Clack. Then, clack.

Each time Iris walked, the sound of her shoes echoed through the hallway, irregular. The uneven sound never pleased her, but for someone lame like her, it couldn’t be helped.

Iris’s fingertips habitually brushed the hallway windowsill.

‘Dirty again today….’

As expected, dust came off on her pale white skin again this time.

A sigh slipped out between her teeth of its own accord. Iris dusted off her hands and spoke to the maid wiping porcelain right beside her.

“Miss Rowen. I believe I’ve already asked you five times to pay a little more attention when cleaning this window.”

“Yes, I’ll pay more attention next time.”

“…I’m hearing that same answer for the fifth time now.”

The servants of this mansion all answered with the same lack of sincerity. Ah, of course, this attitude was reserved for Iris alone.

If Michael, the master of the mansion, gave the same order, there wouldn’t be a single speck of dust on this window. Iris let out another sigh and limped past Rowen.

‘They said it was the rainy season, so I thought it would rain all week, but apparently not.’

Taking in the deep blue sky, Iris wore a soft smile.

The weather was lovely for the first time in a while. She would have to return to her office soon to work, but wanting to catch even a little sunlight, she headed for the garden.

Count Hagbris’s residence was beautiful in appearance to begin with, but the garden was the finest part. Every visitor who came here praised the well-kept garden until their mouths went dry.

It was only a week since she came to Count Hagbris’s residence. Iris was yet to see all of this vast mansion, but she believed that even if she saw every corner of it, no place would be lovelier than this garden.

The sunlight was warm, and the blossoms swaying in the breeze were beautiful.

Were it not for the stack of documents abruptly hurled out of the office window before long, Iris would probably have strolled through the garden for quite a while.

The white papers Michael hurled flapped and fluttered in the air. Iris stared with weary eyes at the shadows of paper blocking the sky.

‘That man, starting again….’

Since coming to this mansion, her sighs never ran dry. She might even be sighing more often than she did in prison.

Through the window of Iris’s office, Michael was visible, his face full of displeasure. Iris glared back at him briefly, then began picking up the countless documents scattered across the garden one by one.

Rain or wind, when this time came, that man always threw documents out the window. They were all documents Iris processed, so it was nothing short of screwing with her.

But people are creatures of adaptation, as they say. After enduring that for a whole week, even papers fluttering in the air no longer surprised her.

Right. Even if another stack fell, it wouldn’t be surprising.

Having flung yet another stack, Michael wore the face of someone who could finally breathe. He even seemed to be gloating that Iris now had to pick up twice as many sheets as a moment ago.

Iris stopped picking up papers and shouted at him with all her might.

“No matter how many you throw, I will never divorce you, Lord Michael!”

Ah, maybe she shouldn’t have shouted. The moment Iris saw the third stack of documents cutting through the air, she immediately regretted her impulsive act.

Bang. The sound of a window frame slamming rang sharply overhead. Iris sighed again and picked up, one after another, the documents covering the garden.

He threw three whole stacks. After picking them all up, putting them back in the original order would probably keep her up all night tonight.

Many attendants passed through the garden, but none of them helped Iris. In this mansion where Michael reigned, no one would help her.

When Iris finally finished gathering the documents and returned to her office, a familiar sheet of paper sat plainly on the desk.

Divorce papers.

It was a document formally applying to the imperial family for her and Michael’s divorce.

‘I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen that paper.’

Since coming to this mansion, she felt she saw that paper as often as she sighed. Iris set the documents roughly on the desk and picked up the divorce papers.

When she lifted them, a small note stuck beneath them fluttered to the floor. On the note, a single sentence was written in Michael’s elegant handwriting.

Iris Oppenheimer, I feel nauseous every time I see your face.

Iris stared blankly at the letters, pressed down carefully with such effort, then took the divorce papers and left her office. Without a moment’s hesitation, she headed to the floor right above, Michael’s office.

There was no knocking. Iris flung the door open and approached Michael, whose face twisted the instant he saw her.

Then she thr*st the divorce papers before his eyes for him to see clearly.

“If looking at my face makes you want to retch—”

In Iris’s grip, the divorce papers tore cleanly in two.

“Then just do it.”

Michael’s beautiful face twisted until no more anger could possibly fill it. When Iris fiercely crumpled the two torn pieces and threw them onto the desk, Michael immediately opened a drawer.

Pulling a new set of divorce papers from the drawer, he shouted.

“Fine, tear them to your heart’s content. I have more than enough divorce papers to give you from now on!”

“You still don’t understand? Every time you give me divorce papers, my lord, I’ll tear them up and burn them without a trace. Don’t waste paper on pointless acts.”

“Sorry, but I will. I can’t live under the same roof as a damned degenerate.”

Michael strode over and shoved Iris’s small chest. When his hand withdrew, new divorce papers were in her arms.

Thrusting a finger before Iris’s eyes, Michael growled low.

“If you’ve got no other business, vanish from my sight. I’m barely holding back from throwing your body out this window like those stacks of documents earlier.”

That single remark wiped every trace of expression from Iris’s face, along with the faint smile she wore. Her calm eyes sharpened in an instant.

But Michael didn’t so much as flinch. Like he was waiting for this, he simply hurled a cold sneer at Iris’s glinting eyes.

“You always do that, just glare and say nothing. Well, when I’m calling a degenerate a degenerate, what is there to rebut?”

“Then call me that to your heart’s content. Even if you call me a degenerate a hundred times, a thousand times, I will never grant you a divorce, my lord.”

Another set of divorce papers tore in half.

Glaring back at Michael without yielding, Iris left the office only after reducing even the new divorce papers to a mess before his eyes.

Behind her came a small but blatant sound of retching. It was clearly a sound Michael made on purpose.

When Iris left the office, the servants listening near the door hurriedly pretended to hear nothing. The servants of this mansion were very interested in Michael and Iris’s conversations. No, to be precise, they were interested in when the two would divorce.

Without even glancing at them, Iris limped to her office.

On the way back, she brushed the windowsill with her fingertip once more. Even though she scolded the maid, it was still covered in dust.

Iris stared at her dust-covered fingertips for a long while where she stood, until someone called her.

“Madam.”

“Ah…. Mr. Oswald. What is it?”

“These are the documents the count just asked me to deliver to you, madam.”

Documents…. Iris murmured softly at the mountain of papers filling the arms of the butler, Eric Oswald.

Michael tormented Iris in every possible way, passing her countless tasks, more with each passing day. Thanks to this, while Michael slept soundly, Iris was forced to work through the night until her eyes turned bloodshot.