IDLA 12

Chapter 12

The moment I thought of him, my mood lifted.

A kind and gentle man even to servants. A brilliant, intellectual handsome man with long golden hair—I could almost see him standing before me, smiling faintly.

When I thought of Ricardo, it felt like Siberian air. But when I thought of him, it turned warm like the Mediterranean.

‘No wonder Stella would fall for him.’

Zeno was a character with just as much importance as Ricardo, the male lead, in the original story.

A powerful merchant who traveled across continents leading a massive trading guild, he accumulated enormous wealth and deeply influenced the political landscape of multiple nations. Through weapon trade and military supply procurement, he held enough power to tilt the balance of authority itself.

Although he acted for profit, his cooperation also helped Ricardo’s path to the throne gain momentum.

By Ricardo’s invitation, Zeno stayed at the ducal estate—and through a chance encounter, he became close to Stella.

Before leaving the estate, he even suggested that Stella come work for his overseas trading company. That alone showed how highly he valued her talent as a former maid.

That’s why I, who also liked Stella in the original story, liked Zeno Harbaston as a character too.

‘What a waste. If Stella had taken that opportunity back then, she wouldn’t have died such a meaningless death.’

This time, unlike in the original, I would not miss my chance.

Of course, that didn’t mean I would follow Zeno. It would be strange for a duchess to run off with another man.

But if I ever needed his help, I wouldn’t hesitate.

I once again resolved to live quietly here, avoid drawing anyone’s attention, and leave safely after a discreet divorce when the time was right.

While I was lost in thought, the bottle of alcohol gradually emptied. Perhaps from fatigue, the empty glass slipped from my hand and fell softly onto the carpet.

A wave of drowsiness hit me along with a yawn.

“I’m tired… I should sleep early today.”

I crawled onto the soft bed and lay down, pulling the blanket up to my neck before closing my eyes.

‘She really had everything… so why was Kayla so miserable all the time? What was so special about Ricardo?’

Knowing he wouldn’t come, I stretched out comfortably and drifted toward sleep. Even if my husband didn’t love me, this peaceful, idle life was satisfying enough.

As long as he didn’t kill me, I thought I could keep living like this.

A faint smile formed on my lips.

*****

The great hall of the ducal estate remained lively late into the night.

Ricardo sat with his vassals and several knights, drinking heavily.

Despite his subordinates urging him to return to the bridal chamber where his wife was waiting, Ricardo stayed in his seat until deep into the night.

It didn’t even seem to occur to him that today was his wedding day. To him, it was no different from a post-victory feast after returning from war.

Thinking of the damned marriage—and the bride waiting for him—only made him more irritated.

He had no desire to go to a room where a woman was waiting for him. It was easier to stay here, drinking until the night passed.

One by one, his men collapsed from drink. Only when the sky outside began to pale did he finally rise and leave.

He thought he was fine, but suddenly his body swayed, and he grabbed a pillar to steady himself in the cold dawn air.

“Damn it… I drank too much.”

He had accepted every cup his men poured for him, drinking far more than usual. Now his eyelids felt heavy, and his vision blurred.

For years—through a brutal winter and spring spent in harsh field camps, soaked in dew—he had endured exhaustion accumulated over countless campaigns.

The fatigue of war, once suppressed, came crashing down all at once. Even after returning victorious, his situation was still infuriating, enough to split his head open.

He staggered toward his room, following muscle memory.

When he opened the door, the atmosphere inside felt different. A faint, unfamiliar sweetness lingered in the air, making him frown slightly.

He walked straight to the bed, intending to collapse onto it. After long wars, he usually slept like a dead man for days.

But when he pulled back the canopy—

he froze.

Someone was lying in his bed.

His foggy mind snapped awake. He narrowed his eyes and looked again.

A woman was sleeping soundly, as if that bed had always belonged to her.

“Ha.”

A short, incredulous laugh escaped him.

The fact that he was married, that this was his wedding night, and that he was only realizing it now—all of it was absurd. But the woman in front of him was even more absurd.

Seeing her asleep in his bed was shocking in a way he hadn’t expected. He had assumed she would be sitting somewhere sulking, crying, or grinding her teeth in resentment.

But reality completely defied his expectations.

He quickly scanned the room. His sleepiness was already gone.

Her wedding dress was neatly folded in one corner. A bottle on the table was empty—she must have drunk alone. A fallen glass on the carpet suggested she had been quite intoxicated.

Since the glass and bottle weren’t smashed, it seemed she had finished drinking calmly and then gone to bed.

He looked back at her with a stiff expression.

“Mm….”

As if having a pleasant dream, she shifted slightly, rolling onto her side. Like a child, she folded her hands beneath her head and slept peacefully, breathing softly.

The blanket slipped, revealing a pale, rounded shoulder beneath her nightgown.

Ricardo stared at her as if she were some unfamiliar creature.

‘How can she sleep like that?’

Seeing her so at ease, as if she had no worries in the world, stirred something unpleasant within him. Something deep inside twisted, and he felt a surge of irritation.

He released the canopy and turned sharply, leaving the room.

Outside, the sky was turning pale with dawn.

Stella slept on, unaware that Ricardo had been there watching her.

*****

Birdsong grew louder outside the window. Footsteps echoed through the corridor, and pale light seeped through her eyelids.

“Yaaawn.”

Stretching, I slowly looked around.

Everything was the same as yesterday. Of course—there was no sign that the duke had ever entered the room.

Feeling refreshed, I climbed out of bed.

‘What time is it? Why hasn’t anyone come yet?’

It wasn’t even that early, yet no one had come to wake me. Normally, even if it wasn’t Molly, someone would come to assist the duchess with washing and dressing.

‘No way Molly left me alone out of concern.’

I casually put on a robe and stepped out to investigate.

As soon as I reached the hallway, the maids cleaning there flinched when they saw me.

“L-Lady…”

“G-good morning…”

Their startled faces made it obvious—they had been gossiping about me just moments ago.

“Where is Molly?”

At the mention of her name, they flinched again and avoided eye contact.

‘So they’ve been running their mouths since morning.’

Passing them, I looked down into the garden. A group of maids had gathered below—and in the center was Molly.

She was speaking animatedly to them, her face dramatically sorrowful, though the corners of her mouth were faintly raised.

‘I told her to get a grip.’

She clearly hadn’t listened to a word of my warning.

As I turned with a hardened expression, the maids behind me quickly lowered their heads.

I tightened my robe and walked downstairs in slippers. Whispering followed me the entire way.

When I reached the garden, the maids noticed me and stepped back in alarm.

But Molly, still unaware of me standing right behind her, continued loudly:

“Honestly, the duke is too much. How could he leave his bride alone on her wedding night?”

The maids listening in front of her looked awkward—but she still hadn’t noticed.

“I checked a little in the morning, and he must’ve been in so much distress he drank an entire bottle of wine alone last night.”

“U-um…”