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Chapter 1
The Duchess had returned.
Because of that, the entire Seyden Ducal House was thrown into chaos.
Although the persistent rain blurred visibility, the impression of the figure standing in the downpour was unmistakably vivid.
Hair the color of fine coral, snow-white skin glowing faintly under storm clouds, and limpid, watery blue eyes that softened an otherwise aloof expression.
Every servant in the ducal household knew her. Even those who had only once brushed past her couldn’t forget that face. And they had served her as the lady of the house for nearly a month—of course they recognized her.
Even wearing a shabby and ill-fitting dress, her natural beauty and nobility could not be hidden.
Most of all, the Duke—who never let anyone near him—was now gently holding an umbrella and embracing the woman tenderly. There was no more room for doubt.
The Duchess, whom everyone thought dead, had returned.
“H-how could this be…”
A maid who had been wiping the rain-speckled window shrieked. She trembled so violently that the rag in her hand fell to the floor.
“What’s wrong, Amy?”
“There’s something outside… Wait, is that the Duchess?!”
“What are you saying? Don’t talk about the Duchess who committed suicide. It’s bad luck.”
Another maid who had been polishing the floor grumbled as she turned her gaze to the window with the others. Her eyes landed on the two figures standing beneath an umbrella, looking up at the mansion.
Shock dawned on her weary face.
“Kyaaah!”
A sharp scream shook the quiet mansion.
It happened on an otherwise unremarkable afternoon, fifteen days after the Duchess had disappeared.
The grand main hall of the ducal mansion was bustling with people who had gathered to see the Duchess. Everyone from the lowliest kitchen hand to the stable boys from the outer quarters had rushed over at the news. Yet despite the crowd, the hall was dead silent.
Every wide-eyed gaze was fixed on the ducal couple. The sound of rain filled the hush with a chilling presence.
“So this is the place…”
At the center of the commotion, the Duchess stood calmly. She turned her head slowly, surveying the mansion. Her pale complexion and the way she leaned weakly against the Duke’s embrace gave the impression of someone still recovering, arousing pity among the onlookers.
Just as she was about to speak again—
“Who… Who returned, did you say?”
A silver-haired man, appearing from the stairs, glided down swiftly. Perhaps he had rushed over while attending to state affairs—his shirt cuffs were undone and disheveled.
“Lord Logue, well, um…”
“What nonsense is this? You’re saying that girl came back to life?!”
The man’s pale face was even more bloodless than the Duchess’s. He looked more unwell than the person supposedly recovering.
The gathered servants quickly stepped aside, forming a path. The man stormed through and came to stand directly in front of the ducal couple.
He stared at the Duchess for a long while in disbelief before finally managing to speak.
“Why are you… How…?”
His raised finger trembled violently. Realizing how ridiculous he looked, he quickly lowered and clenched his hand.
His breathing was harsh and erratic.
The Duchess blinked at him, then turned to the Duke holding her.
“Who is he?”
“What—what did you just say…?”
The man was not the only one stunned by the question. Gasps and murmurs broke out at the Duchess’s rudeness.
The air in the mansion grew taut with tension.
Yet the Duke answered smoothly, as if unaffected by the shocked silence surrounding them.
“This is my maternal uncle, Sir Aldrich Logue. He’s been acting as duke in my stead.”
“Acting as duke? But you’re perfectly healthy—why is your uncle serving as regent?”
“Because I have not yet officially inherited the title of duke. It’s a long story.”
“I want to hear it. I should know, shouldn’t I?”
The Duchess looked up at him with wide, earnest eyes. Her gaze sparkled like the ocean under the midday sun.
The Duke stared at her for a moment, then bent his head slightly.
“Don’t push it.”
He murmured quietly, for her ears only.
His voice was cold, laced with warning. The Duchess froze momentarily. But she recovered in time to let out a shy laugh—like a woman delighted by sweet nothings whispered in her ear.
Their closeness and tender expressions made them look like lovers deeply in love. The watching servants’ eyes widened. Aldrich Logue too stared at the pair in stunned disbelief.
“What is going on here, Tenus?”
The man referred to as “the Duke”—Tenus—replied in his usual calm tone.
“Selachia has lost her memory.”
“Lost her memory?”
“Exactly. She has no other injuries, but her health is still fragile. She needs rest. A formal reintroduction should wait.”
Still holding Selachia close, Tenus glanced meaningfully at the stairs behind Aldrich. Though courteous in tone, his meaning was clear—make way.
Aldrich pressed his lips together and gave a curt nod. Tenus responded with a careless dip of his head and turned toward the bedroom with Selachia.
A few quick-witted servants tried to follow, but Tenus waved them away.
As the couple ascended the stairs, dozens of eyes followed them intently.
Click.
The bedroom door shut behind them. They were finally free from the oppressive stares.
“Phew…”
Selachia let out a deep sigh of relief. The room was filled with the sweet scent of fresh flowers and the heavier presence of the man standing nearby.
She straightened her legs and quickly stepped away from him.
“Lord Logue looked utterly shocked. I was worried he might faint!”
Her lively voice shattered the silence of the room. Gone was the fragile woman they had just seen outside. She now smiled brightly and walked with confidence.
Selachia’s coral-colored hair floated in the air like flower petals. Tenus let her flit about the room and instead made his way to the table by the fireplace.
“He’s a delicate man prone to nervous breakdowns. It wouldn’t have been a surprise if he fainted from the shock.”
“Oh. Delicate. I see.”
Selachia chuckled under her breath at his sarcastic tone.
Tenus sat with his legs crossed, watching her as though she were a curiosity.
But she didn’t care. Selachia focused on taking in the room.
Golden silk curtains framed windows that looked out over a vast sea, ornate canopies draped like fish scales over the bed, priceless paintings hung on the walls, and vibrant fresh flowers sat in crystal vases.
She examined everything in the room—everything except Tenus.
“Life in the ducal house really is something else. This one room is bigger than the entire cabin I stayed in.”
“Sit.”
Tenus cut off her musings.
“We still have things to talk about.”
“Do we? I thought the deal was already done.”
Still standing far from him, Selachia continued lightly.
“Is this because you didn’t like my acting? I’m not a real actress, so this is the best I can do. We need to look like a loving couple so the marriage approval goes smoothly—just bear with me a little longer.”
He said nothing in response.
They were standing on opposite ends of the enormous room. Thinking maybe he hadn’t heard her, Selachia raised her voice slightly.
“I’m not doing this because I want to, you know. I have to give you what you want so I can leave this place.”
“That’s exactly why we need to talk.”
“What?”
“I figured you had the wrong idea.”
Her eyes finally met his for the first time since entering the room.
“What do you mean, wrong idea?”
“Even if the imperial palace approves our marriage, even if I inherit the dukedom…”
Tenus’s lips curled in a smooth, elegant smile.
“You will never be able to leave this place.”
His firm words made Selachia’s glassy blue eyes tremble.
This room, filled with only the finest items selected from across the continent, had just one incomparable beauty—the woman who owned it all.
Tenus Seyden.
His silver hair shimmered in the sunlight pouring through the tall windows. Selachia squinted, as though looking at something too dazzling.
His sculpted features were almost too perfect—beautiful, but disorienting. From the very first time she saw him, she had felt it.
His deep, abyss-colored eyes stirred unpleasant memories, making her stomach churn. Selachia clenched her dress and glared silently at the man who stood at the peak of the Seyden house.
“You brought me here because you needed someone to act as your wife, right? You promised in the carriage you’d let me go once you inherited the title.”
“I did?”
“When I said I’d give you everything you wanted in exchange for freedom, you—”
Ah. She stopped, biting her lip in frustration. Realization hit her.
In the carriage, Tenus had said nothing. He had simply stared at her. She had mistaken his silence as agreement.
“Making assumptions isn’t a good habit, Selachia.”
Tenus spoke gently, like scolding a child. His cold eyes sparkled faintly, as if mocking her.
“You signed the marriage contract yourself, didn’t you? You’re the Duchess of Seyden—my one and only wife. That fact will never change.”
He added with finality,
“Not even in death.”
Selachia was stunned by the unexpected reply.
Why?
To Tenus Seyden, she was nothing more than a tool to secure the dukedom. So why did his pale-blue eyes—usually filled with contempt—now burn with a possessive intensity?
“I told you—I don’t remember marrying you. I lost my memory.”
“Just because you don’t remember doesn’t mean our marriage didn’t happen, Duchess.”
The word “Duchess” grated on her ears. No matter how lovely the voice, the dissonance it caused couldn’t be ignored.
Selachia stepped forward, irritated. She pulled out the chair opposite Tenus with a bit too much force.
“How can you be sure I’m the real Duchess? I might just be someone who looks like her.”
Tenus looked at her indifferently. He didn’t even seem to think the question deserved a response.
She almost blushed with embarrassment, but refused to look away.
“You only saw her once, on the wedding day, right? You went straight to the Academy after that. Left the Duchess all alone in the mansion.”
Her sarcasm hit the mark. A flicker of change passed over Tenus’s expression. He raised one eyebrow.
“How do you know that? Didn’t you lose your memory?”
“I did. Not my hearing. Rumors get around, even in remote areas.”
“With those sharp ears, did you not hear that people were searching for a woman matching your description?”
“Well… Maybe I’ll hear it tomorrow. News travels slowly in that place.”
Selachia replied cheekily, then suddenly frowned.
“Why did you drop the formal speech? You weren’t like that before—outside the room, or before we came back.”
“It’s habit. I’ve spoken casually to you from the very beginning.”
His smooth reply was almost believable.
Selachia’s eyes glimmered with suspicion. She opened her mouth, as though to say something more—but changed her mind.
Instead, she relaxed her posture and leaned back into the chair.
Watching her sprawl so comfortably, Tenus let out a dry chuckle.
“You look very relaxed, Duchess.”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
