Chapter 1: The Crack (2)

Since the founding of the Empire, the House of Windmere had guided its finances and diplomacy through trade, foreign relations, and emerging industries.

The House of Brickwell, on the other hand, had secured its position through unmatched military strength and unwavering loyalty.

Both families were among the Empire’s founding houses, possessing power and prestige second only to the Imperial Family. However, it was common knowledge that Windmere and Brickwell did not get along.

The feud between them had been passed down for generations.

It was like a deep trench.

No matter how much water was drained, more continued to flow in. No matter how much earth was piled into it, the crack only grew wider.

And the children of Windmere and Brickwell faithfully inherited that hostility.

Everyone knew that Windmere’s Lucius and Brickwell’s Celia, born only three days apart, were sworn enemies who seemed determined to destroy each other.

Their grudge ran especially deep after their first meeting at the Imperial charity event when they were five years old. They had introduced themselves by grabbing each other’s hair and collars and rolling around on the ground while screaming.

The boy destined to become the Empire’s greatest gentleman and the girl expected to become a graceful and elegant lady constantly snarled at one another.

People would simply shrug and say,

“Well, they’re Windmere and Brickwell.”

But every conflict eventually comes to an end.

One day, the two families agreed to put their pointless feud behind them and joined hands.

The method they chose to extinguish a two-hundred-year-old rivalry was simple.

They would marry their children.

It was an agreement, reconciliation, transaction, and compromise made without the slightest consideration for the wishes of the people getting married.

*

It was a lazy afternoon.

The late sunlight streaming through the windows quietly spread across the carpet.

Deep within the castle, in a library rarely visited by others, Celia sat with her feet neatly together as she gently turned a page.

The thin gloves covering her hands brushed softly against the paper.

“My lady, my lady! Look at this!”

Hearing someone call her, Celia tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and lifted her eyes.

She still wasn’t used to being called “my lady” in this household.

Frowning briefly, she glanced at the damp newspaper Anne, her personal maid, held out toward her. It looked rather worn, and she had no idea where it had come from.

“They printed another article like this!”

The peaceful afternoon she had been enjoying in the absence of the house’s owner immediately began to crumble.

Her sharp gaze lowered toward the article.

Soon, she abandoned her book and snatched up the newspaper, despite the sticky stain smeared across it.

Beside her, Anne nervously exclaimed,

“I picked it out of the trash after the Grand Duchess threw it away…!”

But Celia’s ears had already shut themselves to everything except the words in front of her.

“…Damn it.”

A curse completely unsuited to a noble lady escaped her lips.

As if she had expected it, Anne squeezed her eyes shut.

Meanwhile, Celia tightened her grip on the paper.

The hand holding the newspaper rose into the air before—

Bang!

She slammed it against the wall.

“Who keeps printing this garbage? Who actually reads these ridiculous propaganda sheets?!”

The newspaper slid pitifully to the floor.

The headline gleamed in oversized letters.

[ The Secret Date of the Young Duke and Duchess of Windmere! ]

Below the title was a long article filled with pure fantasy disguised as gossip about the married couple who had supposedly ended their families’ feud through marriage two and a half years earlier.

According to the article, they had gone on a romantic date, dined at the most famous restaurant in the capital, and enjoyed an evening walk together.

Complete nonsense.

“My lady, calm down! It was probably something our Duke or the Duke of Windmere arranged!”

Anne desperately tried to soothe her master’s anger.

After grumbling for a while, Celia finally pressed a hand against her forehead and sank into the wing chair.

This was hardly the first time something like this had happened.

Yet every single time such articles appeared, she became just as furious.

“I-I’ll bring some tea! Please rest for a moment!”

After carefully gauging her mood, Anne quickly retreated.

She knew that the safest place right now was somewhere far away from Celia.

Once Anne left, silence filled the room.

Celia leaned against the armrest, her long white hair falling over her shoulders.

As she slowly worked through her anger, her expression gradually calmed.

“Haa…”

Swallowing countless words she wanted to say, she let out a long sigh.

It had already been two and a half years since Celia Brickwell had become Celia Windmere.

Only two and a half years.

Yet also an entire two and a half years.

People no longer made bets on how quickly the reconciliation between Windmere and Brickwell would collapse.

At first, people had laughed and predicted:

“It won’t even last a week.”

“No, they’ll keep up appearances. At least six months.”

But eventually everyone accepted that the families had truly reconciled.

Everyone except the two people actually involved in the marriage.

“I wonder if Lucius saw this article too.”

If she had to suffer, he should suffer as well.

Hopefully that idiot had seen this pile of nonsense.

Just then, Anne returned carrying a tea tray.

While she expertly prepared the tea, Celia once again composed herself into the image of a proper noblewoman.

“By the way, someone from the charity hospital that the Grand Duchess sponsors is visiting today. Would you like to meet them?”

Celia picked up her fallen book and elegantly crossed her legs again.

“Why would I?”

Anne smiled as though she had expected exactly that answer.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll tell the Grand Duchess you’re not feeling well.”

“Please do.”

Humming cheerfully, Anne poured tea into a cup.

The golden tea settled inside a finely painted cup decorated with blue iris flowers.

Soon it was placed before Celia.

“And the milk?”

“I already prepared it.”

The warmed milk sat in a small pitcher beside the cup.

There were also thin slices of lemon instead of sugar, something only Celia requested in this household.

“Who cares about Windmere’s charity projects anyway? Our lady doesn’t need to waste her time on them.”

Celia said nothing.

Her silence was agreement enough.

The heavy book in her hands flipped through a few pages.

Then she frowned again.

Damn Windmere.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

She could barely focus on the words.

“My lady?”

“It’s nothing.”

The library fell silent once more.

This was a study Lucius often used.

Because she disliked running into him, Celia rarely came here.

Today, however, he had gone out to deal with problems in the western mountain region of the estate, allowing her to claim the room for herself.

No one would dare bother a lady born into the House of Brickwell.

The setting sun stretched long shadows beyond the bookshelves.

Steam rose from her favorite tea.

Its gentle aroma drifted through the room and eased her irritation slightly.

“My lady, I know it can’t happen immediately… but what if, in a year or two, you requested a separate residence and started living apart from the young duke?”

Anne spoke carefully, as though she had spent a long time gathering the courage to say it.

“You can’t stay under the same roof forever with the eldest son of Windmere, who’s basically your mortal enemy. One day you could move somewhere quiet that you like and settle into your own estate!”

A small laugh escaped Celia.

Seeing her smile, Anne brightened immediately.

I knew my lady would like this idea!

Watching Anne practically bounce around the room, Celia’s eyes softened.

“A year or two from now…”

She smiled faintly.

“Let’s talk about it again when the time comes.”

Unfortunately, she had no intention of fulfilling Anne’s hopes.

Because she didn’t intend to wait that long.

Celia swallowed the rest of her thoughts.

Everyone said that she and Lucius were handling married life far better than expected.

People claimed the families had reconciled and that both of them had matured with age into proper ladies and gentlemen.

They had no idea why the marriage was actually continuing.

We’re getting divorced soon.

A plan for one or two years in the future isn’t necessary.

After three years of marriage, they had agreed to divorce.

It was a secret known only to the two of them.

And it was also the first thing they had ever agreed on.

It’s already been two and a half years.

Only six months left.

Compared to an entire lifetime, six months was nothing.

She hummed softly and finally turned another page.

Maybe I should start thinking about what I’ll do afterward.

Lucius was a man with whom she had built a bitter rivalry ever since they were five years old.

A man who stood opposite her in every possible way.

The humiliation of suddenly being forced to marry him still occasionally kept her awake at night.

But that was all in the past.

Recently, Celia had found joy in counting down the days.

It’ll probably be winter by then. Maybe I should move south somewhere warm.

She wanted nothing more than to sign the divorce papers as soon as possible.

From their first meeting until now, Lucius had never once been helpful to her.

But when it came time to sign those divorce papers, she absolutely needed him.

So until then, she could tolerate ridiculous articles like these.

She could even tolerate occasionally crossing paths with Lucius inside the castle.

For the next six months, I think I can endure almost anything.

***

And only half a day later…

She was forced to take those words back.

That damned Lucius Eliah Rowan Windmere.

“The young master has been injured!”

A man lay sprawled on a stretcher before her.

Blood poured from Lucius’s body, staining him red and dripping onto the floor.

Six months until the divorce.

An unexpected disaster had suddenly fallen upon her.