The curator tossed out a kind word, seemingly trying to lift the mood.

Well, I didn’t expect it to be quite that beautiful a marriage. I was a spy, after all.

But that didn’t mean I disliked it either. If the duke showed any signs of subversive activity, I would report it to the emperor, and if not, I would simply live on as a duchess.

For the young lady of a count’s house to become a duchess was a clear rise in station, so I wasn’t losing anything.

“Thank you. I need to focus on the appraisal now, so I’d like to stop with the small talk.”

I gave them a mild warning and began examining the painting closely.

“It’s a forgery. The pen pressure in the signature is completely different from his other works.”

After a stretch of time that was not particularly short, I finished the appraisal and spoke. Sighs of disappointment escaped from the staff.

“A forgery……. What a shame.”

“When opinions on an appraisal are divided, it usually is a forgery.”

Only originals held research value. Sophisticated forgeries, too, offered much to study, from the techniques used to the social conditions of the era in which they were made. They also served as good research material for appraisers who were still early in their careers.

I stepped back, and the curators surged forward to examine the painting.

“Miss, there you are.”

“Dorothy.”

A maid came running up to me, breathless, as I watched the curators with a smile. It was plain she had been searching for me for quite some time.

“Goodness, working on a day like today. You need to leave for Obellian territory right now. You’re already very late.”

“Has it really gotten that late?”

I had dozed off for a bit and lost track of how much time had passed. I looked around the museum with a faint sense of reluctance.

I must have grown more attached to the museum work than I realized, because leaving felt like a loss.

“Miss, hurry.”

Dorothy’s urging moved my feet, however unwillingly.

* * *

Several days later, Obellian Castle stood before me, grand enough to rival the imperial palace itself. It was a direct testament to the Duke of Obellian’s standing.

Humans had always sought to display their power through the scale of their buildings. It was an essence that had not changed in thousands of years.

“The master is waiting in the drawing room.”

Just then, the butler, a man named Greyson, approached me. He greeted me with a respectful bow and led me inside.

As I was guided to the drawing room, I took in the artworks displayed throughout the castle.

Paintings, sculptures, ceramics……. Even at a passing glance, every single piece was of high research value.

I had heard he had not been collecting antiques for very long, yet he had acquired this many works in just a few years. It was remarkable.

“The castle seems quiet.”

I remarked on it, my eyes still moving over the artworks. Quiet was not quite the right word. Silent was more fitting. The closer we drew to the drawing room, the fewer servants passed through the corridors, leaving them entirely empty.

“The master dislikes noise. He finds it particularly uncomfortable to have many people around him, so he does not keep servants close unless there is something specific to attend to.”

“Is that so? I would think it inconvenient not to have attendants nearby.”

“The master prefers to handle most things himself. I take care of whatever else needs attending to.”

For someone of the Duke of Obellian’s standing, he could go his entire life without lifting a finger. He seemed remarkably unpretentious for a high noble.

“Master. The young lady of Hilleian has arrived.”

[Bring her in.]

The voice that came through from the other side of the door was a rich, attractive baritone. I had heard he was not particularly old, yet something about it carried a weight that spoke of long years.

When I entered the drawing room, he stood with his back to the door, contemplating a large painting on the wall opposite.

On the small table beside him rested a lit cigar. A thin thread of smoke curled upward toward the high ceiling.

He appeared to be waiting for it to go out on its own, in keeping with proper cigar etiquette.

The drawing room held a faint drift of cigar smoke, and the Duke of Obellian, wrapped in that haze, still had not turned to show me his face.

“…….”

Did he not yet know I had entered the drawing room, or did he know and was choosing to keep his back to me?

Unsure what to do, I stood there watching his back.

He slowly extended his arm and took a small sip of the champagne on the table. Without quite meaning to, I found my gaze following his movements.

The painting was undeniably grand and imposing, but what overwhelmed me was not the painting. It was his back.

Black hair catching the sunlight that streamed in through the window, broad shoulders, an upper body wrapped in lean, well-proportioned muscle. Long, outstretched legs. His proportions were nothing short of perfect.

‘I ended up looking at him the way I appraise a sculpture without even realizing it.’

The museum employee’s words about him being a descendant of the divine came back to me. I had been curious about the truth of it myself.

Whether the figures in the founding myths were truly the divine, and if so, whether the power had actually been passed down.

I closed my eyes for a moment, focused, and reached out to sense his aura.

‘……Hm?’

Something familiar came off the Duke of Obellian, this man I was meeting for the first time. I furrowed my brow and concentrated harder.

What I sensed from him was unmistakably the aura of the divine.

‘There’s no way authority could be passed down through generations. And this feeling…….’

I had forgotten to greet him and stood lost in thought when the duke began to turn toward me. I quickly bent my knees and bowed my head before he could fully face me.

“I am honored to meet you, Your Grace. I am Adelheid Riley Hilleian.”

“No need for such formality. We are to be husband and wife, after all.”

[No need for such formality. We’re going to be husband and wife.]

Ah……. Was it because of the nightmare I’d had a few days ago? The voice of my past life’s husband, that bastard, seemed to echo in my ears.

Marriage. And a man who carried an aura so similar to his.

Those two things alone were enough to drag my past life’s memories back to the surface.

I felt pulled into the dream I had dreamed a few days ago. My chest tightened, and my breath grew short.

The drawing room was clearly well lit, yet the spot where I stood felt dark.

It felt like the marital bedroom I had shared with Carnesis, thick with the bluish chill of early dawn.

My head began to throb. I wanted to flee the room that very instant.

‘What on earth is wrong with me?’

Goosebumps rose along my arms beneath my sleeves. Something felt wrong. My heart began to pound wildly. I gripped the skirt of my dress.

“I am Carlisle Euclant Obellian.”

My hands were trembling, but I forced my expression into composure and straightened up from my bow.

The smile I had managed to put on crumbled the moment my eyes met his.

Hair swept lightly to one side, and beneath it, a glimpse of dark brows. His features traced a firm, strong line overall, but the shadow around his eyes gave him a somehow somber look.

His irises gleamed with a cool light, like sapphires set in a collar clip.

They were far too familiar. His appearance had changed, but it could not fool me.

It was him.

“I look forward to your acquaintance, young lady of Hilleian.”

[I look forward to your acquaintance, Erflus.]

I stared at him, my expression gone blank.

This bastard was my ex-husband from my past life. The one who had killed me.

* * *

“Miss Adelheid.”

“Yes?”

I looked up at Carlisle’s call. He wore a polite smile and gestured toward my plate.

The steak on my plate had gone beyond sliced. I had been cutting it into smaller and smaller pieces in a daze, like someone coming undone.

Dorothy, standing by the far wall on standby, watched me with a worried expression.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

Carlisle asked me as I smiled over at Dorothy. My lips nearly twitched at that insufferable tone of his.

‘Why? Why did you kill me?’

If I could, I would grab that bastard by the collar right now and demand an answer.

Ever since I recognized Carlisle as that bastard ex-husband of mine, only one thought had been circling in my mind. I couldn’t think of anything else. My first marriage in this life, the emperor’s command, none of it could scatter the question spinning endlessly in my head.

It wasn’t as though things had been bad between us. He had been warm to me throughout our marriage and had given me more love than I could hold. I, too, had loved him with everything I had. I had believed marrying him was the greatest happiness I possessed.

But that happiness had reached its complete ruin when he killed me.

If he had truly loved me, he could not have killed me the way he did.

I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling as though the scene of him killing me was replaying itself in my mind.

“Young lady?”

“I’m fine.”

I tightened my grip on my trembling hand and shook my head. I thought it best to calm down first and reached for my water.

I couldn’t ignore the situation in front of me because of memories from my past life, so I worked through it step by step.

My ex-husband, Carnesis.

If he was Carlisle Obellian, there were two possibilities.