“Don’t feel wronged. You brought this upon yourself, Count.”

On the night she bid farewell to the deceased, Elizabeth whispered softly to the Count lying in the coffin.

“Did I say I stole something from you? How could a mere herbalist enter the Count’s heavily guarded room? You framed me to get what you wanted.”

Each word she spoke came out in a breath that shattered into white mist.

The icy wind brushed her cheeks, painting crimson blossoms on her pale skin.
But she had no time to feel the cold.

This was the moment of judgment she had long awaited.
And Elizabeth’s attention was fixed solely on Count Orte.

He was someone whose soulless body could be torn apart and it still wouldn’t feel like enough.

The red hair that symbolized the County of Orte, the harmonious features, the broad shoulders that exuded authority…
Outwardly, he was an impressive man.
But how many people had suffered in agony, deceived by that appearance?

Did the Count even understand how heavy and cruel the sins he committed were?

She wanted to distort his peacefully sleeping face, but there was no way to make the dead suffer.
So if his soul was still lingering near the corpse, she hoped it would hear her words.
If he could fully acknowledge his sins and carry their burden all the way to hell, she would have no regrets.

“You said you’d cut off my wrist? You should’ve done it right then, instead of just threatening me.
If you had, at least I wouldn’t have betrayed my husband.”

Her husband had volunteered as a mercenary to pay for the item in question.
While Elizabeth prayed for his safe return, the Count barged into her home.

With just a word, the Count could have her husband killed on the battlefield without anyone knowing.

He demanded marriage, claiming he could have her husband killed on the battlefield with a single word.

Elizabeth knew her husband would resent her, but there was nothing she could do.
If she wanted to save him, she had no choice but to accept this absurd marriage.

She tried to maintain a calm expression, but her lips trembled with suppressed rage.

The lavish wedding, the mocking gazes of the guests, the vows of false love…
Elizabeth had wanted none of it.

She wished time would pass quickly, yet also hoped it would stand still—because she dreaded the wedding night with the Count.

Fortunately, she fainted during the reception, and the first night was avoided.

“I regretted it not long after the wedding. I realized too late what kind of gift he had left behind.”

Fearing that Count Orte might kill the child in her womb, Elizabeth kept her pregnancy a strict secret.

Perhaps the child understood its mother’s heart—there were no noticeable symptoms, making it easier to hide.

So, Elizabeth believed she could give birth in secret, just like this.

She had held onto hope, not knowing that the Countess’s personal maid reported even her menstrual cycle to the Count.

“I was such a fool. I begged the Count to spare the child, but he said nothing.
I thought that if he had any pity for me, he would at least grant that one request.”

She believed that—until the Count delivered the news of her husband’s death in battle.

Even now, just thinking about that day made her heart crumble.
Yet the Count lay there peacefully, as if he had forgotten the devastation he had caused.

Elizabeth looked at him and couldn’t hold back her sobs.

“I was foolish. The Count never intended to spare him from the beginning…”

After hearing of her husband’s death, Elizabeth grew weaker by the day and gave birth earlier than expected.

Worry overshadowed the joy of childbirth.
After the first miracle of meeting her husband, this child was the second miracle to arrive in her hellish life.
And this miracle—she could not let it be taken from her.

She prayed desperately, again and again, that she could at least protect this child.

But the Count didn’t even give her the chance to hold the baby in her arms.

The child that was taken from her became Elizabeth’s weakness—a tool the Count used to make her obey his demands.

“If you eat, if you smile in front of me, if you pretend to be a loving wife—I’ll let you see the child,” he had said.

It was mockery.
She knew it was mockery, but clung to the hope like grasping at straws.
She forced food down her throat, faked smiles, and pretended to be a devoted wife.

But then…

“You killed my child and thought you could live happily ever after?”

During a time when the estate was in turmoil due to an outbreak among the children, the Count mockingly handed her the child wrapped in swaddling clothes.

It was already too late.
The lifeless, cold body of her child—its soul long gone.

And so, Elizabeth decided to take the Count’s life.

She had lost both her husband and her child.
The Count, at the very least, should offer up his own life in return.

Looking at the Count’s face, which seemed peacefully asleep, Elizabeth let out a bitter smile.

“The saying that the best revenge is to live happily feels cruel.
There’s no one left in this world to share happiness with…”

She couldn’t be happy without them—so what reason was there to remain in the world?

Her revenge was complete. There was nothing left to hold her back.

Her eyes caught the black cloth draped around the coffin.
It hung like a harbinger of death, and Elizabeth faintly lifted the corners of her lips.

Now, she could follow her husband and child.

Elizabeth reached out toward the cloth surrounding the coffin.
It felt unnaturally soft at her fingertips.

As she stroked the fabric, she began to tear it with force.

Rip—rip—
The sound of the black cloth being torn echoed loudly.

Was it a reflection of Elizabeth’s heart?
Or a sign that the death she was about to face would be painful?

Whatever it was, nothing could stop her death now.

After tearing down all the black cloth, she wrapped it around the ceiling and let it hang down.
She climbed onto an old chair and pulled the cloth taut, checking its strength.

For a perfect death.

The chair creaked and groaned with an unpleasant sound, as if trying to stop her.
But the noise didn’t reach Elizabeth’s ears. Her focus was solely on death.

Suddenly, dizziness struck. The old chair wobbled beneath her weight.
As she struggled to keep her balance and leaned into the cloth, fear finally gripped her.

But there was no turning back.
The world had already abandoned her—there was no place left for her to stand.
Just like now, when her body was supported only by this small chair.

I can do this. I must do this. Now I can go to them.

With that thought, the act of tying the cloth into a loop no longer felt frightening.

The end was near.
Thinking that, the anxiety that had gnawed at her, the trembling in her eyes, began to settle.

The cloth, which had felt soft just moments ago, now felt rough against her skin.
She hoped it would hold—at least until her breath came to a stop.

As Elizabeth absentmindedly touched the cloth with her fingertips, she recalled one last memory of her husband:

“I’ll make you happy for the rest of your life. As long as we’re together, we can overcome anything.”

Lies.
If that were true, he shouldn’t have left her first.

“No matter what happens, please don’t betray my heart. If you can promise me just that…”

Was it because she betrayed his heart that things ended up this way?

The memory of his warm gaze and bright smile pierced her chest.
It felt as though his scent still lingered around her, and her eyes quickly turned red with tears.

Even if he resented her for betraying him, there was one thing she could say with certainty:

She had never, not even once, forgotten him.

After gripping the cloth with all her strength, Elizabeth tore it down completely.
She wrapped it around the ceiling and let it hang, then climbed onto the worn-out chair and pulled the cloth tight, testing its strength.

But she couldn’t stop the tightening around her neck.
Before she could even scream, her consciousness began to fade.

Her body, heavy like lead, sank downward, and her mind seemed to sink with it.

Death was near.

Bang!
She thought she heard the door slam open violently, and then someone rushed in and cut the cloth strangling her neck in one swift motion.

As she fell backward, that person caught her safely in their arms.

Cough!
Her breath returned, and she began coughing uncontrollably.
At the same time, nausea surged up from deep within.

In that moment, a familiar scent filled her nose.

Even though the sensation of the cloth tightening around her neck was still vivid, the scent that lingered near her nose felt distant, like a dream.

Which one was reality?
Was she once again being denied death?
Or had she already crossed the threshold?

If this was a dream—if she was seeing flashes of her life as death approached—she wished it would slow down, just a little.

Elizabeth, thinking of the one she missed so dearly, reached out to the person who had interrupted her death.
She couldn’t resist—this miracle before her eyes felt like it might vanish in an instant if she didn’t confirm it.

But before her hand could reach him, her attempt was stopped.
The man caught her hand and gave her a silent look.

Was he telling her to speak—to confirm it with words?

Thinking of the person who shouldn’t exist in this place, Elizabeth mouthed his name.

“Burke?”

Had she already reached hell?
Was she in hell, reunited with him?

But she could say with certainty: nothing felt more hellish than the words and actions he showed her now.

“You were going to die for that man? You dare throw me into the flames?”

The one she had wished to see just one more time—
Even if only as a soul after death—

The one she had wished to see again—
The one she had hoped to meet, even if only after death—

“Damn it, no. That can’t happen. It mustn’t. Beth, you need to taste misfortune too.”

The man who once loved her without hesitation
Was now looking down at her with eyes full of resentment.

They had met again.
She had feared her stained hands might prevent her from ever seeing him again…

But even if it was resentment, it didn’t matter.
Just the fact that he had returned made the gaping hole in her heart begin to close.

While Elizabeth rejoiced, Burkhardt’s eyes remained cold—almost cruelly so.

He buried his face in the nape of her neck and muttered through clenched teeth, his voice trembling with fury.

“I’ll make sure you can never run away again. Even if it means unhappiness for all of us.”

“Burke…”

“Don’t even think about escaping. I’ll come back for you.”

With that threatening warning, Burkhardt vanished like a mirage—before Elizabeth could even reach out to stop him.