Everything begins and ends with money.

Since its invention, everyone has heard the phrase ‘money is the root of all evil’.

Some people k*ll for it. Others betray their friends and family for it.

Drisena was no different. It didn’t matter that she had been born into nobility or that she already had more than enough money to live comfortably.

She loved money more than anything. With it, she could indulge in whatever she desired. That was all that mattered.

Even if it revealed an ugly side of her. Even if it meant hurting her own child. Guilt was a feeling reserved for amateurs.

And so, this time as well, she acted without hesitation.

Two weeks earlier, a letter had arrived from her second daughter-in-law, Ramelata.

“What’s this now?”

The letter was completely unexpected. Ramelata didn’t write often. At best, she wrote once every six months.

Aside from the occasional formal exchange of pleasantries, she rarely got in touch.

And yet, suddenly, there was a letter.

“How peculiar.”

Drisena narrowed her eyes as she turned the envelope over in her hands.

She knew the sender, after all. And yet, there was something unpleasant about it. Opening it would undoubtedly lead to trouble.

It would not have been the first time. In the past, she had received a private request and been forced to comply with something unreasonable.

“What is she up to now?”

Murmuring to herself, Drisena slit open the envelope with a letter knife.

Most women would have been delighted to receive a letter from their daughter-in-law. Drisena was not one of them.

When she married off her sons, she could never have imagined things turning out this way.

“I truly have no luck.”

She may have had everything else, but she clearly lacked good fortune in the form of daughters-in-law. She had opposed the first marriage from the outset. Needless to say, she had never liked her.

The second seemed an excellent match at first. But later came disappointment.

“I thought she would be gentle, just as she looks.”

She was nothing like that. On the outside, she appeared as harmless as a rabbit. But beneath that gentle exterior, she was not a fox—she was a hyena.

There had been moments when even Drisena herself had shuddered at her. And that said more than enough.

“So what is it this time?”

Drisena narrowed her eyes as she opened the envelope.

‘Let’s see… One sheet. Two. Three.’

At first glance, it seemed as though she had written quite a lot, but that was not the case. They were little more than short notes. The contents were much the same.

[In two weeks, I will be visiting the capital with my child. I intend to stay at the estate, so please ensure that I do not cross paths with Martiana.]

“That’s all?”

Drisena frowned as she read the first slip of paper.

Two sentences. That was it. Not even the courtesy of a greeting.

And this request—

“Martiana barely leaves her room as it is.”

“If that’s too much trouble, why did you come here in the first place?”

Drisena’s expression hardened with displeasure. In truth, she knew perfectly well what lay beneath those words.

It was about more than just avoiding a meeting. It meant removing Martiana from her life entirely.

“She made a fuss about getting rid of Martiana before, too.”

Hadn’t she cut off her allowance when that failed?

‘Ah. I knew it would come to this. I knew it would cause trouble.’

Drisena toyed with a strand of her deep crimson hair and bit her lip. Her red lipstick smeared faintly against her teeth.

“Should I just ignore it? Let her come or not—if I pretend I don’t know, what can she do? Better that than giving myself a headache.”

She pursed her lips, trying to excise the irritation. Then she unfolded the next sheet.

“Hmm.”

She retracted her earlier mutterings the moment she saw it.

There was no need for deliberation. It would be wiser to grant her second daughter-in-law’s wish.

A divorce would be impossible — Siliar would never agree to it.

“But having her stay elsewhere for a while would be fine, wouldn’t it?”

Ideally, Martiana should be out of sight during Ramelata’s visit. Even better, she could try to obtain a signature for a divorce.

That might work. If Martiana saw that Siliar had signed the divorce papers himself, perhaps she would change her mind. It would be irrefutable proof that he wanted the divorce.

“Siliar barely returns home anyway. There’s little chance of being discovered.”

Even if he discovered it, it would only be after everything had already been settled. And if luck was on her side and the divorce was approved, that would be even better.

Drisena calculated swiftly and curled her lips into a smile. However it turned out, she would not be the one to lose out.

The greatest profit lay in the document she had just seen, of course.

The number written on it.

“One, ten, a hundred, a thousand… hmm…”

There were two cheques, each of which was large enough to purchase a house outright.

After confirming the amounts, Drisena decided to discard Martiana without hesitation.

She felt no guilt. No remorse.

If she were capable of such emotions, she would have felt them long ago—for instance, five years earlier, when she first began her secret dealings with her second daughter-in-law.

***

At the same time, in the provincial estate of the Count of Pumillum, two people were engaged in a conversation about the very same matter. They were Pameli—the second son of Count Drisena of Pumillum—and his wife, Ramelata.

“You’re going to the capital?”

That day, Pameli could not hide his surprise at his wife’s sudden request. It was only natural. The thought had never once crossed his mind—and for five long years, she had never stepped beyond the boundaries of the estate.

She rarely even visited a nearby friend, nor had she often gone to see her own family. And now that same woman intended to travel far away? Of course he would be startled.

Especially when the reason was—

“Is Alex’s condition that serious?”

If it concerned the son born between them, it troubled him all the more.

Pameli let out a quiet sigh as he looked at the child playing in the distance. A beloved son who had inherited his ash-brown hair and red eyes exactly.

He wished the boy would grow up strong. But contrary to that hope, their son was frail. The infection he had suffered immediately after birth was the cause.

Though he had miraculously survived, since then he had been prone to even the slightest illness. In an entire year, the days he spent out of bed could be counted on one hand. And because of that, his mother had remained constantly at his side. That had been their life for five years.

“It’s too far. Will Alex really be all right?”

“I know,” Ramelata replied, her voice breaking as tears gathered in her eyes. “But they say this illness can’t be treated here.”

She let out a hollow breath. Her cotton-candy pink hair fell forward with the motion of her bowed head.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m just worried.”

“Our physician will come with us, Pameli, I truly want to cure Alex.”

With tears streaming down her face, Ramelata clasped her husband’s hand. She looked so desperate that Pamela nodded hurriedly.

“All right. I understand, so please stop crying. I’ll come as soon as I’ve finished work.”

“Thank you! Truly, thank you!”

“No, I should be thanking you for everything you’ve done.”

Only then did Pameli pull Ramelata—now smiling brightly—into his arms. They looked every bit the devoted couple.

That is, if you didn’t notice how her smile vanished the moment she was hidden in her husband’s embrace.

Perhaps only Pameli failed to see that expression. Ramelata never bothered to hide it from others.

Especially—

“Prepare for the trip to the capital.”

—to the physician in charge of their son. Though perhaps the darkness of his appearance made such an expression seem natural.

“At last, you are departing.”

He was shrouded from head to toe in an unsettling cloak that hid even his face. It had always been the same for five long years.

“Yes, I did as you said. Once we reach the capital, you will “save” my son, no matter what it takes.”

Ramelata’s eyes sharpened with a ferocity that no one else was meant to witness as she looked the physician over. He merely inclined his head slowly.

“Of course. However, you must prepare the materials, madam.”

“I know. The blood and hair of a sacred family.”

“If they are bound by blood, all the better.”

“I know. How many times have I told you?”

Ramelata bit down on her lip. The plan had been set in motion the moment she had contacted Drisena.

It was flawless — so perfect that nothing could possibly go wrong. She arranged for someone to k*ll Martiana the moment Drisena threw her out of the estate.

On that same day, Ramelata herself would enter the capital. The materials would be secured quickly — freshness was the main priority.

Then my child would recover more quickly.

Ramelata did not doubt this outcome for a single moment.

And yet—

“What?”

The plan had unraveled.

“Didn’t you say she was dead?”

When they went to confirm the body, they found none.

They had failed to k*ll Martiana.

The woman who was supposed to save her son was still alive and out there somewhere.