“Shasha, go and bring Louis down. He might get bitten by the dogs, so make sure you go with a hunter.”

“Yes, milady.”

At my command, Shasha headed upstairs at once. I remained seated on the sofa in the sitting room, carefully reviewing the divorce papers. It wouldn’t do to overlook anything.

Clink.

While my attention was on the documents, a cup of tea, steam curling gently upward, was placed on the table. The hand setting it down was wrapped in bandages, so I immediately knew it was Eric.

I reached for the teacup. It was warm.

“Thank you, as always, Eric.”

I offered a light word of thanks and met his eyes at the same time. Truthfully, I wasn’t accustomed to holding eye contact while speaking with someone. And yet, with Eric and Shasha, it felt oddly comfortable.

Perhaps it was because I thought of them as comrades… or something like that.

“Olivia’s the same as ever, isn’t she?”

Eric opened his mouth at my question, then pressed his lips shut again. As always, he took out his notebook and began writing diligently.

[Thanks to the madam’s devoted care, she’s doing better than before. She still reacts sensitively whenever she sees blades, but it’s not severe.]

It was a tremendous relief to hear that Olivia was showing signs of improvement. I’d been worried she might remain in a vacant, broken state like that.

Not because I cared about Olivia’s well-being.

Pain only has value when it tightens slowly, like a noose drawing closed around the neck. If Olivia were out of her mind, then everything I’d gone to such lengths to do would become meaningless.

I didn’t like that.

If possible, I wanted her to regret what she’d done—with a perfectly sound mind.

“That’s wonderful news.”

I took a slow sip of my tea. An unusually sweet flavor lingered on my tongue.

“Once the divorce is finalized, I’d like to go try that… bronnie? Or whatever it’s called. The one with lots of chocolate that’s soft and chewy instead of hard.”

I smacked my lips, recalling a dessert I’d read about in a novel written by another author.

[Do you mean brownies?]

Eric lifted his notebook, smiling.

“Oh, brownies—that’s it!”

I’d never seen one, never tasted one, so of course I hadn’t known the name. Realizing that even a servant knew something I didn’t made me feel oddly embarrassed.

Probably because, since childhood, I’d never been allowed anything beyond the meals prescribed for me.

Well… that figures.

Before marriage, my mother always urged salads and fruit on me. After marriage, I simply ate whatever Louis felt like giving me. So it wasn’t all that strange.

This time, I should gorge myself on desserts.

“Aaaah! Aaaah!”

Already? The cracking, shredded sound of his voice stabbed painfully into my ears. I turned toward the noise and saw Louis struggling wildly, restrained by the hunter and Shasha. The moment his eyes met mine, he seemed to gauge the situation—then lowered his gaze.

“You look terrible.”

Even though I’d done everything I could to help his wounds heal quickly, Louis looked dreadful. No matter how I looked at it, there was no way he could go out like that. At least for today, he needed to look presentable. Not like his old self—just presentable enough.

So I ordered the servants to clean him up.

“Well, I suppose I should be grateful it’s not completely unbearable to look at.”

Today was the day we would bring the divorce papers before the noble court.
More precisely—the day we would divorce.

The hearing would be attended by a presiding judge chosen by vote, along with thirty jurors. They would determine whether this divorce was justified by examining the documents Louis and I had submitted, along with our testimonies. Which meant Louis would have to state, in his own words, that he wished to divorce me—and confirm that the documents had been prepared of his own free will.

In addition, we needed someone to vouch for the legitimacy of the divorce.

That was the problem. I had no one to put forward as a guarantor. Having lived cut off from the outside world all this time, it wasn’t as though I had any close friends. And who, honestly, would step up for the child of a family that had been branded traitors and purged?

The one saving grace was that Shasha and Eric had said they would bring a trustworthy guarantor. They’d helped me to an almost excessive degree all this time, so I thought it worth putting my faith in them again.

“Louis. Don’t cause any trouble.”

I’d already burned his mouth to make sure he couldn’t spout nonsense. Still—there was always the possibility of something. His hands and feet were intact, after all. If he tried to communicate through gestures, it could become troublesome in more ways than one.

That was why I warned Louis again and again, over and over.

“This time, I might actually kill you.”

I didn’t forget to add a spoonful of threat on top.

Whether Louis would obey was another matter entirely.

[I’ll prepare him for dressing.]

As always, brushing my hair was Eric’s task.

At first, he’d been so clumsy that just watching him had made me impatient. But now his hands moved with practiced ease. I truly liked this time—when he brushed my hair. The way he moved so carefully, so gently, made it feel as though he were treating me as someone precious.

For someone who had always been looked down on, even these small gestures—each and every one of them—felt overwhelmingly significant. Like proof that I, too, was someone worthy of careful attention.

“Eric.”

I parted my lips cautiously, watching his reflection in the mirror. As if he’d been waiting for it, he met my eyes through the glass.

“How far is the Duchy of Balthazar from here?”

Had I caught him off guard? The ever-bright smile he usually wore flickered as his eyes widened for a moment, his hands moving a little faster.

[About two days by carriage.]

That was quite far. Far enough that it was almost surprising he’d come all this way just to help me.

[May I ask why you’re asking?]

I hadn’t said anything particularly special, yet Eric’s eyes sparkled. Even the speed of his writing picked up.

“Just… I thought that since the Grand Duke has helped me so much, I might go and pay my respects in person. At least offer my thanks.”

When I said that, Eric’s expression brightened even further.

[He’ll be very pleased.]

There was something slightly odd about the way it sounded, but watching his cheerful expression made me snort with a quiet laugh.

[Truly.]

***

After finishing our preparations, we boarded the carriage and headed for the courthouse.

Riding in the same carriage as Louis was deeply unpleasant, but there was no helping it. Letting him take a different carriage felt like digging my own grave. Besides, I wouldn’t feel at ease unless I kept him under direct watch.

Because of that, Eric and Shasha were following behind in another carriage.

“…Miaaa…”

All the way to the courthouse, Louis kept trying to speak to me. When I didn’t respond, he would cautiously poke at my arm with his fingers. It almost seemed like he was trying to get my attention—but I ignored him.

Just being trapped in the same space with him made me sick enough. If I actually engaged him in conversation, I felt like I’d develop motion sickness I didn’t even have.

Clatter—clatter.

The carriage I was riding in sped along at a brisk pace. The sound of busy, pounding hooves echoed sharply in my ears. Only after a long while of that did I finally find myself standing before the courthouse.

Perhaps because it had been so long since I’d last ridden in a carriage, the only moment of fluster came when the coachman opened the door for me. Other than that, I was calm. Composed, even.

“What are you standing around for? Get moving.”

While my attention drifted for just a moment, I noticed Louis scanning our surroundings. It didn’t look like it was out of any good intention, so I grabbed his arm and led him straight into the courtroom.

“Welcome, Count Simon.”

The moment we stepped inside, an attendant greeted us in an even, neutral tone. I gave him a slight nod in response.

“Please hand the documents to me.”

I passed over the papers I had been holding close to my chest as though they were a treasure. He carried them to the seat reserved for the presiding judge and set them down.

Not long after that, the thirty jurors began to file in one by one. They exchanged light greetings among themselves, then went to their assigned seats and sat down.

“……”

Soon after, the presiding judge entered the chamber, and the divorce hearing began.

Bang. Bang.

Instead of verbally calling for order, the judge raised a hammer-like object and struck it against a neat wooden block. Perhaps because I’d never once set foot in a courtroom before, I found myself wondering what exactly the thing in his hand was.

The fact that such a trivial detail caught my attention only proved how lightly I was taking this trial.

In contrast, Louis was trembling, cold sweat streaming down his face. After being denied proper sleep and left to live alongside dogs, it seemed his spirit had finally been drained. Maybe now he understood—even a little—how it felt for me, locked away in solitary confinement, forced to do nothing but write.

“Just do as you’re told.”

I spoke softly, so only Louis could hear.

“You can do that, can’t you?”

Then, as though nothing had happened, I composed myself and put on a calm, indifferent face.