The Duchess of Clifford had gone mad.

As soon as the cleaning maid returned from the duchess’s chambers, the waiting maids pounced on her, bombarding her with questions.

“How is she?”

“She seems properly insane.”

“Pfft. As if anyone’s going to feel sorry for her.”

Not a single servant on the estate truly respected her as a duchess.

The One-Day Crown Princess.

A frivolous degenerate.

The daughter of traitors.

She had borne every title imaginable, each one passed around like a sweet snack for all to savour.

What were her redeeming qualities? Her beauty and her surprisingly mild demeanour.

“I can’t believe His Grace has to carry around that dead weight.”

“Poor man.”

The maids shook their heads one by one, their pity veiled thinly in scorn.

Ariana, sitting quietly in her room, heard every word seeping in through the gap under the door.

Only a few days had passed since she’d been dragged back from the spot where her baby’s grave had once been.

The shock had finally begun to wear off and the haze was lifting.

Allowing her to see her situation clearly.

She was twenty-one again.

She had just completed her first year of marriage to Kenneth.

This was the uneasy ceasefire between the Clifford family and the Imperial Household: a brief lull following one of the most turbulent periods in recent political history.

It was also a time when she was still desperately begging Kenneth to treat her as he once had.

“Please… just listen to me, Kenneth.”

She believed that if they could reconcile, he might listen to her.

She was prepared to take on her family’s sins if it meant he would allow her to get close to him.

But every time she tried, he responded with cold indifference.

“Do you actually believe you’re worth my time?”

They had known each other for thirteen years, from when she was ten until she was twenty-three.

The only time he had ever truly listened to her was the night she held a gun to her head and said she would die.

Their marriage had been catastrophic from the outset.

And now she was expected to relive all of that again?

“I can’t.”

No matter how deeply she had loved him, this was impossible.

He had even called their child a mistake.

“Would it have been so wrong to grieve together?”

“…And why should I?”

He would never love Ariana’s child.

Not a daughter and not a son, regardless of their gender.

“Bibi.”

Her trembling gaze flickered with a fragile light.

If she had allowed events to unfold differently, would her daughter have been born again?

And if not that child, then another?

Would birth still be a blessing in this world?

‘But how could I ever forget you?’

Even though Kenneth never acknowledged her.

To Ariana, her daughter was a miracle.

No one celebrated her pregnancy.

Not a single person had shown her warmth or care.

She stifled her nausea in silence, vomiting in secret until her stomach burned.

And yet, she was happy. Because at least the baby would need her.

In a world where no one else did.

As this thought sank deeper into her consciousness, footsteps echoed beyond the door.

‘A maid again?’

It was probably someone sent to check her condition.

But when the door swung open without permission, flooding the room with light—

— it wasn’t a servant.

“You’ve made quite the spectacle of your little protest.”

“…”

Ariana inhaled sharply.

Kenneth Clifford stood in the doorway with his arms crossed.

His black hair was slicked back, not a strand out of place.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, and he wore a perfectly tailored black suit.

He looked invincible and untouchable.

A man no one would dare to lay a hand on.

Ariana bit her lip at the sight of his eyes.

Once upon a time, even when Kenneth wore that teasing smile, his turquoise eyes had always sparkled.

But now…

Now, he looked like Death itself: cold, hollow and merciless.

And why wouldn’t he?

Countless people had been executed following rushed trials before their wedding day.

Kenneth had once smiled kindly at her.

But lurking behind every smile was a thorn that cut deeper the closer she got.

“I heard the whole house has been in an uproar for days. What now? Planning to harm yourself?”

“It’s not—”

“If you’re going to do it, do it properly.”

“…”

“If you mess it up, it’ll just be pitiful for whoever finds you.”

Clearly, news of her digging up the garden while he was away had reached him.

Yet, strangely, his cold mockery had a calming effect on Ariana.

Maybe she could finally let him go.

That impossible, guilt-ridden love had become suffocating.

It was hard enough to bear one emotion, let alone two—

Love and remorse together were pure hell.

But after she had died once, everything felt lighter.

She no longer flinched at his ridicule. His scorn no longer hurt her.

“It wasn’t like that, Your Grace.”

Ariana whispered, her fingers curling into a soft fist. She only used that formal address during public appearances. At home, she had always called him Kenneth.

As if, by persistently saying it, he might one day look at her the way he used to.

A little gentler. A little warmer.

But now, she no longer wanted to do that.

‘Because I’ve finally learned how useless it is.’

She no longer had the courage to beg him for forgiveness.

Now, all she wanted was to feel a little less pain.

“It was a mistake. I didn’t mean to cause such a commotion.”

Like any proper title, this formal way of speaking had become her shield.

It helped preserve distance.

Kenneth’s brow twitched. He clearly felt the shift in tone.

“What game are you playing now?”

“I’m not playing anything. I just thought I should conduct myself with proper decorum from now on.”

Come to think of it, at that time she was still clinging to him.

This sudden change might strike him as odd.

But it didn’t matter. The damage was already done.

Kenneth stared at her for a long moment, then gave a cold, crooked smile.

“If you really cared about decorum, you wouldn’t have gone around acting insane.”

“……”

“I was starting to think you forgot why I even spared your life.”

“I didn’t forget.”

The servants in the manor—and anyone else unaware of the truth behind this marriage—often whispered with curiosity.

“Why would the Duke marry such a tarnished woman?”

“It must be for her body.”

“Taking the Crown Prince’s woman? What man wouldn’t enjoy that?”

But the truth was far more calculated. A cold, pragmatic decision wrapped in the guise of tolerance.

“It puts the other noble families at ease. It’s good for your business, too.”

Kenneth, the young duke who had returned from the brink of death to win overwhelming public support. His return sent shivers down the spines of those who had stood by while the Clifford family was brought down.

As the Aberdeen family and their allies were toppled one by one, fear reached its peak.

Even those not directly involved in the assassination were worried — would passive silence be considered a crime?

Would they be executed as well?

But Kenneth…

He was clever enough to know exactly where to draw the line when it came to revenge.

“I only wish for the guilty to be punished.”

Had he not already proven this by sparing the worst of them — Ariana Aberdeen herself?

Even when the imperial family, in a final act of desperation, tried to disown her—
she remained undeniably theirs.

“Ariana Aberdeen is yours now. Do with her as you will.”

Kenneth accepted her as if he were a merciful man.

Relieved, the terrified noble houses finally let their guard down and rushed to restore business ties with House Clifford.

As for whether Ariana herself wanted to be handed over like an unwanted bride…

Well, most would say she should be grateful and keep quiet.

Kenneth’s eyes glinted with a dull smile as he looked down at her.

“Good. So you remember. Then let’s not have a repeat of that pathetic display.”

“…”

“Just remember: mercy is only granted once.”

He nodded slightly towards the window.

Outside, in full view, several more of the traitors he had hunted down were being hoisted onto a massive wooden execution platform.

Threatening death like it was nothing—
Kenneth was terrifying. It was as if he had traded his humanity for the chance to return from the dead.

“But, Your Grace.”

She had resolved not to beg this man for forgiveness anymore.

Not for affection. Not for a chance to mend what was broken.

And yet there was one last thing she had to ask him. One truth she needed to confirm.

“You once said you’d never have an heir with me. But as far as I know, there aren’t any suitable children in the collateral line either.”

“…”

“So what are your plans? How long do you intend to keep me like this?”

For nobles, marriage existed for one main reason: to produce an heir.

And yet Kenneth had made it clear that any child she bore would not be considered a true successor.

There had been a time when she was too afraid to ask him why.

But not anymore. Now, she had to know.

“So, you’ve finally found the courage to ask.”

Kenneth gave a crooked smile and tilted her chin up with his fingers.

“When I’m done using you. When everything I own is where it rightfully belongs…”

“……”

“Then I’ll make room for a proper woman in your place. So don’t trouble yourself about heirs, Ariana.”

“But if, somehow, even then, a child—”

“Anything conceived with you. Would never be acknowledged as mine.”