“Martiana Vandyk. She is my wife.”

The interrogation room fell silent as the low voice settled over it.

The only subsequent sounds were the soft click of the door closing, measured footsteps approaching, and a startled scraping of a chair as the constable jumped to his feet.

“T-Your Excellency!”

“What were you doing?”

“S-She said she wished to file a report, so I was just about to begin.”

“Step outside. I’ll take over from here.”

As if out of habit, Siliar lightly tugged at one of the buttons on his shirt and tilted his chin.

Without hesitating, he sat down in the chair that the constable had just vacated.

The officer had hurried out of the interrogation room as soon as the order was given.

“And you—aren’t you leaving as well?”

Glancing over the paper spread across the desk, Siliar spoke without truly reading it. The words were directed past Martiana—toward the person standing behind her.

More precisely, toward Melissa.

“I received orders from Sir Lawrence to guard the Duchess.”

“One can tell you’re a holy knight just by the uniform. Even so, step outside. It’s protocol—only the involved party remains.”

Leaning back in his chair and folding his arms, Siliar indicated that he had finished speaking. He moved only his eyes, a gesture bordering on arrogance.

Then again, it could simply have been the composure that comes with experience. Having commanded the constabulary for years, issuing orders came naturally to him.

The fact that Melissa, who had been about to argue, ultimately relented proved it.

“Understood. I will wait outside, my lady.”

“Very well.”

Martiana nodded towards Melissa as she left. Having remained silent until now, she was relieved that the situation might finally be resolved.

She had no desire to prolong a needless clash of wills.

Having come to the constabulary of her own accord, it would achieve nothing to oppose its head.

“Is that satisfactory?”

She glanced at the firmly shut door as she spoke.

Now, in this small interrogation room, she and her husband were the only people left.

Although her tone was steady, the awkwardness was palpable.

It had only been a few days since they had last seen each other. Perhaps it was because they had parted on bad terms, or because this was the first time they had come face to face as investigator and complainant.

‘This is uncomfortable.’

Martiana fidgeted with her fingers.

To be honest, she hadn’t expected to see her husband here.

He would certainly have been informed that she had arrived. She was his wife, after all. But she hadn’t imagined that he would come down in person.

Exactly because—

“Aren’t you busy?”

That had always been the case.

Even before he lost Licorice, cases kept pouring in, often preventing him from being at home.

There were even times when he failed to celebrate family anniversaries as a result.

Knowing this, Martiana did not come all the way to the constabulary to seek out her husband.

Even after meeting the deputy commander at the entrance, she merely said she had business to attend to.

She assumed she could file a report on her own.

And she could have.

If she was to stand on her own two feet from now on, there would be many things she would have to do by herself.

Unfortunately—

“I’m busy. Even so, I’ll handle it.”

It seemed Siliar had no intention of allowing her to do so alone.

“So. What is it you intend to report?”

He unfolded the statement that the constable had started to write and looked at her.

The pen in his hand moved swiftly across the blank page.

Name: Gender: Age.

Although Martiana had not spoken, the details of the complainant filled the paper with practiced ease.

All except for the final line — the report’s contents.

“Does this have something to do with Mother?”

His hand paused in mid-air as he glanced at her sideways. Judging by the circumstances so far, that seemed to be his only conclusion.

After all, the most recent matter involving Martiana had been the forged divorce papers.

Admittedly, for Martiana, it did involve the same person.

“Why? Would you prefer that I reported your mother?”

Against her will, her tone sharpened. Whenever the divorce papers were mentioned, she could not help but remember how he had doubted her the last time they came up in conversation.

For a moment, she wondered if he would blame her again.

“Do as you wish. It is true that Mother was at fault.”

His answer was unexpected.

“…What?”

“I listened to you. I looked into it. It was Mother who did it. I’m sorry for misunderstanding you.”

As he spoke, Siliar idly traced lines on the paper with his pen. The way he kept his gaze lowered, and the slight movement of his fingers brushing his brow, both betrayed his state of mind.

Martiana was no different.

She blinked repeatedly, too stunned to do anything else.

“I’m sorry…”

She had never imagined that she would hear her husband apologize.

And certainly not so soon.

Of course, Siliar was a man who could admit when he was wrong. She knew that well enough. The apologies he had given her in the past proved it, although most of them were related to his failure to find Licorice.

As for other matters… yes. There had been very few of those.

Before they lost their daughter, he had been a good husband.

Afterwards, however, he had simply been too consumed by the turmoil in their household to face Martiana properly.

“It’s all right. Please don’t.”

Martiana shook her head quietly.

Although she welcomed the apology, she felt uneasy about accepting it.

After all, even though Drisena had forged the documents, it was Martiana who had signed them.

If she had truly wanted to avoid divorce, she should have persevered. Ultimately, she herself had chosen to end the relationship.

There was no need for further apologies.

Especially since she had come to speak about another matter involving Drisena.

“Let’s just proceed. I don’t wish to remain here long.”

“…Very well.”

Silar let out a shallow breath as he watched her avoid his gaze.

He nodded and adjusted his grip on the pen.

“Tell me. What happened?”

“Someone tried to k*ll me.”

Martiana replied without hesitation.

In that instant, the pen in Siliar’s hand broke in two.

***

Snap.

Perhaps this was what it felt like when reason fractured.

At least, that’s how it seemed to Siliar.

From the moment Martiana began speaking until she had finished, his mind felt shrouded in fog.

“So.”

Someone had tried to k*ll his wife.

“That bastard—… no. That man.”

On the day Martiana left the House of Vandyk—

“You were carrying one of our family heirlooms?”

Because of that, she almost died.

She had only just managed to reach the forest shrine, where she encountered Lawrence.

Up to that point, Siliar had been grinding his teeth in silence.

It was a miracle that he had lasted this long.

The only reason he had remained composed was because he was sitting there as an investigator. Had he not been one, he did not know what he might have done. He might have demanded answers from Martiana at once or overturned the entire constabulary in his fury.

Who dared?

Who dared to lay a hand on her?

How audacious must that man have been to dare touch her?

“What did he look like?”

Silar stared down at the densely written report.

The circumstances and outcome of the incident had been recorded in great detail. The only thing missing was a description of the suspect.

“He was tall. His face was covered, so I couldn’t see clearly.”

“Anything will do. Tell me whatever you remember.”

‘So I can k*ll him.’

He swallowed the rest of the words.

It was the perfect way to reveal his state of mind, but he couldn’t afford to speak so roughly in front of Martiana.

He was barely holding onto his sanity as it was. If he lost control, he would only frighten her.

“Hair. Eyes. Even the smallest detail.”

“His eyes were blue. Other than that… If I heard his voice again, I think I would recognize it.”

“That’s enough. Stop. It’s sufficient.”

Siliar raised a hand, stopping her mid-sentence.

There wasn’t enough information yet, so it was better to leave it at that for now.

He noticed that Martiana’s hands were trembling slightly beneath the desk.

Yes, she must be the one hurting the most.

Even if she had come here of her own accord, reliving that moment could not have been easy.

He tightened his grip around the broken pen and glanced at his wife.

Now would be the perfect time to offer her some gentle reassurance.

But in a marriage already out of alignment, even something that simple felt complicated.

It hadn’t always been like this.

Perhaps time truly does change people.

So what could he possibly say?

For a man as unfamiliar with tenderness as Siliar, the only words he could manage were—

“You.”

“…?”

“Don’t go wandering around carelessly.”

That was all he could say.