Sveta’s vacant gaze drifted along the uneven lines of the map hanging on the wall.

‘A kitchen with a round window. Dongel and Madam Nora. A small garden where fresh green crops grow…’

As she imagined the life that might follow her escape, the turbulent tide of emotions within her gradually began to settle.

But only for a moment.

With a harsh bang, the office door flew open. A familiar voice followed at once. It was Aiden.

“Why are you here?”

Her shoulders, which had stiffened in surprise, slowly relaxed as she replied.

“I needed somewhere no one would come. Was I not allowed to enter the office?”

“…It’s fine.”

He approached her. Perhaps he had hurried; beneath the musk scent lingered the faint smell of sweat.

Gently stroking her black hair that fell softly to her lower back, Aiden released a long breath.

“Sveta.”

“Yes.”

“…Are you hurt?”

His voice was even, almost flat. Yet the moment she heard that calm tone, something surged up inside her.

It felt as though the humiliation she had endured existed entirely because of this man. And yet he remained composed. That composure angered her all the more.

Sveta lifted her eyes sharply.

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“…”

“You could have simply kept me in my room. You didn’t need to make me attend the engagement ceremony.”

Gently rubbing the edge of her ear, he spoke as though soothing a child.

“You will stand beside me at my wedding as well.”

“Why?”

“…”

He had thrown her carelessly into humiliation and ignored her whenever it suited him. She resented him for that.

Sveta pushed firmly against his hard chest with both hands.

“There’s no reason, is there? You always do as you please, Duke.”

“…From now on, you will accompany me to official events.”

“…”

His grip tightened around her wrists. His gaze moved slowly over the deep curve of her neckline.

Sveta stilled, turning his words over in her mind.

‘Accompany him…?’

She lifted her eyes and looked at him steadily.

His deep green eyes were murky, like a fog-covered marsh. Within them, she saw desire flickering. His jaw was clenched; the muscles along its sharp line stood out.

There was nothing to gain by provoking him now. She answered in a quieter voice.

“What do you mean by ‘accompany’? That’s far too vague.”

“Believe what you see in my eyes.”

“That’s still vague.”

“I mean you should believe what I show you through my actions. I will cherish you.”

“Believe your actions…”

A dry breath escaped her.

What he had shown her so far was contempt and disregard—possessiveness and deception. And now he told her to believe his actions.

He must have forgotten everything he had done to her. Otherwise, he could not be this shameless.

The realization drained the strength from her body. Aiden pulled her into his arms.

“Let’s go back and have something light to eat.”

“…”

“Sveta.”

He stroked the back of her neck slowly with his large palm.

“You should eat something before the evening banquet.”

“Must I… attend the banquet as well?”

“Yes.”

His gloved hand moved slowly across her bare back. His hot breath brushed against the top of her head.

She flinched and turned, but remained held firmly in his arms.

His red lips traced a slow path from the curve of her shoulder to her neck. A silent shiver ran through her, making the hairs on her arms stand on end.

She drew her shoulders in and lifted her chin, breathing in short bursts. Her gaze fell upon the map hanging on the wall.

Suddenly, she remembered the conversation she had overheard among the nobles in the main hall.

Struggling to steady her breathing, she asked—

“I heard you’re going to Czernok with the Marquis of Matwood and his daughter.”

His lips, which had reached her neck, brushed against her ear. His voice slipped into it softly.

“That’s correct. How did you know that?”

“I overheard someone who said they’d come from Czernok.”

His wandering lips moved from her ear to her cheek.

“…Am I going as well? To Czernok.”

“Do you wish to?”

“You’re the one who said I would accompany you.”

His lips crossed her cheek and touched lightly at the corner of her mouth before pulling away.

Aiden grasped her thin shoulders and turned her to face him fully. His gaze lingered for a moment on the rise and fall of her bodice.

“If you kiss me.”

“…Today is your engagement ceremony.”

“So?”

She felt no fondness for the young Marchioness of Matwood, yet behaving like this on the day of the engagement did not feel right.

She knew it was a pitiful scrap of morality, but this much she wanted to protect.

“At least today, you shouldn’t do this with me.”

“Didn’t I tell you? Watch my actions.”

“…”

“On a day like this, I’d rather they see how easily I’m swayed by you.”

He curved his lips upward with deliberate gentleness.

“I chose you.”

Sveta lightly bit the inside of her lip.

At that moment, he clearly had the upper hand. His words were all lies.

Their gazes locked once more — green against blue. It felt like sinking into a thick, clinging marsh.

She felt like a sordid mistress indeed. Guilt surged within her, heavy and suffocating, like water rising to drown her.

He slipped his fingers behind her waist and drew her closer. Their bodies pressed together, and an unwelcome heat flared up between them.

Forcing herself to ignore it, Sveta deliberately turned her thoughts elsewhere.

She imagined a modest kitchen filled with the warm scent of freshly baked bread.

She pictured the clear droplets of dew resting on the green leaves of a small garden.

To that quiet, peaceful future waiting not far ahead.

To reach it, she had to escape properly.

There could be no mistake.

‘I’m using him. That’s all.’

Squeezing her eyes shut, she raised her trembling hands and cupped Aiden’s cheeks. Then she pressed her lips to his.

The dark emotions flooding her felt like drowning.

***

As the sky turned pink, the evening banquet began.

Soft melodies from the orchestra drifted through the lavishly adorned, flower-filled hall. As those not invited to the engagement ceremony were also permitted to attend the banquet, a large number of guests arrived.

Every face shone with eager anticipation as they waited for the evening’s hosts to appear.

Amid the gathering crowd, Henrik Meriner scanned the hall carefully.

“She hasn’t arrived yet…?”

Instead of the woman he was searching for, someone else caught his eye.

The duke’s fiancée entered, wearing a green silk gown that flared out dramatically around her like a peacock displaying its tail.

‘It seemed she meant to blind everyone in the daylight.’

Now she was conspicuous in another way.

Her eyes were swollen, as though she had been crying. Noblewomen clustered around her, murmuring words of comfort.

Not long after, the duke entered with his mistress at his side.

“At last.”

Henrik broke into a wide smile upon spotting Sveta.

Her eyes, too, were faintly flushed—much like Alyona Matwood’s.

The duke was immediately surrounded by well-wishers offering their congratulations.

Sveta stood a few steps apart, her eyes lowered halfway, unmoving.

With her jet-black hair and snow-pale skin, she resembled a winter night. And those clear sky-blue eyes—

‘Is it because she dyes her hair black? No matter how I think of it… she feels familiar.’

An odd sense of dissonance unsettled him. He layered different faces over Sveta’s in his mind.

‘There’s someone she resembles… I can almost remember.’

He narrowed his eyes.

“Viscount Meriner.”

The face that had flickered through his thoughts vanished like smoke. Henrik turned.

“When will you be returning to Czernok?”

It was the eldest son of a baronial family said to serve as a vassal to the ducal house.

Henrik offered a practiced social smile.

“I plan to leave tomorrow.”

“If you wish, we would be honored to host you at our residence.”

So they knew he was an investigator for the Duke of Baiton.

He understood their intention—to forge some connection with Prisada. Yet he might also find it useful.

“I had intended to stay at the ducal estate, but since you’ve extended the invitation, I’ll gladly pay a visit.”

“It’s an honor.”

“The honor is mine.”

Having concluded the exchange with polite brevity, Henrik glanced around once more in search of Sveta.

The duke was still surrounded by a crowd, but his mistress was nowhere nearby.

“A wounded flower always hides in the same places.”

Murmuring to himself, he headed toward the spot where he was certain she would be.

***

“I’ll set her straight today, no matter what!”

With firm resolve, Dalia entered the banquet hall and began searching for her adopted daughter.

Tonight was the night to seize that girl and knock some sense into her.

Recently, Dalia had found herself in a most troublesome situation.

Lady Noma—her powerful patron—had not awakened for over two seasons.

“There’s only one way left for me now.”

Her adopted daughter, bearing the name of Baron Luce, held Dalia’s comfortable future in her hands.

‘It was wise to make her my daughter.’

Turning Sveta into a link to the baron had been a truly shrewd move.

Under the pretext of searching for the missing Baron Luce, she had settled into the ducal estate. But in truth, Dalia knew.

The baron was almost certainly dead. She simply pretended not to know.

The moment his death was acknowledged, all his property would pass into the hands of his elder brother, Baron Norien.

“There’s only a year and a half left.”

She needed to endure just a year and a half more.

If three years passed while the baron remained missing, his child could claim the inheritance.

But Sveta—that insolent girl—had recently grown cold in her attitude toward the duke.

That would not do.

‘She should be striving to please him!’

Now that the duke was even engaged, it was more important than ever to secure his attachment.

And so Dalia intended to give her adopted daughter a sort of “special education.”

She would teach her properly how to captivate a man.

“Where on earth has she hidden herself?”

That girl always had a habit of slipping into corners. Dalia strode confidently toward the balcony tucked into the farthest edge of the hall.

“As expected.”

Through the half-drawn curtain, she caught sight of Sveta, elegantly dressed.

Dalia’s lips curved upward as she stepped forward—

When suddenly a man shoved her aside and pushed past without so much as an apology.

“What is the meaning of this ruden—!”

The man stepped onto the balcony, abruptly drawing a long sword from his waist and charging toward Sveta.

Startled, Dalia froze in place.

Her eyes locked with Sveta’s sky-blue ones, wide with terror.

In the next instant, the curtain before her eyes snapped shut.