For a ‘good’ morning, it seems a bit rainy, doesn’t it?”

“Eh—oh, come on! For Cremisa, this is practically sunny! You know how gloomy it usually is!”