‘……Sir Duston had reason to treat me that way.’

Radilt sighed as she picked up the boxes stacked by the door. Her mother-in-law’s gaze, tone, attitude. All of it bound Radilt with one meaning.

If only you weren’t here.

Useless cursed thing. Unlucky thing in this world. Worthless thing. Everything is your fault, your fault, your fault. Yes, you should have died.

You should have died instead.

She had lived every day under that gaze, receiving such treatment.

‘……That’s who I am.’

Creeak, the stairs let out a long, thin groan. She pushed open the door to her old bridal room with her foot. It was dark, lit only by shadows. The cool air struck her cheeks. The cold bedroom of one left alone.

Radilt dropped the boxes in a heap and collapsed onto the bed.

‘I…….’

Even the strongest person cannot help being influenced by their surroundings and the people they face. Moreover, Radilt, having just lost her husband, had been so weak she seemed ready to stop breathing at any moment.

It didn’t take long for her to become accustomed to her mother-in-law’s cold whipping and eventually accept it as natural. The doubt that perhaps she deserved to die soon settled deep in her heart.

‘Sir Duston must have noticed too.’

The expensive dress crumpled beneath her heavy body. No matter how glossy the packaging wrapped around her was, that man would have seen through to her deepest core.

This woman is worthless. She’s used to being treated as worthless. So it’s fine to pick her up and use her however I want.

‘……I’m not particularly sad.’

Her head felt half-numb, just dazed. Radilt lightly rubbed her dry eyes and slowly rose. She removed the glamorous dress and delicate silver ornaments, placing them in an old drawer.

The rainbow-colored nightmare closed its eyes, and when dawn broke, daily life would continue again. Meaninglessly repeating to herself that it was nothing, that it had always been this way.

Large, beautiful eyes holding vivid green.

Though Pendlore Duston was a man of fastidious taste, he couldn’t easily dismiss Radilt’s eyes. The deep green color reminiscent of grass, the clear sparkling hue, even their shape was close to perfect—like jewels.

So despite her shortcomings, he had thought he could tolerate having her by his side for three months.

‘Quite good.’

He was unexpectedly satisfied. That woman.

In the carriage heading to his residence, Pendlore leisurely savored the lingering impression of Radilt.

She certainly had awkward and naive aspects. But she was reasonably perceptive, didn’t get unnecessarily excited, and though she might flare up emotionally, she quickly knew how to calm herself.

He also liked that she had few desires. Though perhaps she had a bit too few.

‘The advantages outweigh the rest.’

Moreover, her appearance, which he hadn’t particularly expected much from, exceeded his imagination. He had guessed she might look fairly presentable when dressed up, but.

Pendlore recalled the woman standing beyond the door.

The shadowed gaze that looked back at him despite her awkwardness. The small face with elegant curves, slightly thin, beneath the delicately styled blonde hair. The slender neck that seemed small enough to hold in one hand and the round shoulders that shyly shrank back. The full bosom with a clear presence despite being hidden by the shawl, contrasting with her slim waist.

Honestly, he was quite surprised. The corner of Pendlore’s lips unconsciously rose slightly, but distinctly.

“Welcome home, master.”

The door of the carriage that had arrived at House Duston opened, and butler Roil greeted his master and continued.

“Duke Noia Sanche Babloth and Sir Cherse Ruard have come to visit.”

Pendlore’s brow shadowed at the news that uninvited guests were waiting.

“Isn’t it too late to receive guests?”

“They insisted on seeing your face before leaving……”

His mood, which had been quite pleasant upon discovering that what he thought was a common pebble turned out to be a polished jade, instantly plummeted.

Pendlore headed to the reception room without hiding his annoyed expression. The two men sitting on the sofa jumped up upon seeing the host finally appear.

“Pendlore! Welcome back!”

Cherse smiled brightly, and beside him, Noia suddenly wore an expression full of emotion.

“I’ve never seen Duston with such a bright face.”

“……”

Pendlore’s already displeased gaze grew even colder at Noia’s words. It was a fierce look that would make anyone with a small liver shrink back and flee, but the two men, accustomed to their friend’s glares, chattered away unfazed.

“No, that’s not the first time. He looked just as pleased three years ago when I sentenced Benedin to death.”

“What? That much? My dear friend! I must hear the details!”

“Shut up.”

Pendlore glared at Noia, touching his fingertips to his throbbing head.

The white, beautiful youth with brilliant golden hair and clear blue eyes, often compared to an angel, wore a gentle, innocent smile. The Babloth Senior Judge was a man who instilled fear in countless nobles with that harmless face.

The beloved youngest of the Babloth ducal family and the Emperor’s cherished nephew. Despite being able to enjoy a rich and comfortable life with unlimited power at his back, he entered the judiciary and wielded a cold blade regardless of status—the implacable judge of corrupt nobles, immune to bribes, threats, or pleas.

Though he was rumored to be a merciless demon with an angel’s face in court, in private settings….

“I’m truly moved! My precious Duston has learned to smile for something other than business and revenge……”

He was even more unnecessarily emotional than Cherse. Pendlore let out a short sigh at his so-called friend’s behavior, who took out a handkerchief with sophisticated hand movements and sniffled.

“……Where did you see it?”

“Dianan Fre, of course. Sir Bonaël begged me to meet him just once, so I got a free dinner.”

It was an expensive meal, but to Noia, it probably felt no more significant than receiving a couple of cookies.

“You managed to swallow food with that trash in front of you.”

“The food isn’t to blame. More importantly, was it Mrs. Radilt Brill?”

“Noia, you’re forbidden from approaching her.”

“Why!”

“Ah, I agree with that too.”

Cherse raised one hand and said.

“The first meeting between the angel-faced youngest Duke Babloth and his beloved lady should be at the wedding. At minimum, the engagement ceremony.”

“You treat me too much like a scoundrel. Above all, I’m a bachelor by principle.”

“Yes, yes. And the other bachelor over there just returned from his first date.”

Pendlore completely ignored Cherse’s teasing. Though he liked Radilt, it was only as a suitable business partner. He still had no intention of marrying, nor even dating sincerely.

The same would be true for Radilt Brill.

“If you’ve seen enough of my face, you can leave now.”

“As a matchmaker and friend, allow me just one more question. How was the date, Sir Duston? Surely you didn’t just drag the poor Mrs. Brill around grumpily like you are now. That would be completely terrible! I was so worried after sending you both off without a chance to catch you!”

Pendlore clicked his tongue briefly at the noisy questioning and answered rigidly, clearly meaning “hear this and get out quickly.”

“I gave her dresses and jewelry as gifts, had dinner together, and escorted her to her door.”

“The classic date formula! Of course with tender whispers added?”

“A few words of praise at least. Satisfied now?”

“Duston, you really like that lady!”

Noia marveled that he had given not just one but several compliments.

“Get out now.”

“Just one, just one more thing!”

Despite the increasingly chilly gaze that suggested Pendlore wanted to grab them by the scruff of their necks and throw them over the wall, Cherse stubbornly offered his advice.

“Be sure to prepare a gift before your second meeting. Something that suits Mrs. Brill. Something that makes her think you personally selected it while thinking of your beloved.”

“……”

“Ruard, shall we go now?”

“Yes, it’s getting late, so let’s. It was enjoyable, Pendlore. By the way, may I tell Ravishiel?”

“No.”

“Everyone will know by tomorrow evening anyway, so why not just—”

“……Cherse Ruard.”

At the low, growling threat, Cherse quickly turned away. The two left almost fleeing, and silence returned. In the heavily calmed air of the reception room, Pendlore’s neck tilted slowly.

‘Tomorrow, then.’

Though he had warned them to keep quiet, as Cherse said, rumors would spread through society in a day or two at most. Pendlore had anticipated this too. Hadn’t he mentioned it when binding the feet of the woman who wanted to escape?

He recalled Radilt Brill’s personal details that had been reported to him. Since they met at the Plumen Party, Radilt’s background or circumstances weren’t an issue.

What mattered was her life after meeting Pendlore Duston, not before.

Pendlore rose from his seat after organizing his thoughts briefly.

“Roil.”

The butler waiting outside the reception room approached at his master’s call.

“I have a task for you.”

To deliver some indirect advice to his dear Mrs. Radilt Brill.