Muttering the name her lover had whispered so softly, Alyona paced the corridor.

For a moment, she superimposed her own image onto the face of the woman who had slept with her husband.

Her heartbeat shifted to a different rhythm.

“My longtime friend, my dearest…”

As she murmured to herself, elegant cursive began to fill the page.

[…For these reasons, I find myself in need of that special fragrance. My betrothed often falls asleep with the censer lit beside him. I would be grateful if you could send it as soon as possible…]

After writing polite closing words and the usual promise to meet again if she ever visited Sweenia, Alyona sealed the letter.

***

The following afternoon—

A burst of commotion from the garden startled Sveta awake.

She had been sitting on the balcony couch; it seemed she had dozed off.

‘I’m exhausted…’

Her whole body ached.

Sharing his bed was always tiring, but yesterday had been particularly exhausting.

Aiden had been relentless and far more forceful than ever before, as though he was releasing everything he had held back.

Her thighs and hips, scraped against the window ledge during their encounter, still throbbed faintly.

At least it had ended after just the once.

Once the afterglow of their intimacy had faded, misery clung to her like sticky resin.

Yet there was one small consolation.

‘At least I’m allowed to go out now.’

Just as Sveta was about to rise, a sharp voice cut through the heavy stomping of feet trampling the soil.

“This is absurd. It’s so unfair. Why do we have to do this? We only stood by and watched.”

“I know. They leave the Marchioness Matwood’s daughter alone—the one who actually trampled the garden—and make us do this instead…!”

Upon hearing the familiar name, Sveta cautiously leaned over the railing.

Below her bedroom, the vast garden stretched out, matching the castle’s grandeur in size.

Six young ladies moved about busily, as lively and bright as flowers blooming against the sea of green.

They were gathering the uprooted plants into an ever-growing pile.

One blonde lady in particular caught her attention. She repeatedly wiped her sweat-dampened brow — she was clearly exhausted.

Sveta recognized her at once: It was Bella Grayton, the same woman who had shoved her at the harbor. When Bella carelessly dropped her handkerchief, a nearby maid hurried forward to pick it up.

‘What are they doing?’

It was a strange sight.

While the smartly dressed young ladies were busy cleaning the garden, the maids and gardeners stood idly outside the flowerbeds.

“What are you staring at?”

Bella snapped irritably, flicking her hand. At her gesture, the servants standing nearby stepped back at once.

Bella tossed aside a wilted flower and said.

“The Marchioness Matwood’s daughter has taken to her bed. So we have no choice but to do this.”

“For what reason? She seemed perfectly fine just recently.”

“What else? Her insides must be rotting. That base mistress, apparently…”

Trailing off deliberately to draw attention, Bella puffed herself up.

“As it happens, I received a special invitation from the Marchioness Matwood’s daughter last evening. We dined together and spoke at length.”

“And? What did she say?”

“She said that the mistress and His Grace were… together in the office!”

“What?”

“In broad daylight, no less.”

“Oh my…”

Bella scanned their stunned faces, clearly relishing the moment.

“What’s more shocking is that they did it right in front of the Marchioness Matwood’s daughter.”

“…She must be mad.”

Bella lifted her chin proudly and suddenly glanced up at the balcony. Sveta disappeared from view at once.

Her heart pounded against her ribs.

How had the rumor spread so quickly?

She had never imagined it would spread at all.

The words were cruel, but the truth woven into them made the humiliation cut even deeper.

Shame burned in her throat. Sliding down to the floor, Sveta pressed a hand over her mouth and tried to calm her breathing.

“To think His Grace would be dragged into something so disgraceful.”

“It’s that mistress’s fault—turning the office into a brothel.”

The deliberate emphasis in her tone suggested she wanted the servants to hear.

“A brothel? Lady Grayton, that word is rather vulgar. You should refrain.”

“Oh? Is it?”

Their shrill laughter sliced at Sveta’s ears. She pressed her cheek against her knees.

Then an even crueler question pierced the air.

“But how did the Marchioness Matwood’s daughter end up seeing it?”

“They say His Grace provoked her.”

‘…He provoked her?’

Sveta stared blankly at the railing.

Had she heard correctly?

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

“The Marchioness Matwood’s daughter invited the mistress on a boating excursion, but His Grace refused the invitation, saying the mistress was ‘busy.’ And then he summoned her straight to the office.”

Gasps of shock erupted here and there.

“How could he…? And then?”

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? What else could ‘busy’ possibly mean?”

“No one would sit still after hearing that. I would have rushed over immediately.”

“Oh, that poor Marchioness Matwood’s daughter! We ought to send her a letter of consolation.”

“Shall we? Once we finish here, let’s all write to her together.”

“Good idea!”

Their mood quickly lifted, and they resumed clearing the garden with renewed energy.

Before long, the garden was clear.

Sveta stared at it blankly.

The sharp words they had left behind hit her again and again, mingling with the distant sound of waves crashing.

***

Sveta spent the night lying awake.

The steady rhythm of Aiden’s breathing warmed the nape of her neck. In the pale light of dawn, she traced the arm draped around her and lost herself in thought.

The cruel words she had overheard earlier kept playing over and over in her mind.

“A lowly mistress who turned the office into a brothel.”

She could deny it. She could pretend to forget.

But she couldn’t.

Perhaps it was because, in a way, they were right.

After all, she had slept with him in his office.

Was the Marchioness, Matwood’s daughter, really in the wrong for being angry? Were the other women’s whispers not inevitable?

Sveta did not want to blame them.

It was her fault.

‘Should I have refused him?’

If she had asked him, would he have granted her permission to go out?

She could not be sure.

This meant that, even if she went back to that moment, things might not turn out differently.

Brothel. Mistress.

The vulgar words rolled back into her mind, striking heavily against her chest. Emotion surged upwards, tightening her throat.

Her eyes burned.

At the slightest movement, the arm around her tightened like a vine.

“…Sveta. Are you cold?”

She didn’t answer.

He was a light sleeper.

Then again, maybe he had never actually fallen asleep.

She could not know.

Deliberately, she exhaled slowly.

“To feel cold in the middle of summer…”

Murmuring softly, as though certain that she was asleep, Aiden pulled the thin blanket up to her neck.

His large hand, which had lingered on her chest, now settled around her waist.

It made her uneasy.

She had to fight the urge to twist away from him.

Before long, the low, rough rhythm of his breathing returned.

Sveta bit down on her lip.

She had once wondered what he truly felt for her.

Love? Or possessiveness? Or simply desire?

Now, it no longer mattered.

She didn’t want to know.

.***

Time passed quietly and unnoticed, like the wind.

Half a month later, Sveta returned to the ducal residence in Renan.

Throughout the journey, she stayed close to Aiden but kept her distance, watching him carefully.

She did not want to risk losing the permission to go out that he had finally granted her.

Even inside the carriage, he was absorbed in work, reviewing documents and occasionally lifting his shadowed gaze to the window.

Nothing changed upon their arrival.

Aiden went straight to his office.

“You must be tired. Rest today. Do nothing.”

He left the gentle words behind.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

She nodded obediently and returned to her room alone.

It was still morning.

There was no chance she would sleep.

With nothing to keep her occupied, she slowly looked around the room.

Had she grown accustomed to the salty scent of the summer sea? The faint fragrance of the fresh flowers in the room felt strangely foreign.

She walked over to the window and opened it.

“That’s strange. Why won’t it open?”

Struggling with the half-open frame, she noticed something had been fixed in place midway.

She had never opened the window herself before and had not realized this measure had been taken.

“It used to open all the way.”

She murmured quietly, considering the reason.

‘Is it to keep me from escaping through the window? Or to prevent someone from coming in?’

Is it confinement—

—or protection?

Sveta did not struggle to understand Aiden’s intention.

It was confinement.

“…Ha.”

The overly spacious bedchamber suddenly felt suffocating.

“You said you wouldn’t lock me away.”

The deception she had uncovered left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Without hesitating for a moment, she flung open the door and ran.

She hurried down the golden-carpeted corridor. But once outside, she realized that there were few places where she could truly escape.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Sveta turned towards the stables.

Passing through the garden, with its endless rows of pink roses spread across the landscape like embroidery, she made her way to the artificial lake.

No —

Calling it that felt wrong.

What greeted her was nothing like she had expected.

Sveta came to an abrupt stop.

She blinked, dazed.

“What on earth…?”