It was both a warning and a kind of concern.

A message from Siliar Vandyk to Martiana Vandyk.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say it was spoken not as a husband, but as an investigator.

Even he admitted that his tone was harsher than usual. But for Silia, that was the best he could manage.

“What do you mean? Don’t wander around? Why are you speaking to me like that?”

“It’s dangerous.”

He answered without lifting his eyes from the report he had just written.

“The culprit hasn’t been caught yet. Do you really want to walk around alone? What if it happens again?”

“That’s why my brother arranged for guards—”

“Even with guards, it doesn’t mean you’re completely safe.”

Siliar pressed a hand to his forehead in irritation as he spoke. The slight rise in his voice revealed how frayed his nerves had become.

He knew it himself.

From a certain angle, his demands must have sounded unreasonable.

The holy knight assigned by Lawrence was undoubtedly skilled. A man who cherished his sister would never fail to protect her.

Martiana was an adult, too. She had every right to go wherever she pleased.

He knew that.

And yet, Siliar could not accept it.

This wasn’t just possessiveness towards his wife. Nor was it a petty sense of ownership.

It was simply—

“I’m anxious.”

His fear.

It was an emotion that had been building up for a long time, finally surfacing now.

How could he explain it?

As he traced it back, he realized that the sensation was older than he had thought.

Did it begin shortly after he took charge of the constabulary? Or perhaps just before his marriage?

There had always been something gnawing at him.

[ Siliar Vandyk. I will k*ll you. ]

Threats. Warnings.

They most often came from criminals who did not want to be caught or from people who bore a grudge.

Such matters never left the confines of the police force.

Such occurrences were a constant feature of their work.

It wasn’t just letters. Street ambushes were common, too.

Siliar himself had experienced them repeatedly.

“Die!”

More than one person had rushed at him, shouting those words.

Once or twice a month. At its worst, it was almost once a week.

Yet Siliar had never spoken to anyone about it.

He had never mentioned the threats.

There was no benefit in letting it be known that the head of the constabulary was under constant threat. The constabulary’s authority within the kingdom had to remain unshaken.

They were an organization that never succumbed to crime. Men who always prevailed.

That was the Constabulary of the Kingdom of Aetium.

To be honest, part of it was confidence. Siliar believed he could handle anyone who came at him. Anywhere, at any time, he would win.

The problem was—

[ I will k*ll your fiancée. ]

When the target was not himself.

At some point, the threats shifted towards his loved ones.

His mother. His siblings. His friends.

Most frequently of all, the woman he loved.

Martiana.

“Lately… I feel like someone’s been following me.”

She had mentioned it once, almost in passing. It must have been before they got married. They were out together when she glanced around and mentioned it.

He remembered reassuring her at the time.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Afterwards, he increased the number of people stationed around her.

Before their marriage, he arranged for constabulary patrols to be stationed near the Kisca estate. After the wedding, he positioned the ducal guards around the grounds.

If the threats had really been that severe, he should have warned her before the wedding.

He should have warned her that being tied to the constabulary posed dangers that an ordinary person did not face.

For your safety, perhaps we should stop here.

But he did not.

He could not.

It was selfish, but he could not bear to lose Martiana.

He could not live without her.

With his career flourishing at the time, he was certain that he could protect the one he loved, no matter what happened.

“Siliar! Licorice—!”

That was until the day their daughter was taken.

Only then did Siliar realize how careless he had been. He had been arrogant. He had unquestioningly believed that he could protect his family.

He had forgotten that predators always look for the weakest link.

He had assumed that everyone could fight like he could.

“I’ll bring her back.”

He had sworn it in front of a weeping Martiana.

To be honest, he thought he would catch the culprit quickly. He had already drawn up a list of suspects: Those who had targeted him. Those who bore him resentment. They all rose to the top.

Who else could it be?

Everyone knew that abducting his daughter would be the most effective way to reach him.

“It wasn’t me! I swear it wasn’t!”

They all denied it one by one.

And one by one, they turned out to be insignificant.

Most were petty men nursing grudges because a relative had been arrested or because they thought the punishment was too severe.

Licorice was never among them.

Eventually, the case faded into obscurity.

No one could possibly understand how devastating that had been.

No one could know how completely he had fallen apart.

Or how, each time he came home and saw Martiana running towards him, he felt an even greater sense of guilt.

And that was why—even now—

These were the only words he could bring himself to say to her.

“Don’t come to the constabulary like this again. If you need something, send a servant.”

There was no way of knowing who might be watching. Even if there hadn’t been any danger before, how could they be sure that someone new hadn’t started harboring ill intent?

Martiana’s serious injury was proof enough of that.

That was what the constabulary was for.

Being the family of an officer meant never truly being safe.

Never truly safe. Always one step away from danger.

There was no guarantee that what had happened to Licorice would not happen to Martiana, too.

And so—

“If possible, come back home.”

Siliar found himself repeating the same words.

“Stay at the estate. Don’t go elsewhere.”

As far as he knew, the safest place in the kingdom was the Vandyks’ ducal residence.

This was precisely why he had always wanted Martiana to stay at the estate.

Not only was her health fragile, he also wanted her to recover in safety.

‘If something like what happened to Licorice were to happen to you, I would never forgive myself.’

And there it is again.

It seemed she would refuse him this time as well.

He did not need to hear more. Her rigid tone and expression said enough.

“……”

Siliar exhaled slowly and lowered his gaze.

He felt a dull weight pressing against his chest. He didn’t know what to do.

If he explained everything, he would have to reveal the internal affairs of the constabulary. Yet he did not want to frighten her by openly discussing the threats.

If things continued as they were, the subject of divorce would come up again, and that was something he could not bear.

“I’ll go back. Home.”

“…What?”

Siliar’s head snapped up.

Disbelief flickered across his eyes.

Just days earlier, she had said that she didn’t want to come back. He had assumed that she would refuse again.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. I’ll return. To the Vandyk estate.”

Martiana met his gaze directly as she answered.

***

Her heart pounded.

On the surface, it was just a simple sentence, but it had taken a lot of courage to say it.

Taking back one’s own words was no easy thing.

Seeing the clear relief on Siliar’s face, Martiana clenched her hands together.

She had been wondering how to bring up the matter of returning home. Fortunately, he had spoken first.

‘Now, the next part.’

There was something else she wanted to say.

Although she had told no one, this was her true motive.

Martiana had come to the constabulary for two reasons from the outset.

The first was to file a report that might help catch Drisena. That had already been done. Now, she could only hope that the constabulary would pursue the lead diligently.

The second reason had only just begun — her declaration that she would return to the ducal estate.

It was time to revisit that.

“Are you serious? You’re truly coming back home? When? Today? Tomorrow?”

Siliar asked like a child who had just been granted his dearest wish.

“Even today is fine.”

Martiana nodded.

By now, her husband had already risen from his seat and leaned heavily across the desk toward her.

The large desk creaked under the sudden shift of weight.

“I’ll send word immediately. Shall I have a banquet prepared for dinner? Is there anything you’d like to eat?”

“No. Please don’t.”

“Why not? If you’re returning, we should welcome you.”

“Siliar. I’m not returning completely.”

She held his gaze steadily.

“I intend to take a divorce reconsideration period.”