“Assigning you a personal maid follows the same reasoning.”

Cedric studied her quietly for a moment before continuing.

“While you remain in this house, it would be best to minimize unnecessary contact with outsiders.”

At some point, Ophelia seemed to have become persuaded by his explanation, slowly nodding in understanding.

“Do you have anything else you wish to ask?”

“When do my official duties begin?”

“…You may come whenever I call for you.”

Cedric answered immediately.

“If you have no further questions, would you return to your room now? I’m quite busy.”

“…Yes. My apologies.”

After giving a proper bow according to etiquette, Ophelia left the office looking slightly embarrassed.

The moment the door closed with a soft click, Cedric finally burst into laughter.

The butler standing beside him the entire time stared at him in confusion.

Though the rumors in high society claiming the duke was an emotionless cold-blooded man were exaggerated, it was true that Cedric was normally reserved and expressionless.

Seeing him laugh out loud like this was genuinely rare.

“Did something pleasant happen, Your Grace?”

At the question, Cedric immediately suppressed his laughter and gave a light cough.

Then he lowered his eyes back to the documents before him.

“No.”

“Then…”

“I simply feel as though something pleasant will happen soon.”

For a moment, he stopped moving his pen and fell into thought.

The art gallery project had never originally been started merely for financial profit.

A girl who loved paintings.

A girl who carried beautiful dreams within her.

It had all begun because he remembered the girl who had once saved him.

‘Of course, she has no idea.’

Ordinary nobles would have thrown endless parties and banquets whenever they launched a major project, flaunting it proudly before society.

But Cedric had never intended to do anything like that.

The old him—

Even after opening the gallery in the heart of Edent, he likely would have continued avoiding public appearances exactly as always.

But things were different now.

Ophelia had returned to his world once more.

And this time, Cedric had no intention of letting her go.

More than that, he understood something clearly now—

If he wanted to keep Ophelia by his side, then he too would need to step into the world she stood in.

‘A grand banquet will be necessary.’

For the very first time, he planned to personally appear before everyone.

***

Hemian stared blankly out the train window as the scenery rushed past.

His thoughts, which had been consumed entirely by his missing wife, slowly drifted back toward the first time he had met her.

Their first meeting had been strangely unexpected.

After finishing lessons with his tutor, Hemian had gone for a walk through the garden—

Only to find a small girl with dark brown hair quietly sitting alone on a bench.

He had never seen her before.

At first, he genuinely thought she was a doll.

Perhaps because she barely moved.

Or perhaps because of her large eyes and pretty face.

Hemian walked over to her.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“I’m waiting for a cat.”

“What?”

Instead of answering who she was, the girl gave such an absurd reply that Hemian stared at her in disbelief.

Clutched tightly in her hands was a biscuit from somewhere unknown.

It was strange.

No one in the count’s household even owned a cat.

He wanted to tell her that, but the determination written across the little girl’s face stopped him somehow.

“I asked who you are.”

“Ah, I’m Ophelia! Ophelia Dauer.”

Dauer? If he remembered correctly, the Dauers were the guests visiting his father today.

He had heard they had one daughter.

So it was this girl.

Feeling unexpectedly happy to see someone his own age, Hemian sat down beside her.

“My name is Hemian. Can I wait for the cat with you too?”

“Of course!”

But the cat never appeared in the end.

The sky had already begun turning golden with sunset.

Thankfully, he had no afternoon lessons scheduled.

“It’s too late now. We should go back inside.”

Hemian stood up first, but Ophelia stubbornly remained seated on the bench.

Her small hands tightly clutched the edge of her skirt.

“I want to wait a little longer.”

“It’s already dinner time. Baron Dauer is probably waiting for you.”

“…But the cat must be hungry.”

Hemian fell silent for a moment.

The wind blew gently, scattering strands of the girl’s hair.

Her small cheeks had turned red from the cold.

Without a word, he removed the scarf wrapped around his own neck and draped it carefully over her shoulders.

“You go inside first. I live here, so I’ll feed the cat for you. How about that?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Promise.”

“A promise! It’s a cheese-colored cat! It has white fur above its eyebrows. Thank you!”

The moment he saw the girl’s bright smile, Hemian suddenly felt as though his chest had tightened painfully.

It was an emotion he had never experienced before at such a young age.

After carefully linking pinkies with him, Ophelia hopped off the bench and trotted happily back toward the building.

Left alone on the bench, the young boy stared blankly after her retreating figure.

“…I hope I get to see her again.”

That night, Hemian got scolded.

Because he had stayed outside too long in the cold weather and caught a fever.

But even while suffering from the high fever, his mind remained filled with only one thing.

Just as Ophelia had said, a tiny cat really had appeared late that evening.

A cheese-colored cat with white fur above its eyebrows.

And because of that, he had been able to feed the little creature exactly as he promised her.

The thought that, when he saw that girl again, he absolutely had to tell her he kept his promise and fed the cat safely.

When will I see her again?

That thought alone stayed with him throughout the entire night as he endured his fever.

‘What meaning does that memory even have now?’

Asking himself that question, Hemian turned his gaze back toward the window.

He truly had treasured Ophelia.

There had never once been a moment when he did not.

Of course he had.

He had liked her from the very first moment he saw her.

Enough that he could still recall even such trivial memories.

‘Then why did things turn out this way?’

Closing and reopening his eyes slowly, Hemian questioned himself silently.

Yet the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that the problem had not been him.

After they married, Ophelia became frequently depressed.

She spoke less.

And she barely smiled anymore.

She had changed.

And remaining beside a wife who constantly looked exhausted and cried over every small hurt had become far more tiring than he expected.

So he kept himself busy.

He spent more time outside.

‘I did enough for her.’

His mother had pressured him constantly to divorce Ophelia as quickly as possible, yet hadn’t he stubbornly remained her support regardless?

Hemian repeated those thoughts to himself.

Ophelia had changed first.

He was merely the one who endured and tolerated it.

Which meant this situation was no different.

The fact that she took the divorce papers to court—

The fact that she truly went through with the divorce—

It was all simply the result of her acting emotionally.

He, meanwhile, was still generous.

Still willing to wait.

Still capable of forgiving her.

He had not changed at all.

Thinking that way eased his heart somewhat.

“…Sir?”

“……”

“My lord.”

“What is it?”

“We’ll be arriving shortly.”

“Edent Station! Passengers disembarking, please prepare to exit!”

No sooner had Elliot finished speaking than the conductor’s voice echoed through the train.

Dragged out of his thoughts, Hemian looked out the window.

Gas lamps glowed one after another along the darkened streets.

“We’ve arrived already.”

He murmured blankly as he stared outside.

What exactly was Ophelia doing here?

How was she living in the home of Mrs. Bovary, a commoner woman who had once been nothing more than a maid?

Did she truly believe this kind of life was better than living as a countess?

And why, after remaining here for several days already, had she still not returned?

Could it be…

Was she actually satisfied with her life here?

When he first departed from the Roswell estate, he had been full of confidence.

But now that he had actually arrived in this city, an inexplicable heaviness pressed against his chest.

For some reason, he no longer felt certain.

He did not even need to see the life of commoners to imagine it clearly.

Rag-like clothing.

The burden of preparing every meal by hand.

If it were him, he doubted he could endure such a life for even a single day—

No, not even a few hours.

A week was more than enough time to suffer through all those discomforts.

And yet Ophelia still had not returned.

The suffocating thoughts continued tormenting him relentlessly.

By now, it felt enough to give him a headache.

The train, which had gradually slowed its speed, finally came to a complete stop.