KMKS 01

Chapter 1

On a night when even the moonlight was hidden by storm clouds, her husband had an accident.

Should she consider it fortunate that he was at least lying in bed, still alive?

“……”

Aiden’s brilliant blue eyes, admired by many women, were closed in unconsciousness.
His golden hair, once radiant, hung heavily, drenched with rain.

As always, Sarah stood a step away, gazing at her husband.
A bitter, self-mocking smile brushed across her lips.

Had she ever once truly looked at him?
If it were an ordinary day, she probably wouldn’t have been able to look at him for long.

But after the doctor had just told her that he might not wake for quite some time, facing him wasn’t so difficult.
And yet, even now, staring at her unconscious husband, Sarah felt nothing.

His tattered clothing did not stir pity in her.
His lips, drained of all color, did not tug at her heart.

Not even when the coachman recounted how the accident had happened.
Not even when the doctor bent over him, urgently checking if he was still alive.

What had Sarah thought at that moment?

“You’re being punished, that’s all.”

In the pitch-dark room, a harsh flash of lightning lit up her husband’s pale face like an afterimage.

Yes, Sarah could only think he was being punished.

And why not? For the past two years of their marriage, nothing had tormented her more than her husband’s cruel nature.

So it wasn’t bad luck, nor some misfortune that should have fallen on someone else.
It was the misery he rightly deserved.

“You are being punished.”

Perhaps it was her long-cherished wish.

As if on cue, thunder boomed outside, lightning splitting the sky.
Sarah flinched, her shoulders trembling.

She didn’t know if it was because of the thunder—or because of the fleeting thought that had crossed her mind.

But what was certain was this: in the room, there were only two people.
Her husband. And Sarah.

Pulling her shawl tightly around her, she noticed the rain blowing in through the half-open window.
Water stained the wooden floor with dark blotches, like spreading bruises.

She stepped carefully, each move making the damp boards creak, until she closed the window with deliberate slowness—afraid even of waking him.

Outside, the rain hammered against the glass.

Tap—tap—. Tap—.

Perhaps it was only the sound of her unspoken resentment.

Sarah stood staring endlessly into the blackness beyond the window.
And there, she saw her husband’s face.

He had lain with other women as if it meant nothing.

She had suspected it for a long time, but Sarah never showed it.
Dragging the truth into the open felt too exhausting.

After all, she had never learned how to resolve conflict—only how to survive it.

And most of all, there was no love between them.
They may have been married, but there was no fidelity to protect.

So instead of fighting, Sarah closed her eyes and ignored it.

But Aiden always made sure she knew.

[“I had a blazing night with that woman.”]
[“I wonder if you even know what a blazing night is?”]

Blowing cigar smoke into her face, sneering, boasting loudly.

An ordinary husband might at least have kept such betrayals quiet.
But not Aiden. Of course not—there was no love.

Besides, the marriage had been little more than a transaction.

Sarah bit down on her lip. It split, and a bead of blood welled.

“Sarah, I wish you could be our daughter.”
“If you come with us, you’ll be the daughter of a Count’s household, not a Baron’s.”

When her parents died in an accident, Sarah had been taken in by Count and Countess Dorsen, distant relatives. They rescued her from the nightmare of the orphanage.

The titles—Baron’s daughter, Count’s daughter—meant nothing to her.
What mattered was that she wanted to become their family as quickly as possible.

She thought they could heal each other’s wounds.

The young Sarah, dazzled by their kind smiles, never imagined what darkness lurked beneath.

“They’ll pay a fine dowry.”
“Would you rather marry an old viscount?”

The couple egged each other on, tallying up names of unmarried nobles, as though calculating profits.

“If only we could adopt two, that would’ve been better. But oh well.”
“No use complaining. She’ll do just fine. Let’s get this over with.”

The Dorsens had taken her in for one purpose: to sell her off for a bride price.

And now, she was of age. There was no reason to delay.

They insisted it wasn’t such a loss—after all, Aiden Spencer was young compared to many other noblemen. He had wealth, too.

“Don’t give us that look, child. We’re doing this for your happiness.”

Lies.

Their blood might have mingled faintly, but that little trace of kinship could never replace the daughter they had lost.

They sold her to Aiden Spencer under the guise of marriage.

Sarah spent years blaming herself, thinking perhaps she had failed to replace their real child.
If only she had been taller. If only her voice had been prettier. If only she had been younger.

She had tried everything—smiling when she wanted to cry, being affectionate when she wanted to pull away—hoping they would treat her as real family.

But no miracle came.

In truth, they had never wanted a daughter at all.
What they wanted was her inheritance, and the fortune they would receive from selling her.

Realizing this chilled Sarah’s very bones.

It had been a sham of a marriage from the start.
Divorce had crossed her mind.

But how could she? She was worth one million gold.

That was the price set on her head.
Not by her, but by others.

And she could never repay such a sum.
Even if she could, would Aiden let her go?

No. And worse—she had no home to return to.

That money had bought her chains.

With it, the Dorsens fled, vanishing forever.

Later, clinging to a sliver of hope, she had once asked Aiden about them.

[“Why are you asking me about your parents?”]
[“Oh wait—they abandoned you. They’re no parents.”]
[“Ah yes, your real parents died, didn’t they?”]

Aiden had smirked.

And when that last thread of hope shattered into pieces, he had been watching her face all along. Watching it twist in despair.

He had grabbed her chin, laughing harshly:

[“Sarah Spencer, the unlucky one!”]

But her thoughts were elsewhere.

“Where am I supposed to go?”

Sarah had been abandoned too many times.
She had nowhere in the world to return to.

And perhaps she never had.

“……If the Master doesn’t wake……”

While Sarah was lost in memories of her two years of marriage, voices drifted in from the servants outside the door.

Her dry eyes blinked.

“What will happen to the Mistress then?”

The tone was almost expectant.

“Well, she’ll be cast out, won’t she? They’ve no children. It’s only a matter of time.”

They discussed her fate casually, as though she weren’t inside the room.

In truth, what they spoke of was her ability to bear children.

“Perhaps she’s barren.”
“Don’t be foolish. How would she conceive when they’ve slept apart all this time?”

Sarah listened, expressionless. She had heard such words before.

Should she be grateful she never had a child with him?

Even if they had, would Aiden have changed? Would he have been any less cruel?

No.

She touched her jaw absently, then looked down at him—her husband, lying still, drenched from the storm.

The servants’ chatter faded into the distance.

The rainwater in his golden hair began to dry.

He lay in silence, not stirring, as if he would never rise again.
Whether lost in dreams or nothingness, his expression remained unmoved.

He looked at peace. As though he had never borne guilt at all.

And then—something unexpected stirred in Sarah’s heart.

“……Don’t wake. Please.”

Her dry whisper broke into the air, drowned quickly by another rumble of thunder.

She touched his cold hand.

It wasn’t a forbidden wish. No—it was the only thing left to say.

She had endured too many of his cruelties. Surely he could endure one wish for his death.

When the servants’ voices had faded entirely, Sarah turned her back on him and quietly left the room.

And not long after the rain stopped—

Her husband awoke.

The very man she had wished would never wake.
But when he opened his eyes, all his memories were gone.