“Ghostwriting?”

Ophelia blinked in surprise.

“Yes. I’ve actually been running a ghostwriting shop here for quite a while now. Together with my second daughter.”

Even back when she worked at the barony, Mrs. Bovary had been the only maid among the servants who knew how to read and write.

Because of that, maids from the neighboring Roswell estate who were close to her would often ask her to write letters to their hometowns on their behalf.

When Ophelia still looked startled, Mrs. Bovary continued explaining.

“Of course, only if you’re comfortable with it, Miss. The work itself isn’t difficult, and all the customers are gentle people, so it should be manageable. And while working there, you may build connections with the townspeople and perhaps find even better opportunities later.”

Her words were convincing.

“But… would I really be able to do it? I’ve never done ghostwriting before…”

“Oh my, I still remember every single letter you wrote when you were young. I’m certain it’ll suit you perfectly.”

Mrs. Bovary nodded confidently.

“Th-Then… would it really be alright if I imposed on you for a while, Mrs. Bovary?”

When Ophelia asked with shining eyes, Mrs. Bovary stared at her quietly for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“Honestly, you still look exactly the same as when you were little, Miss. I almost reached out to pat your head just now. Of course you may! Let’s go to the shop together first thing tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much.”

Smiling brightly, Ophelia unconsciously buried herself in the woman’s embrace.

Mrs. Bovary hesitated in surprise for a moment at Ophelia’s sudden affection, but soon smiled and gently patted her back.

Little Miss Ophelia.

Their young lady who had always been so thoughtful even as a child.

It was honestly difficult to believe that she and Young Count Hemian Roswell had separated.

After all, even the maids had known how deeply the young count loved Miss Ophelia.

Which meant Mrs. Bovary could not even begin to imagine the depth of loss Ophelia must be carrying inside her.

‘I just want Miss Ophelia to be happy.’

All she could do was softly pat the small, fragile back trembling in her arms.

***

Bang!

A thunderous crash echoed through the office as though the desk itself might shatter.

Despite the force of it, Hemian did not seem to feel pain in his hand at all. He merely stood there breathing harshly.

“You still haven’t found her?”

“…My apologies.”

His aide, Elliot, bowed his head deeply.

One day had passed.

And then another.

Yet there was still not a single trace of Ophelia.

‘Impossible.’

His wife had disappeared.

That girl who, when overwhelmed, would do nothing more than take brief walks around the neighborhood.

That girl who always returned before even a day had fully passed.

That girl who had never once stepped beyond the Roswell territory in her entire life.

Suddenly, Hemian felt as though he could no longer breathe properly.

Unable to endure the suffocating pressure in his chest, he abruptly rose from his seat and strode out of the office.

Crossing the corridor in long strides, he arrived before Ophelia’s bedroom on the same floor in an instant.

Without the slightest hesitation, Hemian violently shoved the door open.

The empty room greeted him with cold silence.

For some reason, the unfamiliar feeling of it made him stop in place.

It felt as though his wife, who always sat beside the bed wearing that gloomy expression, would raise her head weakly at any moment.

But she was nowhere to be seen.

Looking utterly lost about what he was even supposed to do, Hemian slowly scanned the room before finally approaching the bed.

The bedding was neatly arranged.

When he brushed his palm across the sheets, they felt cold.

As though no one had ever been there.

His mood darkening further, he straightened and strode toward the vanity in irritation.

He yanked open the drawers harshly.

To check whether she had taken anything valuable with her.

But Ophelia had never been given expensive jewels or luxurious accessories in the first place, and just as expected, the drawers were filled only with outdated ornaments long past fashion.

Worthless things that would fetch almost nothing even at a jeweler’s shop.

Then, amidst them—

Something caught the light.

“……!”

It was the wedding ring.

The ring Ophelia had never once removed from her finger.

Hemian stared blankly at it in silence after picking it up.

She left even the ring behind?

This…This was too much.

‘I thought she’d return by evening at most.’

Yet a full day had already passed.

The sun had risen, then fallen once more.

Was she really planning not to come back tonight either?

His thoughts growing tangled, Hemian turned toward Elliot, who stood stiffly near the entrance of the dressing room like a statue.

“Expand the search area and track down where Ophelia disappeared to. Immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Elliot hurriedly withdrew.

After he left, Hemian unconsciously let out a deep sigh.

‘…Ophe. Please stop making things difficult.’

No one knew Ophelia better than he did.

Even the slightest change in her habits or tone of voice allowed Hemian to read her thoughts instantly.

He could sense every tiny shift in her emotions.

That was why he had been so certain.

That this, too, was merely another tantrum that had grown slightly worse than usual.

Had he been wrong?

Now, he truly did not know anymore.

Why Ophelia was acting this way.

Where she had disappeared to.

What she wanted.

‘Do you even know how much I’ve done for you?’

Bitterness surged inside him.

His gaze drifted once more toward the wedding ring Ophelia had left behind.

Slowly, he clenched his fist tightly around it.

Closing his eyes, Hemian rubbed between his brows.

When he first heard she had tried to drown herself in the sea, it had honestly felt as though his entire world was collapsing.

But only for a moment.

Soon after, his mother insisted it had all been an act, and anger replaced the shock.

At the same time, he had pitied Ophelia.

Pitied the fact that the only way she knew how to beg for his affection was through something like that.

Annoyed by her constant demands for a divorce she supposedly did not truly mean, he had acted out in a way unlike himself.

He thought he would simply play along enough to frighten her.

That if he actually handed her the divorce papers, if he made her believe he truly could abandon her, then she would calm down out of fear.

‘…The divorce papers.’

A sudden thought struck him.

Hemian abruptly looked around the room.

‘They’re gone.’

The divorce documents he had tossed at her carelessly were nowhere to be found.

Not on the bed.

Not tangled in the blankets.

Not on the floor.

Not in the drawers.

The few sheets of paper had vanished without a trace.

After frantically tearing through Ophelia’s room for some time, Hemian suddenly froze.

A terrible feeling crawled slowly down the back of his neck.

‘No… there’s no way.’

His heartbeat quickened.

For the first time in his life, an unfamiliar anxiety began swallowing him whole.

What if she really chose to leave me, even if it meant abandoning everything?

The divorce papers he had handed her were fully processed on the husband’s side already.

He had intended only to scare her.

He thought that once she saw papers already bearing his signature, she would panic at the idea of being thrown out penniless.

But if he had been wrong…

‘No.’

Hemian inhaled sharply.

Without hesitation, he grabbed his coat and stormed out the door.

“Butler!”

The butler could not hide his confusion at the sight of his master rushing out in such a state.

“My lord, has something serious happened—?”

Barely suppressing the panic threatening to consume him, Hemian gave his orders.

“I’m going to the courthouse immediately. Contact the lawyer and prepare the carriage.”

“…Pardon?”

He needed to confirm whether Ophelia had actually filed the divorce papers.

Only now did Hemian realize he had never once considered the possibility that Ophelia might truly leave him first.

She had always been there, like furniture or part of the house itself.

He was her childhood.

Her memories.

Her entire world.

A wife like that could not simply disappear.

She could not.

“My lord, before that, Miss Blanche is currently waiting for you…”

At the butler’s words, Hemian halted mid-step.

Laura Blanche.

Suddenly, his thoughts turned cold.

To the point that he even felt anger rising at the thought that Ophelia’s disappearance was somehow all Laura’s fault.

Turning toward the butler with a frigid expression, Hemian spoke curtly.

“Smooth things over and send her away. Going to the courthouse is more important right now.”

“Understood.”

The butler hurriedly sent word to Bard Krark, the Roswell family’s lawyer, and prepared the carriage.

Without even taking a moment to steady his breathing, Hemian climbed inside.