TPWSM 00

Prologue

Tick. Tock.

The sound of the second hand on the clock suddenly began to irritate me, so I glanced at the desk clock.

The hour and minute hands were now overlapping for the last time today.

“It’s already midnight. I should get going to the pawnshop.”

I slid a bookmark into the estate’s financial report I’d been reading all evening and closed it.

It was a muggy midsummer night. I shooed away a bug that had been buzzing around the oil lamp and sent it out the window. I was just about to turn off the light and leave the office when—

Knock, knock, knock.

Someone rapped on the door.

Who could it be at this hour? I grabbed the doorknob and cracked the door open.

A familiar face.

Moreno, the treasurer who works under me. He looked like he had something urgent to say, so I let him in. Only after making sure the door was firmly closed behind him did he speak.

“Lady Alisa. I know you must be busy with lordship matters, and I’m sorry to trouble you, but…”

The middle-aged treasurer, with sunken cheeks, was sweating profusely, glancing at me nervously.

He opened with a preamble but didn’t follow it up. Annoyed, I prompted him.

“Moreno, if you have something to say, hurry up. It’s late and I’m tired.”

“Ahem. Well, it’s about the Grand Duke…”

He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his brow. His face was tense, and the wrinkles on his forehead looked as deep as furrows.

“What? Is there some problem with my husband?”

Why show up in the middle of the night and bring up my husband out of nowhere? How urgent could it be?

“…It seems he has a woman.”

He closed his eyes tightly and said this with a grim expression.

Ah.

So, he’s saying my husband has a woman.

A sigh slipped between my lips.

Not impossible. He was a prince from a defeated country who married me under the guise of an alliance—essentially as a political hostage.

It’s not far-fetched that he might already have had someone in his heart. Though he claimed he’d never been in love.

“Your proof?”

“He suddenly asked if he could withdraw two hundred thousand Lebel from his personal budget. When I asked what for, he clammed up.”

“…And?”

“You’ve always managed budgets with full transparency, my lady. No spending without records or receipts. So of course, I told him no.”

Two hundred thousand Lebel—that’s the price of a fine stone house.

Where would one spend that much all at once?

“And how does that lead to the conclusion that he has a woman?”

“One of the Grand Duke’s personal guards has been quietly looking for a house. From what I heard from brokers, he’s searching for a high-end home where a woman could live safely on her own.”

“Any other proof?”

“A letter was found in the Grand Duke’s desk drawer. We had someone who knows a bit of Dvorkian read it—it was clearly a love letter.”

“…So, you think he plans to give the money to whoever wrote that letter?”

“He hasn’t been here long, yet suddenly he wants to buy a house. He claims it’s for his guard, but it doesn’t add up. Even for a personal guard brought from home, you don’t just buy them a house outright.”

“Rare, yes.”

“Yes, exactly! I think he’s still seeing his lover from Pardon Island. At his age, and with that face, what else would he be hiding a large sum for? He’s probably planning to bring her here, set her up in a nearby house, and make her his mistress!”

The treasurer’s voice grew confident as he finished.

Pardon Island—his country’s last remaining territory. The defeated royal family’s refuge, their final stronghold.

“I see. You can go now.”

“…Pardon?”

“I said I understand. You can leave.”

I don’t know what kind of reaction he expected from me.

Right now, I’m busy. Whether my husband has a woman or not…

Officially, he’s only my husband on paper. We first met on our wedding day a month ago. His crystalline, ice-like face and the kind of well-built physique that would rival any knight were… admittedly, a shock.

But that was all.

I’d let myself think we’d grown closer while living together—sharing the occasional warm conversation.

But a few days ago, he up and left. Right in front of me.

No matter how desperately I called after him, he didn’t look back. It ended as a brief incident, but even now…

It seems he wants to leave me.

Those sweet words that had sometimes melted my heart? Probably never sincere. When I think about it, there’s really nothing between us. We kissed only at the wedding and never even consummated the marriage.

What was there between us?

Marriage flyers scattered and trampled in the streets. A faded portrait painted of him when he was sixteen. A treaty signed by the victorious king and the defeated queen.

Just scraps of paper binding us in a political marriage.

…Now that this interruption is over, it’s time for me to get to my real work.

I strode quickly through my bedroom and into the dark walk-in closet.

I shrugged off my dress and dug through a storage cabinet in the corner. Out came a black shirt and narrow trousers. I stuffed myself into them, then pulled a jet-black wig low over my head. Straight-cut bangs fell over my eyes.

A translucent veil covered my nose. Leather gloves up to my wrists went on my hands.

Lastly, I threw on a black robe down to my ankles, pulled the hood over my head, and tied it tight under my chin.

Looking suspicious enough for anyone to take notice, I leapt out the closet window.

I landed lightly on the grass and headed for a hidden passageway at the back of the lord’s manor.

A narrow entrance like a rabbit hole came into view. I ducked low and walked quickly through the winding path.

At the end, my personal maid, Katarina, stood waiting with her arms crossed—dressed exactly like me.

“You’re here.”

“Let’s go.”

We finally arrived at a two-story tavern with a large grain warehouse attached.

On its moonlit stone sign was the name I’d personally carved: The Melody of Night and Music.

I pushed open the half-ajar door.

Under the dim oil lamps, customers swayed to the beat of a mandolin.

Sometimes I join them for a dance, but tonight I had another purpose.

I crossed the dance floor and descended the creaky wooden stairs.

Step. Step. Step.

The secret pawnshop in the tavern’s underground room.

As always, a long line stood in front of the rusty old iron door.

At the sight of me, the waiting crowd’s eyes lit up. Roughly two dozen people—all here to borrow money from me.

“Hello, madam!”

“Madam! Please take care of us!”

They greeted me warmly and waved.

I just gave a silent nod.

They believed I was a mute pawnshop owner. Since I never spoke and only communicated with Katarina through sign language, they assumed I was deaf.

Blansk was a small inland city in the south-central part of the defeated country.

Near the end of the war, it became part of my territory.

At night, I worked here incognito, running an underground financial business—

—to lend start-up funds to locals at low interest.

Why in secret? Because they were reluctant to borrow from me—a member of the invading royal family.

No matter how desperate, their patriotism and pride wouldn’t allow them to openly hold out their hands.

I unlocked the iron door and went inside, sinking into a leather sofa.

Clink.

At Katarina’s ring of the bell, the first customer came in.

A tall man—so tall I had to tilt my head back—wearing a black hooded robe, a cloth covering his face. Strangely similar attire to mine.

I gestured to the chair opposite me.

He sat upright, silent for a while, until Katarina urged him,

“Sir, please start by introducing yourself.”

“…My name is Danil.”

I flinched at once. A deep yet smooth baritone—familiar.

Leaning forward, I studied his face.

Even with the hood and headscarf, I could see it: the smooth ivory forehead, a few pale silver strands escaping.

I pulled the oil lamp closer to the table for a better look.

Beneath pronounced brows, violet eyes glistened—sometimes as delicate as dewy violets, other times as cold as raw amethyst.

Only one man had such eyes.

The nominal ruler of defeated Dvorka—Grand Duke Davit Mikhailo.

…My husband.

Katarina seemed to realize it too; she’d heard his voice before.

“Yes, Danil. What will you be pawning? An item, a skill—show us. The lady will personally determine its value.”

Her voice wavered slightly.

The man nodded slowly and pulled something from his sleeve—a handful of items that caught the lamplight.

Familiar jewelry spilled across the table:

A garnet ring. A sapphire bracelet. An emerald necklace. A peridot brooch.

I knew exactly what these were.

They were the wedding gifts I’d given him just before the banquet.

So… since he can’t touch his assigned budget, he’s come to pawn his wedding gifts to borrow from an underground financier?

I rolled up my sleeves and signed to Katarina:

[What is this man doing here?]

When I touched my temple with my right index finger, she quickly brushed her right hand upward twice over her chest, shaking her head—she had no idea.

The man glanced between us, his almond-shaped eyes widening.

“Am I not allowed to be here? More importantly… do you know me?”

What?

Cold sweat slid down my back.

He had understood our signs perfectly.

[No. First time meeting. It’s just been a long while since a male customer came in.]

Embarrassed at being caught, I lied.

If he knew sign language, all the better. I’d get straight to the point.

[What do you need the money for? I don’t lend without knowing the purpose.]

“…I want to hire mercenaries.”

[Planning a rebellion?]

He shook his head firmly.

“Nothing like that. There’s someone I must urgently rescue from far away.”

[Who?]

I brushed the back of my bent fingers twice down my cheek.

Was the treasurer right about him bringing a lover? I hadn’t wanted to believe it without proof.

“My younger sister. She’s sixteen this year.”

His voice was heavy and somber, lashes trembling as they lowered. Even with his nose and mouth covered, he looked painfully beautiful.

As Katarina translated his words into signs, I leaned back in my chair.

‘…What kind of shameless lie is this?’

I knew the truth—

As the youngest child of the defeated king, he had no younger sister.

[You say you have a sister.]

“Yes. And she’s in a very difficult situation.”

[What kind of situation?]

“…She’s about to be sold off as a second wife. To a man forty years her senior.”

He spoke with a choked voice.

Watching his brazen act, I suddenly became curious—

Just how many layers of lies was my so-called husband wrapped in?

Fine. I’d play along… and strip them all away.

[Then you don’t need to borrow from me.]

“What do you mean?”

[I run my own mercenary guild. Would you like to meet them?]

Relief flashed in his eyes.

…After he left the pawnshop, I rubbed my face and thought,

How on earth did I end up marrying such a sly man?

Truth is, this marriage might never have happened at all—

If only I hadn’t run my mouth in front of the king that day.