For a long while, we sat in silence in that wide hospital room, saying nothing.

Before long, the stillness was broken by the faint clatter of dishes. It seemed my husband was going through the meal left untouched beside my bed.

I hadn’t eaten anything all day. In the morning, it was because of the nausea. Now, it was because of this situation.

The retching that had tormented me at all hours had, astonishingly, vanished along with the child. The fact that there had been a baby inside me just this morning already felt like something from a distant past life.

“…At least have some porridge.”

As if I could swallow anything right now. I pretended not to hear him.

Though it seemed he was holding back his anger, my husband remained eerily calm. The way he acted as if he cared, while surely despising me inside, was repulsive.

No. The most repulsive one here wasn’t him—it was me.

“Do I have to force your mouth open to make you eat?”

He wasn’t worried about me. He just needed me to recover quickly so I could carry the next child.

That’s why he could ignore my feelings and press me like this.

“Get up.”

My husband forcibly pulled me upright. Resistance was meaningless.

He unfolded the tray over the bed and set the meal on top.

“Eat.”

The commander of the military, tending to me like this…

Strangely, it was even harder to picture than the times I had served him.

He scooped up a spoonful of porridge and brought it to my lips.

I shook my head and stubbornly refused.

He didn’t lower the spoon, confronting me with quiet persistence for a long time.

“…Fine. Do whatever you want. Starve to death for all I care.”

Instead of forcing me, he abruptly threw the spoon aside and stormed out of the room.

Even without him saying he wished I would die, I was already dying.

I stared at the porridge he had left behind.

Cruelly enough, hunger suddenly struck.

The fact that I wanted to eat now—only now—made it clear the child was truly gone.

Pitying the tiny being that must have gone ahead to God, I broke down into tears again.

Perhaps because it had been so early in the pregnancy, there was little the hospital could do. And since my body appeared normal by all measures, I was discharged that very night.

The doctor prescribed several medications, then said in a flat tone that I should return in ten days for a follow-up examination. Only after confirming there were no issues would they determine when I could attempt to conceive again.

Attempt to conceive.

The words sent a chill down my spine.

Without a word, my husband wrapped an arm around my shoulders and helped me to my feet.

We had done far more intimate things at night, yet this simple contact—something that once meant nothing—now felt uncomfortable, burdensome.

Like a guilty rat that had committed some grave sin, I hurried out of the room, afraid someone might see me.

We returned to the estate in a carriage filled with nothing but heavy silence.

“My lady… are you feeling alright…?”

Laura, who had been confined to her quarters for several days starting tomorrow for failing to properly look after me, threw herself into my arms, sobbing.

She must have been deeply shaken too…

Guilt weighed on me, knowing she had been punished unfairly just for serving the wrong person.

“Please don’t be too harsh on Laura. This isn’t her fault—it’s mine.”

No matter what Laura had done, what happened to me could not have been prevented.

I said it while looking at my husband, but he gave no response. I couldn’t tell whether he was listening or not.

Ah—Ludwig.

The name I had momentarily forgotten suddenly flashed through my mind the instant I stepped into the room.

Rather than telling my husband, I decided it would be better to speak to Jeremy about Ludwig.

Even if, as a foreigner, he couldn’t intervene deeply in domestic affairs, I was certain that unlike my husband, Jeremy would believe me without needing endless explanations—and that he would take action before Ludwig could commit something terrible again.

“I need to step out for a moment tomorrow.”

“No.”

Without even asking why, my husband cut me off sharply.

If I said I wanted to meet Jeremy, it would only cause more trouble, so I chose to step back for now, pretending to agree.

“You are to stay inside the house for the time being.”

He said that because of what I had done, public resentment toward me had risen again, and that going outside would be dangerous.

He called it for my safety—but in truth, it was confinement.

Soldiers stood guard heavily outside my door, and instead of Laura, another maid remained constantly at my side.

In other words, I was trapped in nothing more than a well-decorated prison.

“This is confinement. You do realize that, don’t you?”

I spoke through clenched teeth, but my husband ignored me completely, his expression cold.

No newspapers.
No telegrams or letters.
No leaving the estate.

The only things I was allowed to do were read books he permitted or take walks within the grounds.

Even speaking about my miscarriage had become forbidden in this house.

Everything prepared for the pregnancy had been cleared away without a trace—as if it had never existed.

Only unrelated luxuries remained, filling the now hollow room.

A restless urgency began to take hold of me.

I needed to tell Jeremy—quickly. Before Ludwig, who had clearly lost his sanity, did something dreadful again.

I tried once more to ask my husband if I could step outside, even briefly, but all I received in return was a cold, indifferent refusal.

I attempted to send a letter to Jeremy, but that too was mercilessly blocked by my husband.

The only day I would be allowed to leave the estate was ten days later, the day of my hospital visit.

Dr. Eleanor, the physician attached to the Helares estate, was not an obstetric specialist, so I had to return to a major hospital in the capital for proper examination.

My husband wanted a definitive assessment of my condition from a specialist.

These days, he was busy.

I rarely saw him. He said he was occupied dealing with the aftermath of what had happened to me.

I had been pregnant, taken medication, bled, lost the child—and was now being condemned by the public.

That was all there was to it.

So what exactly was there left to “deal with”?

Hadn’t he always taken satisfaction in watching me be criticized?

Fortunately, because of his busy schedule, he did not accompany me on the day of the hospital visit.

Instead, his adjutants stayed by my side, watching me closely.

I wondered if they felt no resentment, being assigned such a trivial duty—simply to monitor me.

They were all elites, graduates of the military academy.

And yet…the thought of how much they might despise me made me uneasy.

Seeing how he commanded government troops as if they were his personal soldiers, I suddenly found myself wondering just how absolute his power truly was.

At last, the day of my hospital visit arrived.

I hid my face deeply beneath a cloak and hood as I left the estate.

Whether inside the carriage or outside it, I remained under tight surveillance.

Even after arriving at the hospital, nothing changed.

Dozens of soldiers surrounded me, as if afraid someone might catch a glimpse of me.
If anything, it only made me stand out more.

“Fortunately, there are no significant issues. You should be able to resume a normal life now.”

As if patient confidentiality meant nothing, the soldiers stood there listening to every word the doctor said about my condition. They even took my medical records and diagnosis report. Those would, without a doubt, be delivered straight to my husband.

‘Resume a normal life.’

The doctor’s words sounded like a death sentence.

In other words, I was now fit to lie with my husband again—to conceive another child.

“There’s one last examination left. Please follow the nurse.”

A normal life. A normal life…

‘How am I supposed to live normally?’

I followed the nurse, numbly turning those words over in my mind.

The remaining examinations were deeply invasive—requiring me to undress, to provide blood and urine samples—so the soldiers could do nothing but stand guard outside. They were not allowed into the examination room.

The room I entered was dim, crowded with nurses moving busily about.

I stood there blankly, waiting for my turn when suddenly, a reckless thought struck me.

‘With this many people… maybe—’

If I blended in among the countless medical staff, patients, and guardians…could I slip past the soldiers’ watch and escape?

My heart began to pound violently.

A fragile, naive hope rose within me along with the clumsy, desperate belief that I might actually be able to escape from here.