🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter : 14
“I heard that marriage in Orthura is a transaction. There must have been something exchanged between you and Father. So why do you treat me not as the result of a deal, but like a punishment sent from the heavens? As if it wasn’t even a transaction, but a scam.”
Once her sudden burst of anger passed, only a miserable heap of ashes remained.
Rose could feel all strength leaving her voice.
Even after her questions, which came down like debt, the man remained silent for a long time.
As if he were thinking about something.
Was he thinking about how to hurt her with his words?
For a brief moment, something seemed to pass over his unusually calm face, but it was so quick she couldn’t be sure.
“Mrs. Crawford.”
After a while, his voice came, using a distant, formal way of addressing his own wife.
“In this world, not all transactions end in a perfect win-win. Some deals are necessary, but they still create a relative loss for one side.”
Ray spoke much slower than usual, as if dealing with a child who lacked understanding.
“No matter how ignorant you are, you cannot claim that this marriage is a great benefit to me.”
As Rose tried to speak, Ray raised a hand lightly to stop her.
“Ask your father. Even Mr. Davis will admit that I am taking a certain loss here. In return for that loss, I am only demanding your full cooperation.”
Full cooperation.
Rose understood what that meant.
It meant erasing her existence as much as possible.
Her thoughts, her feelings—everything.
But she was already doing that. If she erased herself any further, she would have to stop breathing.
“So I already told you, I’m doing my best. But how can a person always endure—”
“In Bolton, that might count as your best, but not in Orthura.”
Ray cut her off before she could finish, a rare trace of irritation in his voice.
“Honestly. I don’t understand why you refuse to get this.”
His gaze made it clear—her existence itself was becoming exhausting to him. Rose clenched her fists. Even the comb she had been holding was no longer in her hand.
“I have been telling you this all along. This is not Bolton. This is Orthura, and Orthura has its own rules. Here, your feelings are not important, and there is no need to express them.”
My feelings… what I feel… none of it matters.
Just because she was from Bolton, she was treated as an eternal enemy, someone who deserved humiliation.
Even in the Crawford family, which was now her family name.
Ray was not wrong.
In Orthura, no one would take Rose’s side. Not even her husband.
“So is it so unreasonable for me to ask you to follow what I, who clearly understand this place, am telling you? I honestly don’t see the problem.”
Finishing his words without hiding his frustration, the man stood up from the sofa.
“From now on.”
Each word was spoken with heavy emphasis.
“I hope we never have a conversation like this again, Mrs. Crawford.”
With that final sentence, Ray Crawford left her bedroom without hesitation.
Rose stood there long after he was gone, then collapsed into the dressing table chair.
She didn’t even have the strength to walk to the bed.
She had used all her strength today just to not cry.
That was enough.
Rose muttered blankly.
Even though she knew it was a meaningless comfort to herself, she kept repeating it—this was enough, this meant she hadn’t lost.
The next morning, what greeted the Crawford household was Rose’s photograph printed large on the front page of the Daily Oakley Review.
In the photo, Rose was sitting at an outdoor café in Bolton, smoking a cigarette.
“Minister’s Wife Still Living in Bolton”
Seeing the headline the butler personally brought to his bed, Ray let out a small laugh.
He wasn’t surprised.
He had expected this would eventually be used.
“In Bolton, even women smoke. Not surprising. Isn’t it a country that eats things it shouldn’t?
In Bolton, the line between what is allowed and what is forbidden is unclear.”
The article was aggressive from the very beginning.
Ray’s personal judgment was that Rose looked exceptionally good in the photo. If anything, it made the newspaper’s claim—that smoking was inappropriate for women—seem less credible.
It was the kind of picture that made one want a cigarette in the morning.
They should have chosen a worse photo of her. Though with that face, it would be hard for her to look bad.
Ray casually recalled his wife’s striking face.
The black-and-white image overlapped with last night, when the woman had completely lost her temper.
He had never seen anyone so irrational before. So improper.
It was the most shocking thing he had seen in a long time.
“That bastard.”
The small woman had spat out a curse that seemed barely able to reach the chest of most men.
Even after the night passed, the image remained too vivid, as if she were still standing in front of him.
Her usually pale face had been flushed red, and her white nightgown rose and fell with her breathing.
It was completely different from how she usually was.
It was strange that such an inappropriate sight made him realize she was, in fact, alive. She breathed… she moved.
At least in that state of anger, she no longer had that calm indifference, like ignoring a barking dog.
And that fact brought a strange sense of satisfaction along with irritation.
Ray erased the image of her flushed face and continued reading.
“However, Orthura is different from Bolton. Does the wife of Minister Crawford understand this?
According to our report, at a rare event she attended—she is said to rarely appear in public—she made several inappropriate remarks.
According to one legislator, she supported the unlawful strikes taking place in Bolton, and such statements by a minister’s wife could have negative influence on the ongoing strikes in Merlin…”
Rose’s lack of direct comment on the Bolton strikes had been twisted into support.
Even this kind of low-grade lie?
Ray clicked his tongue quietly.
He did not want to agree with his troublesome wife, but Archibald Avery was undeniably a “bastard.” An inappropriate word perhaps—but entirely accurate.
The level of distortion suggested Avery had been deeply insulted.
This will be a busy few days.
Just as he was about to close the newspaper, the bedroom door burst open.
Agatha stormed into her son’s room, and Ray looked at her calmly. Her face was pale.
For a woman who had remained composed even under artillery fire during the war, being this shocked meant this marriage was something extraordinary.
If it were before, this would have been unimaginable. But since Rose became the Duchess, incidents like this had become frequent in the Crawford household.
For example, Agatha raising her voice in front of guests despite hating it, or barging into her son’s bedroom without manners.
“I’ve been seeing a new side of you lately, Mother. It’s refreshing.”
At Ray’s words, Agatha froze for a moment.
Her son had a talent for insulting people under the guise of jokes. He had learned it from her, so she knew it well.
Even though his tone was gentle, Agatha felt a hidden edge in it—but she wondered if that was just her imagination.
“…You… that girl, that girl…”
She couldn’t even finish her sentence.
“Did you know she was a smoker?”
Her whisper was careful, as if speaking something unspeakable.
“Don’t worry, I made her quit. You know she hasn’t smoked once in Orthura.”
“You knew all of this and still—!”
Agatha raised her voice.
“You knew she used to work as a piano teacher to earn money, didn’t you?”
“I believe I heard something like that. She also worked as an accompanist to earn a little.”
“How could you hide something like that! What else are you hiding from me? More things about that girl!”
“If I told you,”
Ray placed the newspaper gently on the side table and sighed lightly.
“Would anything change now? If I listed all her flaws, would you have opposed the marriage?”
Agatha could not answer.
“Of course I investigated her. Did you think I would marry someone without knowing what kind of woman she is? If she had been completely unacceptable, I wouldn’t have cared whether you fasted or crossed the River Tees.”
Agatha’s face turned pale under his emotionless words.
