People often say the past is beautiful, but if asked to return to that life, they would surely hesitate. That’s because life, more often than not, is a string of shabby miseries—and only success can polish those memories into something worth romanticizing.

And Lucas’s past, even from an objective standpoint, was pathetic.

Back when he lived in the Hadrian Empire, he had been a street orphan. He grew up in the orphanage of the Hastings County but couldn’t endure the beatings and ran away. Since then, he had barely survived, stealing on the streets from a young age. He hadn’t wanted to live like that, but he held on purely through the animal instinct of “not wanting to die.”

At least until the day he caught the eye of Cordelia, the young lady of the territory, when she was fifteen.

“Want to lose a hand, or be a servant?”

Back then, he’d thought the girl’s hand was one of salvation. She gave a wretched wretch like him a corner of the great Hastings estate, a life without beatings, and toys only noblemen could afford from time to time.

So of course, he couldn’t help but develop feelings he shouldn’t have dared to feel toward his savior.

And Cordelia had accepted those feelings.

A noble lady had accepted the greedy affections of a lowborn bastard—how could that greed not turn into delusion?

Perhaps, just perhaps… they were meant to be.

There was a time when he’d fooled himself into believing that—before she left him behind and the Count’s people buried him like he was nothing.

Now twenty-three, Lucas found himself burning with rage not at all those countless pitiful memories of the past—but at the moment he realized the truth.

“…Ha.”

Lucas, who had been facing away from Cordelia this whole time, finally turned to face her. The woman, who had avoided his gaze ever since their wedding anniversary, flinched and turned pale. It was only when Randolph had a trivial nosebleed that she finally met his gaze — how amusing.

First, Lucas took note of her pale, elegant neck; then he let his gaze drift to her still-bare left ring finger. A faint smirk tugged at his lips.

“Come to think of it, you’re not wearing the gifts I gave you, madam.”

“…What?”

“The necklace I gave you for our anniversary. And the wedding ring.”

“You…”

Cordelia glanced from the back of his hand to his face, her eyes wide with disbelief. She had no idea what this man was thinking.

“After deceiving me like that, you’re angry now because I’m not wearing those fake gifts? In a situation like this?”

“You’re not wearing the things that allowed you to be here—don’t you think that alone is reason enough?”

“They were lies you handed me in exchange for destroying my family.”

Cordelia responded as calmly as she could. If she didn’t restrain herself, she feared that she would lose control and her voice would break.

On their wedding anniversary, she had just learned the truth and was too stunned to argue effectively. Looking back now, however, she regretted not saying more:

There were the bad investments, her family’s downfall, and the coldness of former acquaintances. It was a wretched phase of her life.

But during this awkward confrontation, none of that came to mind. It was love. She had crossed the ocean and started a new life because she believed in it.

“So no, I don’t want to wear them. You didn’t even love me.”

“Love, you say.”

Lucas looked down at Cordelia, his gaze filled with ridicule.

Love. Of all the words in the world, wasn’t that the least appropriate for someone like her to say? She’d long since forgotten the lies she’d told. Hadn’t she once dreamed of becoming the duchess of a noble house? She had forgotten how she had left him to rot in an endless hell, waiting endlessly for a rescue that never came.

And yet, even so, he could not bring himself to accuse her of it. That would mean dredging up things he didn’t want to remember: his wounds, his broken pride, and the affections she’d trampled on.

Why should he confront a woman who had treated him like a mere practice doll for romantic play?

Instead, Lucas gave her a faint smile. He wanted to crack open this lofty, noble woman’s shell to reveal the fragile, festering weakness within. He wanted to place it in the palm of his hand and crush it to confirm that she, too, could fall. That she was nothing but human.

“You’re right. I never loved you—not even a little.”

“……”

“But the question is—can you leave me now?”

Lucas loosened his tie and tossed it carelessly to the floor.

Cordelia’s eyes followed the curve of his tie in stunned silence before darting back to his face.

When he began to roughly unbutton his shirt, she felt her knees threatening to give way.

She had seen that body countless times over the past year.

And yet, the moment his torso appeared from beneath his open white shirt, she gasped.

He had looked unremarkable in a tailored suit, but now he was undressed, his body was sculpted with thick muscle, forged by years of labour and training.

It seemed to burn with life, each muscle fibre blazing like a midsummer sun.

The heat radiating from him made her skin tingle.

“Are you saying… we’re doing this today?”

“Why not?”

He placed one broad hand firmly on her waist, drawing her helplessly into his embrace.

The moment her chest pressed against his, Cordelia gasped. The sensation she felt below stunned her into opening her eyes wide.

“Ah…!”

“We’re husband and wife.”
“Don’t you dare use that word after deceiving me!”

“Don’t make this complicated, Cordelia. You have nothing but me.”

Cordelia tried to push against his chest with both hands, but his firm grip around her waist prevented her from moving.

His eyes were sharp and cold, but the palm touching her skin felt scorching hot, as if it might brand her.

As she glared at him with wide, furious eyes, he leaned in and whispered in a languid voice.

“No matter how horrible I am, as long as we stay married, you lose nothing.”

“……”

“Or would you rather go back to when we first met? This time, you wouldn’t even be the second wife. You’d just be passed around as someone’s mistress in this place.”

“…Ha.”

“Well?”

Cordelia bit down on her lower lip so hard that it started to bleed. Although he hadn’t actually said the word, it was clear that he was threatening a divorce.

She recalled the mockery and vulgar insults of his men. She could imagine how they would rejoice at the news that Duke Duquesne had rejected her and that she had nowhere left to go.

The world was cruel like that. It didn’t matter how high or low one’s status was once a woman stood alone, society showed no mercy.

‘Refusing to sleep with him… if he sues for divorce, it’ll be used against me.’

As vile as this marriage was, the idea of a lawsuit from the Duquesne family and debt collectors knocking at her door was even more unbearable.

‘Open this door right now! Lady Hastings, we know you’re in there!’
‘Send that furniture to the auction house. Lady, step aside. Heirloom or not, what do you want us to do?’

The shouting and harassment still echoed in her ears like a hallucination. She had endured far too much of it in the Old Continent.

After much deliberation, she made a decision.

‘It was going to come to this eventually.’

Luckily, she had secretly obtained birth control and taken it. It was better to get through this one time and delay the next as long as possible.

“…Just once.”

Cordelia turned her face away and whispered. She lowered her voice, stripping it of all feeling, as if it no longer hurt, ss if she had simply grown numb to him.

“I can’t live with you like I used to. So do what you want, then leave.”

“…Ha.”

Lucas let out a short, bitter laugh at the way she spoke to him, like she was giving orders to a cleaning servant.

So this is how humans are: subjugated by money and the desire for safety.

A mischievous sparkle appeared in Lucas’s eyes as he took Cordelia’s left hand in his.

Without warning, he lifted it and lightly bit her ring finger.

Cordelia nearly cried out in shock at the unexpected pain.

“Kh…”

“Cordelia! Go and get the ring first.”

Lucas whispered, leaving a faint bite mark on her slender finger.

“I’ll make sure you never take it off again.”

***

After the family dinner gathering ended, innocent porcelain ornaments suffered collateral damage inside the Randolph couple’s mansion on Millionaire Row.

“Argh, damn it…!”

Randolph had cotton stuffed into both nostrils and an unsightly bandage stuck across his severely swollen nose.

His nasal bone had miraculously survived, but from now on, whenever he appeared at a gathering, people would undoubtedly ask him what had happened.

Nevertheless, Richard, who believed that the person who gets hit looks worse than the person who hits them, showed no sympathy, even though his aide was bleeding profusely from the nose.

Although Alicia found her husband’s battered state disgraceful, her own fury from tonight’s dinner remained intense.

“I can’t believe how shameless those two are. Pretending to be so noble while shamelessly eyeing the successor position, do they feel no shame at all?”

“Ha, exactly my point. That lowborn bastard.”

“…Wait, is Lucas really from a lowly background?”