In the intense midsummer sunlight, silver coins glinted.

Her pockets were deliberately stuffed full of coins of small denomination. The metal flashed again, catching and reflecting the light.

“Look over there.”

Curious gazes poured toward her.

“Baroness Luce’s daughter.”

Alyona’s voice, as she called out to Sveta, carried undisguised delight.

“What is it?”

“There are a few more pockets……”

The moment Alyona nodded to a servant, a man appeared from behind, pulling a cart loaded with bulging sacks.

Sveta’s face drained of color for a moment. Alyona sneered faintly at the sight. Then, unfolding her fan to hide the curve of her lips, she spoke with exaggerated benevolence.

“Just take one. You can have a servant carry the rest.”

The shrill lilt of her voice grated.

“……”

Those four pairs of glittering eyes fixed on her, stirring something deep within. Defiance surged.

Even if my wrist breaks, I will carry it.

‘Even if I collapse, I’ll collapse only after I leave this garden.’

With that firm resolve, Sveta lifted her chin slightly and smiled with gentle composure.

“Thank you, Lady Marchioness Matwood. I’ll be sure to convey your kindness to my mother. She will be delighted—and that will be my joy as well.”

Alyona’s eyes twisted violently.

The moment she saw it, Sveta felt an inexplicable surge of strength.

She clenched the pouch tightly.

It was heavy. But during her time as a slave, she had carried things far heavier than this. She knew the trick of it.

Hoisting one side of the pouch with all her might, she rested it briefly against the top of her foot. Then, dragging it over her bent knee, she pulled it into her arms.

Sveta hugged the stone-like sack of coins tightly to her chest.

‘This much is nothing.’

Quietly steadying herself, she turned away.

***

As soon as she stepped out of the garden, Sveta turned to face the servant who was following her. He was still holding the handles of the cart, which was piled high with money pouches.

“Where is the annex?”

“Do you see the building to the right over there? That one.”

The place the servant indicated was not far.

“I have one favor to ask.”

“Yes, please tell me.”

“I’d like this pouch loaded onto the carriage of the House of Strilland as well.”

“Of course. I will see to it.”

The servant picked up the pouch that had been placed on the cart. After offering a respectful bow, he left at once.

With the heavy burden lifted from her arms, her body felt astonishingly light. Just as Sveta turned towards the annexe with a renewed sense of clarity—

“Wait.”

A voice as sharp as fingernails scraping against metal seized her on the spot.

Alyona approached in hurried steps. When she stopped, the excess fabric of her ornate dress rippled across the ground.

“Do you have something more to say, Lady Marchioness Matwood?”

“It seems you’ve taken less than you should have.”

“…Pardon?”

Alyona suddenly opened her clenched fist. Three gold coins lay gleaming in her palm, flashing spitefully.

They fell to the ground with a louder clatter than her voice could ever make.

“Take the rest.”

“……”

Without a word, Sveta bent down and maintained an impassive expression.

First, she picked up the coin that had rolled further back, then the one beside it.

Just as she reached out for the last coin, which was lying near the tip of Alyona’s shoe, the faintly sour smile on Alyona’s face grew wider. She stepped forward.

The coin near her foot naturally disappeared beneath the voluminous hem of her dress.

“Oh dear. What should we do?”

“……”

“It seems it slipped between my legs.”

“…If you would step back, Lady Marchioness Matwood, that would solve the matter.”

Alyona lowered her thin brows and shook her head.

“Why? Does it displease you that what you want is between my legs?”

“What are you—saying?”

A sudden realization struck her. This was retaliation—for what had happened in Czernok’s office.

Sveta’s wide eyes trembled faintly.

“I saw you pulling my man between your thighs. Clinging to him like some beast—it was quite the spectacle.”

“……”

The words branding her a ‘filthy mistress’ were just that — mere words. And yet they hurt enough to make Sveta lower her head.

Seeing that her threat had had the desired effect, Alyona continued in a forceful tone.

“Let me offer you one piece of advice. Manage yourself well.”

“…What do you mean?”

Her voice wavered helplessly as she asked.

“The moment you conceive, each and every day will become a living hell.”

“……”

“And that won’t be the end of it. Once you give birth, you’ll learn there are places far worse than hell.”

A dry, rasping sound seemed to tear something beside her ear.

Perhaps it was her withered soul being ripped to shreds.

Without realizing it, Sveta took a step back.

Alyona advanced, digging the sharp heel of her shoe into the ground with each step.

“If you bear a child. And if that child is a son… yes. I’ll let him live until he turns ten. He should at least see the hunting festival once.”

‘If you bear a child.’

A possibility she had imagined dozens—no, hundreds—of times rose up unbidden.

‘If Berry had not died. If he had survived.’

A child with golden hair like Aiden’s and deep red lips.

‘Ah, my child. My family…’

The image unfolded vividly before her eyes.

The tiny infant, once swaddled in golden cloth and sleeping peacefully, was now toddling around. Then he ran towards her with his arms wide open and threw himself into her embrace.

The child who had once puckered his lips to make soft babbling sounds was now dashing boldly across the garden.

In her mind, he grew.

Beneath the bright yellow sunlight, he played, and then suddenly turned to look at her.

Berry smiled.

His golden hair, damp with sweat, shimmered in the light.

Every moment felt achingly real, as though she had truly experienced it.

Why were all her fantasies coming to the fore now, of all times?

Why now?

A painful warmth gathered in Sveta’s eyes, blurring her vision with sorrow.

“On the day of the hunting festival, he’ll be struck by an arrow that comes out of nowhere—and he’ll die.”

The voice that pierced her weakest place held not a shred of mercy.

“Stop… please stop, Lady Marchioess Matwood.”

As Sveta retreated, she found herself backed into a hard pillar. The colonnade leading to the annexe blocked her way.

Alyona stepped forward, towering over her.

The sharp scent of perfume wafted down from her stiffly raised neck. It cut through Sveta’s fragile nerves as though tearing them apart.

“If you bear a daughter, she’ll die one day with her neck broken. Someone will push her down the stairs. So…”

In her imagination, the child was struck by an arrow. Her neck snapped. She died.

It was too cruel.

Sveta shook her head faintly.

“Please. Stop.”

“So, Baroness Luce’s daughter. Before an innocent life is lost, take good care of that pretty body of yours.”

“……”

“Whether it’s medicine or something else.”

Alyona lightly dragged the folded tip of her fan along Sveta’s cheek.

Sveta kept her eyes lowered, helplessly watching the pale pink bead hanging from the fan swaying back and forth.

So this was what it all came down to.

Even if Aiden had wanted a child, this was the only ending that awaited her.

The gold coin she was clenching tightly in her palm felt like shards of broken glass biting into her skin.

Alyona’s gaze dropped briefly to Sveta’s trembling fist.

Then, without another word, she took several steps back.

“Now that I think of it, the amount I gave you at first was correct, Baroness Luce’s daughter.”

“……”

“These two coins should cover the cost of your errand. Perhaps that’s excessive compensation for a mere messenger. But then again, this is hardly the only thing you enjoy that is beyond your station.”

Whispering like a malicious spirit, Alyona turned and swept away, her voluminous skirts fluttering as she went.

***

“I can provide the information the young count desires.”

Her voice was firm, each syllable pronounced with deliberate boldness.

Henrik studied Sveta, seated opposite him.

Her expression was stiffer than he had ever seen before. Her cheeks and the corners of her eyes were flushed deep pink.

When their gazes met, he spoke.

“You seem to know what information I’m seeking.”

“The secret study of Baron Luce. The ledger inside containing proof of human trafficking. Am I wrong?”

What on earth had happened to her?

Her clear, sky-blue eyes gleamed sharply.

The look was so reminiscent of her father-in-law’s stern gaze that Henrik swallowed dryly.

“How did you find out?”

“There were others searching for it besides Young Count Mariner.”

“Hmm. Accomplices trying to bury the incident, I presume. Baron Luce’s half-brother—Baron Norian. Am I correct?”

“You are, Young Count Mariner. And you tested me because you suspected I might be close to that accomplice.”

Instead of answering, Henrik gave a small nod.

That was answer enough.

“…How do you enter it? The secret study?”

“Before that, you must promise to help me as well, Young Count.”

“Ha…”

Henrik let out a short laugh.

Sveta’s gaze deepened as she faced him. There wasn’t a hint of a smile on her face.

‘Something is different…’

She had a determined air about her today. This was evident in the way she lightly bit her full lower lip and held her large eyes wide open.

Henrik’s laughter faded.

“Did I tell you before? I rather like the way you calculate matters. Of course, I will help. What is it you need?”

At that moment, a subtle light flickered in Sveta’s eyes.

“I… am going to leave the duke.”

So the rumor that the duke’s mistress had fled was true.

‘He looked as though he doted on her desperately. What circumstances lie beneath this…?’

Henrik’s brows drew together in concern.

“Is that even possible? You saw the coffee house. It was only because one of the servers working there is acquainted with me that I barely managed to pass along a message.”

“It must be made possible. What you need to do will not be much, Viscount.”

“……”

She lifted her chin slightly. The delicate curve of her reddened eyes deepened in color. It looked dangerously close to breaking.

“Very well. If we obtain the secret ledger, I too can escape this wretched marchioness’s estate and return to my family. I will help you.”

“Thank you, Viscount.”

A faint, threadlike smile spread across her face, as though something inside her might shatter at any moment.

Henrik asked gently.

“How would you like me to assist you?”

“For now… you must lend me a set of clothes.”