Richt Calitheon.

It was no exaggeration to say that he had as much influence as the Emperor in the Empire. The territories he owned were comparable to those owned by the imperial family, and his ongoing businesses and vast wealth were felt throughout the land.

Moreover, he was praised as the most excellent and perfect of all the Calitheon dukes in history. His self-discipline and abilities were praiseworthy, and the way he restrained his desires even made people wonder if he was truly human with hot blood flowing through his veins.

There was something strange about such a man. The muscles of his face and the lines of his mouth were normal, but his pure black eyes glowed eerily. You had to look closely to see it, but Fabian, his longtime attendant, didn’t miss it.

The eyes of Duke Calitheon, engrossed in scrutinizing the budget of the ongoing projects, moved briskly. Fabian glanced shrewdly at his master, whose eyes were fixed on the papers.

“Are all these things necessary?”

“Yes. The cost of importing sulfur from Hert has risen, and the laborers are demanding higher wages due to the recent heatwave. Our existing funds are insufficient.”

“Didn’t you give them a raise not long ago?”

“Yes, but with the recent heat wave, work has been slow, so they’re asking for more.”

“I can’t fulfill all their demands. It’s human nature to want more and more. If you start granting one, they’ll endlessly seek to satisfy their greed.”

Richt twisted his lips in a displeased manner. There was an unmistakable change in his mood.

“We’ll discuss this issue again after I go down to Panador and meet with the administrator. In the meantime, let’s get on with the rest of this.”

“Yes.”

Leaving his office, Fabian immediately thought of Isabelle Calitheon. Whenever the master let his emotions get the better of him, it always involved her.

There was a time when Fabian thought Richt was a man who had no interest in desire. He lived an exquisitely tailored life, seemingly unconcerned with momentary or shallow pleasures.

Especially regarding his relationships with women, he seemed almost ascetic, to the point that Fabian sometimes wondered if he had no manly desires or if he had unique preference. As it turned out, Fabian was wrong.

Richt was like any other male, just not a man who lightly pursued any woman. However, with marriage, Richt had shown a side unfamiliar to Fabian. Of course, it was a change visible only to Fabian, who had served him for a long time.

Despite appearing emotionless in everything, Richt had been tormented by a thirst for his wife. Fabian found it quite astonishing. He didn’t know what was driving him, but he was certain that Isabelle had meant so much to him.

It was the same now. Something was wrong with their marriage. That’s why the man who was usually so relaxed and calm was so nervous and impatient.

For Fabian, who was used to seeing Richt unaffected by emotions, the unfamiliar sight was perplexing. Yet, Fabian pretended not to notice the subtle changes surrounding him.

Because it was not his place to intervene recklessly.

***

Richt had to go down to Barsk to reconcile with Isabelle, but the affairs in the capital took longer than expected. His stay in Vechilin was now well over a week, and he was growing impatient.

With each passing day, his regrets multiplied. He shouldn’t have been so emotional with her. Her tearful pleading face continued to haunt him. It wasn’t something he expected to be so emotionally affected by. Perhaps she grew weary of him and his increasingly burdensome nature.

There wasn’t anything that particularly came to mind when he tried to deduce various reasons. He couldn’t understand Isabelle’s feelings, as she never spoke about her discontent. He assumed everything was fine, as she never complained.

As soon as he had taken care of his urgent business, Richt came down to Barsk with a bouquet of blue hydrangeas for Isabelle.

Getting off the carriage, Richt’s steps were uneasy as he entered the mansion. The butler, Lucien, approached hurriedly and greeted him respectfully.

“You have come, Your Grace.”

“Where is Isabelle?”

Lucien hesitated, his face showing signs of discomfort. Richt frowned at the lack of a quick answer. There was no time for leisurely conversation with the butler.

“I ask you, where is Isabelle?”

“She… she went to her family’s home.”

“What?”

Thinking he might have misheard, Richt asked again, but the response remained the same. A feeling akin to blood draining from his body overwhelmed him. Richt’s facial muscles froze.

“She left without a word? Why didn’t she contact me?”

Richt’s voice rose. Lucien, gauging his master’s mood, watched cautiously.

The bouquet he held slipped from his hand and fell to the floor forlornly. His thoughts of apologizing and repairing their relationship had already shattered into pieces.

In the moment, when Richt was about to raise his voice at Lucien, a voice interjected.

“What can you do to stop her if she’s determined to leave?”

It was Diana, his mother.

“What’s going on between you two?”

“…”

“She said she didn’t want to spend another day in this house, and it was no use trying to talk her out of it.”

“…”

“A quiet child becomes resilient once they decide to assert themselves.”

Richt’s face crumpled into a grimace. He callously trampled over the scattered branches of hydrangeas on the woven mat as he headed towards the bedroom. He wanted to see it with his own eyes.

After checking the furniture, including the nightstand and cabinets, and opening the dresser next to the bed, Richt let out a bitter laugh.

The crimson silk dress he gave Isabelle on her first birthday celebration with him, the sapphire necklace he gifted on their anniversary, the exotic fox fur he imported, and other expensive jewelry were all still there. Many boxes were even unopened.

Everything Richt had poured his heart into was cruelly discarded. Only the belongings she brought when they got married were gone.

He was furious at what he perceived to be Isabelle’s willingness to completely sever ties with him. And a terrible sense of betrayal, like he had never imagined he could feel toward his wife.

Why. How could she disappear like this?

Not only did she announce a divorce, but she vanished without a word of discussion. This bold move, this audacity to cut ties completely, was something Richt never imagined.

It truly didn’t seem like the Isabelle he knew. She wasn’t someone who acted on her whims. He wondered how fed up was she with him, to the point of discarding everything. Richt couldn’t comprehend her decision.

His gaze scanned the empty room, sharp as shards of glass. Despite doing his best for his wife and still trying to make it up to her, Isabelle discarded everything and left.

Was our marriage really this disposable? Was our relationship only worth this much?          

How could she leave so easily, how could I be nothing to her?

As he looked around the room, devoid of her warmth, the reality of her departure hit him.

What he thought was a sturdy fortress turned out to be a sandcastle, swept away and shattered by a single wave. He clenched his fists in despair.

Throughout his life, nothing has gone against Richt’s will. It should have been the same for Isabelle. She was his, no matter what anyone said. It’s an unmistakable fact that needs no explanation.

So, she must come back. No one has the authority to leave Calitheon Manor easily, to leave him, to say otherwise. The smoothly curved corners of his mouth twitched into what looked like a smile, but his eyes weren’t smiling at all.

You shouldn’t be doing this, Isabelle, you can’t leave like this.