If that day came, she wanted to leave with Lady Nora.

They could only afford a small, worn-out house, but she would find them a tidy little cottage, however modest it might be.

She would find work.

She would tend a small garden with her own hands.

Together, they would support each other and make the best of things.

If she could overcome her fear of water, she also wanted to travel to Muwieo one day.

With Roundie.

‘I don’t know if they’ll let a horse board a ship… but we promised to see the mountains and the sea together…’

Lost in her thoughts, Sveta wandered aimlessly.

The pink roses that lined the path were now familiar to her.

Yet, as she gazed at them, she felt uneasy.

Aiden had obsessively filled every garden with a single color. Would a man so relentless really let her go?

“I truly don’t understand him, Roundie. I feel so lost…”

Her thoughts drifted aimlessly along the endless tide of roses.

‘If he marries… if that happens… what becomes of me?’

It was not difficult to imagine that his noble wife would despise a mistress.

‘What if—what if his wife tries to kill me, the way Lady Noma did?’

This time, she did not want to simply endure it.

Then…

‘Would I have to run again?’

A terrifying thought suddenly hit Sveta, causing her to stop walking.

At the end of the street ahead was the Duke, waiting for her.

With a mere nod, Pailin, who had been following Sveta, took control.

Pailin disappeared with Roundie.

The Duke extended his long stride and approached her.

“I have been waiting for you.”

“…How did you know I would come here?”

“……”

Aiden didn’t answer.

This was nothing new. He often pretended not to hear things he didn’t want to acknowledge.

‘So it must have irritated him.’

Aiden took her hand and bent down to kiss the back of it. His warm breath seeped beneath her glove.

Sveta pulled her hand away forcefully.

However, his large hand slipped back between her fingers and wound its way through them.

Her resistance was meaningless.

“Soon, you will go out with me.”

“…Where are we going?”

“I was thinking of buying you a dress.”

Her steps faltered. Suddenly, her ankle twisted slightly, and discomfort shot through her.

She fixed her gaze on the pink hem of her skirt swaying over her leather shoes.

“I already have many dresses.”

“Not an indoor gown. You will need one suitable for a ceremony.”

“I have no event to attend.”

“You must attend my engagement ceremony.”

“……”

He announced his engagement in a calm voice.

A warm breeze drifted between them.

Now, she could make out his natural scent beneath the heavy musk — an aroma so potent that it almost took her breath away.

She could see the faint gleam of his golden hair.

The sunlight seemed to favor him alone.

The chill that crept down her neck at the mere sight of him.

The quiet tension that always surrounded him.

She was tired of it all.

“How considerate of you. Even preparing a dress for the mistress to wear at your engagement.”

“…It will be a marriage in name only.”

“I was a mistress in name only as well. And who will be Your Grace’s wife in name? Her Majesty? Or the Marquess’s daughter?”

Her tone was sharper than she intended.

Clamping her lips shut, Sveta lowered her head again, staring only at her toes.

He answered evenly.

“The Marquess’s daughter.”

“…Congratulations, Your Grace.”

Hadn’t he once told her that she had a vivid imagination?

He had been right.

Sveta found herself imagining the child she would one day have with him.

His child, born of a noblewoman.

Unlike the child that had once rested in her womb, this one would be precious, protected and cherished.

She imagined a small, beautiful baby with green eyes and hair like spun gold.

‘Will I have to see that child? Will I be able to endure it?’

Perhaps it was a case of foolish imagination.

However, as the head of the ducal house, he would one day have an heir.

The child would resemble him. And that child would resemble Berry, too.

‘How could I bear it? My child is gone—how could I watch another live?’

The surge of loss burned behind her eyes.

“Then let me—”

As if sensing something, Aiden stopped walking.

But Sveta did not.

Her arm, pulled backward, began to ache.

“Let me go, Your Grace. You have avoided marriage with Her Majesty and will soon take a wife. So… I am done.”

“……”

“I will step down. As your mistress.”

It felt absurd to formally announce her departure to a man who once said that a mistress was no better than a harlot.

Desperate to escape, Sveta stubbornly took another step, but he did not move aside.

Aiden caught her and turned her towards him. He seemed to use hardly any strength, yet she stumbled helplessly into his arms.

Now his face was right before hers, composed and unreadable.

As though the storm raging within her belonged only to her, his red lips slowly parted.

“…Who decided that?”

“We agreed from the beginning. That I would be your mistress for only one year.”

“I changed my mind.”

Aiden stepped closer and lowered his head.

His long fingers slipped into the loosely tied strands of her hair.

“My mind has changed as well. I don’t—”

‘I don’t love you anymore.’

The words she had failed to finish turned into a fragile breath, which his mouth swallowed.

The kiss began as though he intended to consume her.

Sveta gasped.

With the hand he had not restrained, she hit his solid chest hard. But his hot, unsteady breath spilled over her trembling lips. His tongue brushed against her teeth and slipped into her mouth with a familiarity that felt almost merciless.

The fingers that had lingered at the nape of her neck slid down her back, tracing its length with slow, deliberate pressure.

Her waist trembled.

Aiden pulled her tightly against him, forcing her head to tip back. The hand that had tried to push him away now clutched at his collar instead.

Every place where their bodies touched seemed to burn.

The gliding fingers along her spine and the firm pressure of his body against hers were overwhelming.

Despite herself, she was responding to him.

The humiliation of that realization was almost unbearable.

“Mm…”

The kiss softened.

It became lighter, like the gentle brush of birds’ beaks or the swaying of grass in a warm breeze.

At some point, Aiden had removed his glove.

His bare hand gently smoothed over her arched eyebrows.

He traced the corners of her eyes, her flushed cheeks, and her soft earlobe.

Finally, he wiped her damp lower lip and whispered.

“With no woman but you will I ever do this.”

“……”

“I will not share a bed with another.”

She closed her eyes to avoid his gaze.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Aiden bent down again, pressing his lips firmly against her rounded forehead and rubbing them there, as though her refusal meant nothing to him.

His tenderness was overwhelming.

She hated this radiant man who was willing to lower himself to her level yet give her nothing.

“…Would you like some tea?”

“No. I don’t want any, Your Grace.”

“Then food?”

“I don’t want that either.”

He continued asking.

“Will you return to the bedchamber?”

“No.”

“Then a long walk would not be unpleasant.”

He began walking slowly.

With her hand still caught in his, Sveta had no choice but to follow.

“Those shoes will hurt your feet.”

“……”

“Tell me if you’re tired.”

“……”

The sun had already begun to sink towards the horizon, casting long shadows behind them.

Two dark silhouettes — one tall and the other slight — loomed before her.

They looked almost tender together.

She hated that.

That hollow illusion of closeness.

A relationship sustained by nothing but pretense.

Sveta turned her face away, refusing even to look at their shadows.

“…Are you upset?”

“What?”

“I am asking whether your heart is unsettled.”

“Why would it be?”

“Because I am to be engaged.”

“What does Your Grace’s engagement have to do with me—”

She bit her lip.

Something struck her with sudden clarity.

Wasn’t he acting almost as though he were soothing the wounded heart of a lover?

Aiden tilted his head slightly and studied her.

Bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun, he fixed his gaze on her lips.

“…Speak.”

“Sveta.”

The moment this handsome man uttered her name with unbearable tenderness, she felt an inexplicable urge.

An inexplicable urge pushed her forward.

Sveta lifted her eyes.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“All of it. Everything you’ve shown me lately. Could it be that you…?”

“……”

“Do you love me?”

They stopped walking.

Even the swaying shadows before them were still.

Only the faint, uneven sound of his breathing could be heard.

After a moment, Aiden started walking again. The soft crunch of earth beneath his boots echoed along the path.

He did not answer.

‘There it is again. Another thing he refuses to hear.’

A familiar sense of misery settled heavily upon her.

Although he had become kinder, that didn’t mean he had truly changed.

She despised herself for softening towards him once again.

Even if he had told her he loved her, what difference would it have made? She did not know.

She did not understand this man.

Nor did she understand her own heart.

Sveta lowered her head.

One thing was certain, however.

When he chose silence over an answer, she felt a sharp pang of disappointment.

This meant that she had been hoping, without even realizing it.

Yes.

At the very least, perhaps she had wanted to hear those words from him once.

From the man she told herself she no longer loved, she wanted to hear him say that he loved her.

All his tenderness had given her was this: Misery, sadness and a fragile sliver of expectation that she had never intended to harbor.

She did not want to live like this anymore.

‘Then… I must leave. I must leave him.’

At last, they reached the end of the rose garden.

There, Sveta tied the tangled threads of her thoughts into a firm knot.

Her fingers tightened.

As if by instinct, Aiden’s grip tightened in response.

Ignoring the warmth of his palm against hers, Sveta reaffirmed her resolve.

‘I will leave him.’