“Divorce?”

At the absurd word, Siliar’s eyebrows knitted together.

He had heard the butler, but he could not process what he had said. It was as though his thoughts refused to focus on it. If it had been anything else, he might have understood. But this? Divorce?

“Me?”

And last week, at that? How? He had been in the provinces until just now—only arriving in the capital.

“What are you talking about? I never gave my consent. Boridge, do you not understand what a divorce means?”

Siliar’s expression darkened, making it clear that he was offended by what he saw as a tasteless joke. Only his many years of working with this butler stopped him from reacting more harshly.

Had it been anyone else, he would have grabbed them by the collar and told them to stop their nonsense — or done something worse. Perhaps he should not have ignored such talk in the past. Now, the rumors had taken hold. Why did people insist on meddling in matters that did not concern them?

Siliar clicked his tongue in irritation.

“Did you hear some ridiculous rumor? Enough of this foolishness. Put everything back where it belongs.”

Looking around more carefully, he realized that it was not only the portrait that had been taken down. Other belongings had been removed and left scattered around, too. The sight scraped painfully against his patience.

Carrying out something like this without consulting him, the head of the household, showed a blatant disregard for ducal authority.

‘No wonder she closed the curtains.’

Finally, he thought he understood why Martiana had shut herself away. He didn’t need Drisena to tell him.

She must have been hurt. Despite having cut herself off from the outside world, she could not have been unaware of this.

“Well? Why are you standing there? Restore everything at once.”

“But—”

“Finish it before Martiana sees.”

“Please wait, my lord. Her Ladyship disposed of these herself when she left the estate.”

“…What?”

Siliar stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of giving a command.

Once again, he could not quite grasp what had just been said.

Who left? Disposed of what?

Come to think of it, hadn’t he heard something similar earlier? No — hadn’t he heard the exact same words?

“Martiana…”

Left. She had left. Thrown everything away. That portrait. Countless belongings. And—

“Me.”

A chill shot down his spine.

His wife had left him. The realization drained all the color from his face.

In truth, he should have realized it sooner. The butler had been saying the same thing all along. It was Siliar who had refused to listen.

No—wait. Before anything else—

“Then Martiana isn’t here?”

That was the most important thing. He had to confirm that first. Divorce or not, second-hand information was meaningless.

He needed to see it with his own eyes. Only then could he think clearly. Only then could he decide what to do.

Above all—

‘She left me?’

Martiana?

That alone was unbelievable. It couldn’t be true. They had sworn before God to stay together until death parted them.

And of all people, she — a daughter of the House of Kisca — could not possibly be unaware of the significance of such an oath.

Even putting the oath aside, how could she…?

‘Divorce?’

On whose authority? Divorce required the consent of both parties. How could it have happened without him?

‘I never agreed. So how?’

Siliar strode forward roughly. As he made his way to the room where Martiana had been staying, he repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fists, feeling extremely anxious.

He was extremely anxious.

The closer he got, the worse it became.

He didn’t care about his dignity or his position as head of the household. There was no room for pride now.

In the past, he would at least have sensed her presence before reaching the door. But now — nothing.

“No.”

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

Siliar carefully grasped the doorknob. The dread he had been denying all the way there finally overwhelmed him.

“No. She’ll be there.”

As always, when he opened the door, she would be there with her back to him.

She didn’t even need to look at him. All she had to do was be there. That was enough. Even catching a glimpse of her fingertips or a strand of her hair would suffice.

‘Please.’

Murmuring the desperate wish, Siliar pushed the door open. His heart felt ready to burst.

Contrary to his hope—

“…?”

No one was there.

“Martiana?”

There truly was no one.

Just as the butler had said, the room was empty.

Everything that had once filled it had disappeared like the tide receding from the shore: her ornaments, her dresses, her bedding, the books she had been reading and her stationery.

It was as though it had been deliberate.

As though she had meant to leave nothing behind to remind anyone of her. Nothing at all.

Except Siliar himself, who was left standing alone.

“Ha…!”

A hollow laugh escaped him. Perhaps it was the sheer absurdity of it all. He pressed a hand to his forehead again and again.

“Why?”

He truly did not know.

He could not understand how this had come to pass.

“Why did she leave?”

How could she make such a decision without a single word?

Yes, they had grown distant—but were they truly at the point of parting like this?

“What did I do wrong?”

Tell me, Martiana.

Siliar turned slowly in the empty room, as if the answer might be hidden in the air.

“Is it because I haven’t found Licorice yet?”

“Because I couldn’t bring you better news? Were you angry? Tired of waiting?”

“Even so, this isn’t right.”

“Martiana, you can’t do this. How could you?’

Clutching his head, Siliar sank heavily to the floor. He desperately searched for an answer, but no matter how he turned the situation over in his mind, he couldn’t find one.

If she had given him even the slightest warning, he wouldn’t be so shaken. He had heard that she wanted a divorce, but he had never truly believed that she would go through with it. Not like this.

She could have told him to his face. If she had, it wouldn’t have felt so hollow. He would have persuaded her. He would have held on to her. He would have cast aside his pride without hesitation.

But why? How could he have lowered himself so much? After all, he was a duke.

But why not?

He would have done it. Others might not have, but he would have.

He had never once imagined a future without her by his side.

***

Perhaps this was what love truly was.

Siliar, who had spent most of his life surrounded by criminals in his role as Captain of the Guard, had once been opened to that feeling.

When had it begun?

He was twenty. Martiana had just turned eighteen. Yes, her debutante ball.

It was a grand gathering of young nobles of a similar age, all being presented to society for the first time. Siliar had been dragged there by his mother, who was doing her best to hide his irritation as he endured the event.

“Look there, Siliar. What do you think of that young lady? She’s the second daughter of the Count of Alder. I quite like her.”

In reality, it was little more than a marriage market in disguise as a debutante ball.

Everyone present was busy appraising one another. Glances flickered everywhere and whispers overlapped without pause.

“This one is such-and-such. That one is like this.

No doubt Siliar’s name had been mentioned in those murmurs, too.

“You’ll choose as you please anyway, won’t you? You’ve been speaking of that young lady since before we arrived.”

“Of course. I am choosing my daughter-in-law, after all. Go on—ask her for a dance.”

Drisena pushed her son from behind.

Siliar did not hide his displeasure, but it was not easy to ignore his mother’s insistence.

Marriage was inevitable if he wanted to inherit the family name. Since he was not in love, there was little reason to refuse.

If he not heard that voice that day, perhaps that would have been the end of it.

“Martiana Kisca.”

He almost walked past without a second thought when he heard it.

Even now, he could not fathom how her voice had managed to cut through the noise of the crowd and reach him so clearly.

Was it because it was brighter than all the others? Or because he had never heard such a pure, luminous voice in his life?

Whatever the reason, Siliar found himself rooted to the spot.

The young lady his mother had mentioned slipped entirely from his mind. He searched only for the owner of that voice.

And then he saw her: A young woman standing at the fragile threshold between girlhood and adulthood.

She was more beautiful than anyone else in the room.

Everything about her was perfect: from the graceful line of her posture and her silver hair that cascaded down to her waist to her fair, unblemished skin, delicate, refined features, and the pale, sky-blue dress that seemed made for her alone.

And then—

“……!”

The moment their eyes met, her gaze softened.

When Siliar saw her luminous violet eyes, he knew he was lost.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Kisca. I am Siliar Vandyk.”

Ultimately, it was him who approached her first. When he heard the name ‘Vandyk’, those nearby were filled with excitement, but he paid no attention.

He could see only Martiana.

“May I have this dance?”

His crimson eyes were fixed on her. His outstretched hand waited for her.

To Siliar, that brief moment felt like an eternity. It vanished the instant she placed her hand in his.

“The honor is mine, Young Duke of Vandyk.”

Martiana smiled softly and took his hand.

She had been so beautiful back then that words could not describe it.

Without telling anyone, Siliar resolved in that moment to marry her — she was simply too lovely.

Of course, not everything in life bent to his will.