🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 35
“Do you really have to marry him? Why that man, of all people? There are so many other good ones out there.”
Back then, when Asmoph announced her marriage to Guilford, Emperor Ludbalt did not support her decision.
His concerns were valid, of course. Asmoph was the Emperor’s right hand, the leader of alchemists, and a hero known as the Grand Magus. Guilford, on the other hand, had nothing. No wealth, no connections, not even a clear background—he was an orphan of unknown origin.
“I just don’t know him well. You’ve only met him recently. How can you trust him?”
Akali also opposed the marriage. She suspected the string of “coincidental” meetings and wondered if Guilford was hiding ulterior motives.
“Boss, please reconsider. That guy’s eyes give me chills.”
Even Noah, her most trusted subordinate, warned against Guilford.
Of course, they only said such things out of concern for Asmoph. But there was one thing they had all forgotten—
The very same worries they now voiced about Guilford were once spoken about her when she had chosen to stay at their side.
She, too, had been an orphan. An outsider. At some point, her noble friends had conveniently forgotten that fact.
“Everyone thinks you’re invincible.”
“—Well, that’s because I’m the Grand Magus.”
“Grand Magus… Then allow me the audacity to say this: no matter how powerful your magic, you’re still just one human. And humans… die far more easily than you think. So please, be careful.”
Everyone thought she was rushing into marriage. But truthfully, she had waited a long time. To fall in love with Guilford, she hadn’t even needed the time it takes to share a cup of tea.
Her friends and subordinates loved her, but they could never truly understand the weight of the title “Grand Magus” on her shoulders. She was strong, a genius, a monster—that was how they saw her.
“Only Guilford saw me as a human.”
He was the first and last person to acknowledge the fragility in her heart. He was the only one in the world she could show her most vulnerable, defenseless self.
So, against everyone’s opposition, Asmoph married the man with nothing, and she lived happily with him. They even had a child.
Contrary to all expectations, those few years were the happiest and most precious of her life.
“You’re always writing letters.”
After clashes with the insufferable people at the palace, she would come home to find her husband waiting.
Caría—awkwardly imitating a gentleness she’d never used in her life—would approach Guilford, and he would greet her with a soft smile.
“I’m just sending regards to a distant friend.”
“You have too many friends.”
Through him, she learned what it was like to sulk and complain. Before, she had always pursued great truths of the world, but the more time she spent with him, the more she found joy in little things she had never cared about before. Everything around her brought happiness.
“Write one to me too.”
“But we’re always together. I can just say it to you—no need for a letter.”
“—Then if we’re ever apart, will you write me one?”
Guilford had laughed and said that would never happen. And yes, it should never have happened.
“Guilford, where are you now? If you still remember me, please send me a letter.”
As his face began to fade, she realized this was a dream. She wanted to see him just a little longer, even if only in dreams, but her cursed mind grew clearer, and light seeped in, brightening her vision.
When she awoke from her doze, she gasped sharply.
Because the beloved face she had only ever seen behind her eyelids was suddenly right before her eyes.
“Would you like to receive a letter?”
Caría, who had unconsciously reached out her hand, snapped back to herself at the playful voice.
It wasn’t Guilford. It was Noah, the captain of the Black Night Mercenaries.
With tired eyes, Caría looked around. She had dozed off in the study she’d set up in her townhouse, deeper in sleep than she’d intended. Outside, the sky was already painted red.
“I thought I’d wait since you were sleeping, but it’s getting late. You mentioned a request?”
“Ah.”
Caría rubbed her face, shaking off the last traces of drowsiness, and stood. She called for her maid to bring her outerwear. She had planned to go out that afternoon, but had spent too long in the dream.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s talk on the way, if that’s fine.”
“No problem. I was served tea anyway.”
He shot a smiling glance toward the butler standing at the door, and the butler bowed in return with his usual kind expression.
“How’s living alone treating you?”
“Comfortable. The servants are skilled, and the Black Night mercenaries are well-suited for guard duty. They’re even surprisingly versed in etiquette. Like knights pretending to be mercenaries. Worth every coin.”
Noah simply smiled at her sharp observation without bothering to make excuses.
“I’m glad it pleases you.”
“But I noticed something strange. Even after buying a house and openly walking around with mercenaries, the rumors are spreading slower than expected. That’s why I called you.”
For the past week since leaving the ducal house, Caría had made a point of visiting every notable place in the capital—dress shops, jewelers, furniture stores, famous cafés, museums, auction houses, even the opera. Anywhere nobles gathered, she showed her face.
Yet the rumors of marital discord in the Pandéon household weren’t spreading as they should.
Even Alcárd, whom she had casually run into earlier that day, looked completely clueless when she mentioned divorce.
At this point, it was clear someone was deliberately suppressing the rumors—whether it was the Pandéon duchy, the Archduke’s house, or both.
“The Black Night specializes in gathering gossip. That means you can spread it too, right?”
“You’d like us to spread the news of your divorce widely?”
“That’s good, but… rumors only spread aggressively if there’s something juicy. We need something spicier.”
Caría paused mid-step, lost in thought. Artificially spreading rumors had its limits. If the chain of chatter broke, people would lose interest and the rumor would die.
To keep it alive, it had to be the kind of rumor that made people itch to talk about it.
With that thought, her lips curved into a dark smile.
“How about: ‘The Duke of Pandéon had an affair’?”
“He what? That bastard cheated too?!”
Noah exploded before she even finished speaking. Caría blinked at him in surprise, and realizing he had overreacted, Noah quickly looked away and cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Well, maybe not. But even if it isn’t true, so what?”
“What do you mean, so what?”
“My dear husband has quite the pretty face—he’s very popular. And with me, his wife, locked up in the mansion all the time, I posed no threat. If word gets out, there will be plenty of women eager to claim the role of mistress.”
Caría chuckled bitterly. Being ignored had at least one advantage. If an actual mistress appeared, they could use her for their own side; if not, people would naturally grow curious about Caría’s actions.
“Besides, he’s the kind of man who ‘accidentally’ spends the night with his wife and then acts mortified in the morning. Hardly surprising.”
She still hadn’t forgotten that humiliating day.
So he decides alone that they won’t have children, and just informs her as if that’s final?
In hindsight, it was fortunate they hadn’t had a child. But she would never forget his expression and voice from that day.
“Turns out he was an even bigger bastard than I thought—”
“Hm? Did you say something?”
“No. If you didn’t hear it, never mind.”
Caría thought she had heard Noah mutter something savagely under his breath, but dismissed it and resumed walking.
Then she stopped again, startled by the sight before her—hundreds of steps stretched upward.
They stood before the central staircase leading to the entrance. It wasn’t as steep as the Pandéon stairs she had once fallen down, but it was still high enough to be dangerous if one missed a step.
“Come to think of it, it was falling down stairs that brought back my past life’s memories.”
Her eyes slid slowly toward Noah.
“Could it be the same for others?”
As she suddenly fell silent and stared at him, Noah reflexively offered a smile.
But Caría didn’t respond. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on him, long and steady. Her intense stare made Noah’s face burn and cold sweat run down his back.
“W-Why are you looking at me like that all of a sudden?”
Flustered, he stammered. Caría slowly raised her hand toward him. Her pale, slender fingers, once thought beautiful, now looked like the web spun by a spider.
Perhaps because her eyes now gleamed like a predatory spider about to ensnare its prey.
Sensing danger instinctively, Noah debated countless times in that moment whether to step back before her fingers reached him.
It felt as though if he stayed still, she might actually strangle him right there.
“—Your clothes are a little disheveled.”
“T-thank you.”
But when her fingertips touched him, her demeanor softened. Her hand simply straightened his clothes, as though that had been her intention all along. The gesture was casual, almost indifferent, but Noah only drew breath again after her hand withdrew.
