“Stop this.”

“…What?”

There was not even the bare minimum of courtesy in his words. His flat tone pierced her chest like a sharpened arrowhead.

“You must have known it was a futile effort.”

His face was cold as ice, his lips drawn into a firm line. There was not a trace of desire in him.

Humiliation crept upward, coiling hot around her throat.

“There is only one woman for me.”

She could not understand. And because she could not understand, she refused to accept it.

“What do you mean? That woman is dead.”

“You are worth less than a dead woman.”

The voice that scraped out of his throat was unbearably hoarse.

Alyona wasn’t going to accept his cruel words.

She sprang to her feet and clung to his arm.

“I am still your fiancée! Don’t cast me aside like this. Our families pledged a future together!”

“……”

“So if you treat me this way, it won’t bode well for Strilland either! The House of Matwood will lodge a formal protest!”

“You overestimate Matwood.”

As he shook her off mercilessly, she saw something black swaying in his hand.

Narrowing her eyes, Alyona stared at it.

It was a woman’s hair.

There was no mistaking whose it belonged to.

Humiliation and shame consumed her. It felt as though something were devouring her alive.

Without saying a word, he was telling her with his entire being: “You are worth less than a dead woman.”

Her eyes stung. Faced with such humiliation for the first time, her teeth ground together of their own accord.

“Get up.”

“No!”

“……”

Ultimately, Alyona was forcibly removed from the bedchamber and thrown into the corridor, given no chance to resist.

After summoning the knights and giving them a brief order, Aiden turned and returned to his room.

Not long afterwards, the maid who had run her errand was brought out, too.

An unfamiliar tension hung in the air — heavy, suffocating and isolating. The stares directed at her were unlike anything she had experienced before.

She could not bear it.

Her shattered pride flared up again and Alyona pushed herself to her feet.

But her arms were seized at once.

“What are you doing? I’m leaving!”

Two knights, their expressions rigid, dared to grip her shoulders and force her down.

“What is the meaning of this insolence? If you treat me this way, it won’t bode well for you either!”

“It is our lord’s command.”

“…What?”

“My lady is not permitted to go anywhere.”

“What absurd—”

Every attempt to rise was blocked.

In the end, Alyona was forced to kneel side by side with the maid and remain that way through the entire night.

“Ha…”

At first, she ground her teeth in fury. Now, laughter rose instead.

A hollow laugh, like a sigh, escaped her as she thought of Aiden and the cruel things he had said to her.

The sharp words he had flung at her. The look of disgust on his face. And his utterly wretched taste.

‘He tangled his legs countless times with that barbarian wench.’

The more she thought about it, the more disappointed she felt in his vulgar tastes.

Aiden Strilland was truly a despicable man.

This was the conclusion Alyona had reached after a night of relentless contemplation.

‘I cannot have him.’

She had long refused to acknowledge the truth because it evoked a sense of defeat that she despised.

Now, however, she had no choice but to admit it.

She also realized that it wasn’t such a tragedy after all.

“…Then I’ll simply break him. If he’s broken, I won’t want him anymore.”

This way, she would still get everything she wanted.

She would remain Alyona Matwood, the woman who had it all.

Having arrived at what she deemed to be the perfect conclusion, Alyona curved her lips upwards.

She could feel the maid trembling beside her.

***

Sveta hid in the bushes near her house, staring intently at the front door.

She had begun her stakeout at dawn.

‘I’m sleepy…’

Drowsiness swirled around her, tugging insistently at her eyelids.

The mild winter weather made her even sleepier.

She shook her head to shake off the drowsiness and forced her eyes open wide.

“Today, I’ll find out for sure.”

Determined to catch whoever had been leaving a deep-purple anemone on her doorstep every day, she lay in wait.

She was going to demand an explanation and warn them firmly never to bring that unsettling flower again.

Just as she pressed her lips together, she sensed a presence behind her.

“What are you doing here?”

Startled, Sveta nearly toppled forward.

“You—”

A boy holding a long stick looked down at her.

The afternoon sunlight fell softly on his platinum-blonde hair.

His face was familiar.

He was the boy who had often lingered near her house, keen to find out more about his new neighbor.

“I’m Alphy. Alphy Pellen. What’s your name, sister?”

Meeting the child’s clear green eyes, Sveta rose to her feet.

“My name is Sveta.”

“But your leg… does it hurt?”

“I’m fine now.”

The boy frowned at the cane in her hand, his dark brown brows knitting together.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ah, me? I’m catching butterflies.”

Alphy lifted a small wooden box and gave it a little shake.

Sveta’s gaze drifted from the box to his tiny hands, as small as maple leaves.

“Why are you catching butterflies?”

Alphy adjusted the stick to which the small net was attached, narrowing his eyes as he did so.

Fixing his gaze on the yellow butterfly fluttering around Sveta, he whispered.

“The viscount in the next village collects butterflies as a hobby. I’m going to catch some and sell them to him.”

“Why?”

“I want to buy my grandmother a pair of glasses. Oh—and a new bed, too. Her eyes hurt, and so does her back.”

Now that he mentioned it, Sveta remembered seeing an elderly woman out walking several times.

‘Her back was bent… So that was Alphy’s grandmother.’

While she searched her memory, Alphy took a few careful steps toward the butterfly.

“Shall I buy your grandmother a bed instead?”

The boy gently lowered the net over the butterfly that had settled on a white wildflower.

“Look. They always try to fly upward. When they climb to the top of the net, you grab them here.”

Skillfully placing the butterfly into the box, Alphy beamed.

“Oh, and sister. I want to buy Grandma’s present with my own money. That way she’ll be happier.”

Sveta nodded.

“I see. That’s very admirable.”

“But I have a favor to ask.”

Glancing around again, Alphy said.

“I want to keep it a secret from Grandma… Can I leave the butterflies I catch in your shed?”

“Of course. You can come by anytime.”

“Thank you!”

The boy suddenly hugged her, his cheeks puffing out into a bright smile.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Sveta wrapped her arms around him. His round head was so endearing that she couldn’t help but smile; it was like a chestnut.

She carefully smoothed down his pale blonde hair.

“But sister, you shouldn’t give presents to strangers.”

“…Hmm?”

“You said you’d buy Grandma glasses earlier.”

“Oh, right.”

“Grandma says you shouldn’t just hand things out to anyone.”

The little mouth chattering away was adorable.

“Is that so? All right. I’ll be careful from now on.”

Alphy nodded vigorously and trotted back towards the grass.

His hair shimmered as he hurried along.

As she watched him, a certain face naturally came to mind.

Hair of a deeper gold. A pale, straight brow and a sharp nose. Crimson lips that had formed a low, velvety voice.

‘No. Don’t think about him.’

He was out of her reach. There was no reason for her to keep thinking about him. He was undoubtedly living well — still proud and noble, and unchanged.

Tightening her grip on the cane, Sveta stepped forward with quiet determination.

Suddenly, her left leg seized up in a sharp spasm, as if rebuking her for the effort.

Even so, the familiar pain could not erase the lingering image from her mind.

Her face tightened with the pain.

Just then, the boy came running back towards her, delighted with his catch.

“Does it hurt? A lot?”

“…Yes. It hurts. A lot.”

“I’ll support you. Should I walk you home?”

“Would you?”

Leaning lightly on the boy’s small, soft hand, Sveta made it to her front door.

“Alphy, would you like to come in for some tea?”

“Tea?”

His eyes widened.

‘Do children not drink tea?’

“Not fond of tea? I bought some chocolate for a friend—would you like some?”

“Yes!”

His excitement lifted her spirits as well. Reaching for the doorknob, she paused slightly.

“I thought I locked the door…”

An odd feeling brushed against her mind, but she led Alphy inside without much thought.

She had risen before dawn—perhaps she had simply forgotten in her fatigue.

“But sister, what’s this?”

“Hmm?”

Alphy darted into the kitchen as if it were his own home and lifted something from the table.

“Wow. I’ve never seen a flower like this before.”

“……”

For a fleeting instant, the anemone in the child’s hand looked blood-red.

A chill crept slowly up her arm.

***

Upon hearing the news at first light, the Marquis of Matwood hurried down the corridors of the ducal estate, out of breath.

The sight of Alyona kneeling on the floor, trembling uncontrollably, was painful to behold.

“Why did you do such a thing, Alyona?”

“Father…”

Her face crumpled into a pitiful expression and tears spilled down her cheeks. It was still early morning. If the duke were to awaken, matters would undoubtedly become complicated.

Draping a sable-fur cloak over his daughter’s rounded shoulders, he whispered.

“I told you to let it go. His Grace does not wish to marry.”

“I thought it would be all right once that harlot was dead.”

“Yes. That filthy barbarian received her punishment. But Alyona, what cannot be done cannot be done.”

Alyona shook her head vehemently.

“I don’t want him either. Even if he were handed to me now, I wouldn’t take him.”

“Hush. Keep your voice down. Let us return home first.”

His voice was cautious, low.

Standing by the doorway, Aiden drank his wine as he listened to them.

‘Harlot. Filthy thing. Barbarian…’

He knew she was called such names. But had he ever truly shared her pain? He had believed that loving her would be enough.

The memory of his foolishness made him feel as though he could crush the glass in his hand and cut his throat on its jagged edge.

Without hesitation, Aiden turned towards the desk in the corner of the bedroom.

He pulled a tightly rolled sheet of paper out of the top drawer.