“Put the gun down, Ariana Clifford.”

The man’s voice was firm as he rebuked her inside the cold, lifeless bedroom.

But despite her husband’s command, the woman with ash-blonde hair didn’t so much as flinch.
Bathed in the moonlight streaming through the arched window behind her, Ariana Clifford’s face was pale and clear like polished glass.

Yet the blue eyes that stared at her husband were hollow—emptied by the despair that had already swept through her.

“…Kenneth.”

Her husband, Duke Kenneth Clifford, was the most powerful figure in the entire Cremisa Empire, holding the imperial treasury firmly in his grasp like a tightened rein.

A man who stood above all others never allowed a single crack to show. His deep blue hair was always neatly swept back, and the perfectly tailored suit fit his large, imposing frame without a hint of disorder.

But now, his hair was damp and disheveled, and instead of his usual formal attire, he wore nothing but a white shirt left partially unbuttoned and simple black slacks.
Would those who only ever saw Kenneth as a businessman even be able to imagine him like this?

‘Perhaps only the women who wish to sleep with him could.’

As for herself, who had been dragged to his side three years ago, there had never been even the faintest flutter of excitement.
No matter how perfectly sculpted his body might have been, how could she admire it?

After all, that flawless body now bore bullet wounds, as though the gods had scorched him with cruel mischief.
And it wasn’t just the gunshots. Countless stab wounds from daggers marked his torso as well.

Every time she saw those scars, a suffocating guilt tightened around her like a noose.

Kenneth, too, knew exactly what went through her mind whenever she looked at them.
With his signature cold sneer, he raised an eyebrow.

“Finally thinking of killing me, are you? How impressive, Ariana.”

“……”

“It’s rather bold of you to even consider shooting me.”

As the empire’s foremost diplomat, assassination attempts were nothing new to him, happening every few days.
He had miraculously survived a gunshot at the age of twenty-one—there was little left that could truly frighten him now.
No matter how Ariana pointed a gun at him, he would never cower.

He took a leisurely step forward, exuding a suffocating pressure that made every hair on her body stand on end, from the crown of her head to her tailbone.

“If you want, go ahead and shoot.”

“……”

“But have you thought about who would save you afterward?”

“…There’s no one, obviously.”

Ariana smiled faintly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Her family had long ago betrayed the Clifford family, with whom they had once shared close ties.
She herself had even married one of Kenneth’s political enemies.
Though that marriage had ended within half a day, the disgrace remained forever.

In the end, Kenneth, victorious in the political struggle, had taken Ariana as his wife — a trophy to his triumph, and a generous gesture from the magnanimous Duke Clifford.

“The Duchess shall not interfere in family affairs.”

Even if he were to sever Ariana’s hands and feet, even if he never treated her as a proper wife, she had no choice but to endure it all.
All she could do was stand by Duke Clifford’s side, offering him a practiced, gentle smile.

Naturally, the gaze of society was merciless.
Had he shown her even a hint of tenderness behind closed doors, she might have endured it more willingly—but from their very first night, he had made his stance perfectly clear.

“There will be no children between us.”

There were nights void of affection, where even the pain could not be expressed.

“I have no intention of seeing my heir born from you.”

And the next morning, when she woke up abandoned and alone, the misery was unbearable.

Could this even be called a marriage?
Perhaps it would be more fitting to call it a warden and prisoner sharing the same space.

Still, Ariana was grateful simply to be alive. She endured it all.

And so, she might have lived her entire life like a criminal…
Had the child never been conceived.

“But Kenneth, there was no need for you to be so cold to our child.”

Even if their time together had been devoid of love, it had still borne fruit.
The child she barely managed to conceive was a daughter.
Despite her own miserable circumstances, Ariana wanted to love her daughter with all her heart.

“You will be my only family.”

But soon after seeing the light of this world, the child was laid into the cold earth.
And Kenneth…

“I never expected you to cry. But still… couldn’t you have mourned with me, at least a little?”

On the day of the funeral, he simply stood there, staring indifferently at the grave before turning away.
Wasn’t their daughter, buried without even a headstone, pitiful to him at all?

At her question, Kenneth crossed his arms.
The moment she saw that cold, indifferent expression, Ariana already knew what answer was coming.

“…Why should I?”

“Kenneth—”

“That child was a mistake.”

He spoke the word mistake with cruel clarity, as if driving a nail into her heart.
Only then did his cold expression begin to twist slightly, his lips curling in a bitter sneer.

“And how touching, Ariana. The way you speak, one would almost believe you actually loved that child.”

“……”

“A hypocrite like you… as if you could ever—”

“So that’s how you see me.”

Ariana smiled faintly and slowly raised the gun.
But the barrel wasn’t pointed at him—it was aimed at her own temple.

At that moment, a gust of wind drew the deep purple clouds across the sky, covering the moonlight. His expression disappeared into the darkness.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

“Ariana.”

“Kenneth.”

“Stop this nonsense. Put it down.”

“Our baby’s name was Beatrice. It means blessing.”

If she hadn’t loved her daughter, there would’ve been no reason to name her so.
If she hadn’t still loved Kenneth, her own executioner, it would never have been a blessing.

“The truth is… on the day you nearly died… I was planning to tell you that I liked you.”

Click.
The sound of the safety being released rang clear in the silence.

Ariana smiled, a smile full of resignation.

“That’s the truth.”

To confess her feelings only on the brink of death—
It was pitiful, but strangely freeing, as if a heavy stone had finally been lifted from her chest.

Only then did the moonlight return, dimly illuminating the room through the window.

What kind of expression was Kenneth wearing now?

“Ari—”

Bang!

But the barrel was far too close to Ariana’s head to clearly capture her final expression.

Ariana Clifford, Duchess of Clifford, died at the age of twenty-three.
It was a perfect suicide—utterly irreversible—committed right before her husband’s eyes.

***

They say that in the moments before death, one’s life flashes before their eyes.
So it was for Ariana, daughter of the Viscount of Aberdeen, who saw her entire life unfold as she drew her final breath.

But in her short life, there were far more moments filled with anxiety than with beauty.

Much of that stemmed from her mother, Josephina Aberdeen.
After her poor viscount husband died early, her mother devoted all her affection to her eldest son, Quentin.

Quentin, three years older, was the hope of the impoverished Aberdeen family, expected to one day restore its former glory. Naturally, everything good was given to him first—including Ariana’s favorite desserts.

The trifle—a layered sponge cake soaked in honey, filled with strawberries and various fruits—only ever appeared when Quentin returned home during his academy breaks.
As if to make sure Ariana understood early on that even love was to be distributed unequally.

“That’s for your brother, Ariana!”

Whenever she reached out toward the cake, entranced by its sweetness, Josephina would sharply slap the back of her hand.

‘I want some too.’

Swallowing hard, Ariana said nothing.

Quentin looked apologetic, but he never shared.
He wasn’t cruel by nature, but neither did he feel the need to yield what was given to him.

“Sorry, Ariana. But being a good sister means letting your brother have it.”

“…Okay.”

“When I succeed, I’ll make sure you can eat as much as you want.”

“….”

Ariana simply nodded in silence.

‘Once our family’s situation improves, Mother will care for me too, won’t she?’

Even if she was always pushed aside, Ariana still looked forward to Quentin’s return during school breaks.
Because when he was home, her mother’s beatings lessened.

Then, when Ariana turned ten, one of her brother’s friends visited for the first time.

Kenneth Clifford.

Was there anyone in the entire Cremisa Empire who didn’t know that name?

“The Imperial family may bear the name Claude, but the empire’s purse strings belong to Clifford!”

The name of Duke Clifford’s house was so frequently discussed that it practically became a proverb.

‘Is Clifford really that great?’
On the day the young noble visited, Ariana’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.
Her brother, visibly proud to have such a high-ranking friend, eagerly introduced her.

“Kenneth, this is my sister! Ariana, it’s the friend I told you about. You remember, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

Following her lessons, Ariana offered a polite, graceful greeting—yet she deliberately opened her eyes wide, wanting to examine him closely.

But she soon realized what a grave mistake that was.

The young master of Clifford was more beautiful than even the angel statues decorating the mansion.