A sharp winter wind blew in through the gaps in the door.

Her eyes stung as though her frozen tears had crusted over.

She couldn’t tell whether she was trembling from the cold or from sorrow.

“It is true, Saintess. You are pregnant.”

Those words did nothing to dispel the unease she had pushed to the back of her mind; it returned, crueler than she could ever have imagined.

Ophelia could barely manage to part her crumbling lips and ask, her voice trembling.

“…What did you just say?”

“Let us get rid of it.”

Chadwick’s voice was as cold as a verdict.

Today, she needed him more than ever. Yet he had never been more merciless.

Ophelia squeezed her eyes shut.

“I said, let’s get rid of the child.”

“…No.”

Her voice shook with defiance. Chadwick replied sharply and cutting.

“Do you not understand? That child must never be born.”

Why? How could you be so cruel?

Ophelia clenched her fists tight.

Her unkempt nails bit sharply into her palms.

“It’s your child…”

“Ophelia.”

His voice was cold as he called to her, who trembled as she looked at him.

“Erase it.”

“Then why…?”

Why didn’t you push me away?

Why didn’t you push me away until the very end?

Why did you let me get close to you and accept me?

The words choked her, lodging in her chest like a lump.

As he watched her struggle to finish her sentence, Chadwick spoke in a voice drained of warmth.

“It will be better to erase it before your belly begins to show.”

Upon hearing that cold pronouncement, Ophelia threw his hand aside and looked at him.

“You speak as though my opinion means nothing. I am the mother of this child.”

Chadwick looked down at her furious gaze as if it were beneath him.

“It does not matter. I will see to it that this child is never born.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

How had it come to this?

—”I love you.”

That night, she had clung to him as though her very life depended on it, whispering her desperate, trembling confession into the hollow of his chest.

What had he answered then?

She could no longer recall any words—only the hand that brushed tenderly through her hair, the warmth of his breath spilling against her lips. She had taken that as his reply.

She had believed it meant forgiveness. Believed it meant they could begin again, that love long buried could still take root.

In the safety of his arms, she had dared to hope. She had truly believed.

But now, looking back, she realized that even that fleeting warmth had been nothing more than her own pitiful illusion.

She had loved everything about him—his neatly brushed black hair, the smooth line of his forehead, the proud strength of his brows. And beneath them, those gray eyes that once burned like starlight.

Yet the truth pressed down on her with cruel finality.

He would never love her.
Not now.
Not ever.

“So give up.”

Chadwick’s words fell coldly as he looked at Ophelia in silence.

“Chadwick.”

Tears brimmed in her clear violet eyes, spilling down her cheeks in fragile trails. At the sound of her voice calling his name, his cold, unyielding gaze shifted toward her. She knew—this would be the last time she ever held those gray eyes within her own.

With trembling hands, she brushed away the wetness clinging to her lashes, then lifted her chin to meet him head-on.

‘Chadwick… I no longer have the strength to love a man who cannot love me back. Nor do I have the will. Because…’

“Our…”

‘I must protect the child you cast aside, and myself as well.’

“Let’s divorce.”

After five years of uncertainty, the marriage came to a sudden and unexpected end.

⚫ ⚫ ⚫

In the north of the Grand Duchy of Weibrick, where Winthea was located, winters were always harsh.

Ophelia gazed quietly at the thick snow falling outside. It seemed as though the whole world would turn white. But rather than being beautiful, the snow filled her with dread. He would be on his way — would the snowy road be too dangerous? A fleeting worry passed through her violet eyes.

Lost in thought as she stared outside, she finally moved when she caught sight of her reflection in the glass.

The face her maid had made up looked even more foolish than before she had been dressed.

It had been such a long time since she last attended a party with him. Had she known it would be like this, she wouldn’t have called for her maid.

Ophelia made her way to the bath and dipped her hand into the water with practised ease.

In the northern winter, the water was as cold as ice.

“Haa…”

She wiped off her makeup with cold water, then warmed her frozen fingertips with her breath before sitting back down at the dressing table.

Her clear face was framed by silver hair that fell in loose waves down to her waist.

Her violet eyes were deep enough to draw anyone in. She was beautiful to behold, yet there was an emptiness about her.

“…I should hurry. Chadwick will be waiting.”

Whispering faintly, Ophelia turned away from the cloud of sorrow hanging over her.

Taking the last of her faded pink lipstick, she spread it thinly across her lips and cheeks. Then she deftly plaited her hair.

Her silver hair quickly fell into place, neatly gathered.

Now dressed in a white gown with a faint sheen, Ophelia lifted the invitation from the bed.

‘Ophelia El Sheriad & Chadwick Dale Weibrick, Grand Duke and Duchess’

“…Husband and wife.”

Had it really been five years since they had become husband and wife?

She could still clearly remember the moment he lifted her veil and gently cradled her face in his broad hand.

When she had thought herself lost, he had appeared and saved her, as always.

Her eyes dimmed, heavy with memory.

Their wedding had been held beneath a sky drenched in dazzling sunlight.

Brilliant rays spilled across his dark hair, creating an almost otherworldly glow.

With his neatly combed black hair, broad shoulders, predatory strength, straight brow and piercing grey eyes that gleamed, he was breathtakingly beautiful.

The despair she had felt at being unable to choose her own marriage seemed almost false, as she soon found herself looking forward to the days she might spend with him.

After all, he was the first person ever to ask if she was all right.

Even if he no longer remembered that first meeting himself.

Although their marriage had been arranged for the benefit of the Empire and the Temple, Ophelia did not consider it an unhappy one.

In truth, her heart stirred more often than she could ever admit.

—”I’ll be back.”

She had liked it, waving him off with a smile when he said those words.

—”You’re home?”

She liked the faint smile he gave her whenever she greeted him. Despite knowing their hearts were not the same size, she believed that one day his would match hers.

—”Don’t come near me. You’re filthy.”

Until that day.

Ophelia’s violet eyes lowered as the memory of that moment four years ago cut sharply through her mind.

It had been the first time she had accompanied him on a hunt against the fiends. For the briefest of moments, the shield of holy power that she had cast wavered, and a horde of creatures surged towards her through the opening.

Just as they were about to consume her, Chadwick cut them down and pulled her into his arms. But in that same instant, another fiend’s claws slashed mercilessly across his back.

Hot, heavy blood streamed endlessly over her hands as she clung to him, her fingers slick with the life spilling from his body.

—”Chadwick!”

As she always did, she tried to heal him.

But her holy power could not heal his wounds. For three months afterwards, Chadwick was confined to bed.

When he finally did, the man she had once known had disappeared.

—”When will you return?”

Whenever she asked cautiously, his answer was always the same:

—”I’m busy.”

And so, little by little, Ophelia became invisible within the ducal residence.

Even the servants, who had once greeted her with gentle smiles, began to ignore her.

After all, she was the accursed Saintess who had almost killed their noble master.

In the eyes of him and all who loved him, she would always be the sinner.

In the end, she fell silent and withdrew into isolation.

Four years had already passed.

“…Let’s just go.”

Holding the invitation lightly, Ophelia stepped out of the room.

It had been a very long time since he had agreed to accompany her to a party.

It had been just as long since she had last seen his face — perhaps it was only natural. A faint smile flickered briefly across her lips.

“Philip, when did he say he would arrive?”

She stopped the butler who was looking out of the front gate.

Philip bowed his head slightly before replying.

“There was a telegram. It seems he will be a little late.”

Upon hearing this, Ophelia’s expression clouded over. If he didn’t leave soon, they would miss the party.

Noticing the worry on her face, Philip continued in a businesslike tone.

“Since His Grace surely knows of tonight’s gathering, he will not be overly late.”

“…Do you think so?”

Ophelia could not hide her hope as she asked again. Philip merely nodded in response before stepping aside.

Still gazing out of the window, Ophelia walked towards the front gate. She wanted to greet him as she had done in the early days of their marriage.

The moment she stepped outside, she was struck by a bitter wind.

“Haa… truly midwinter.”

White breath escaped from her lips.

“When will he come?”

Her pale, gloomy-looking cheeks flushed red with anticipation.