“Ha…”

Ophelia took a deep breath.

“…I really came.”

The same residence where she had lived with him five years ago stood before her, unchanged.

“When I first came here, I was so nervous…”

The garden was exactly as she remembered it, the tall white gates still gleaming in the sunlight. Nothing about the scene had changed — except for her heart.

Five years ago, she had stood here shyly, harboring vague hopes as she looked at him. Today, she was determined to abandon those hopes. The mere thought of this filled her with a quiet sorrow.

“When I say I want a divorce… what will he say?”

Her hand drifted lightly across the white gates. Would he nod in relief upon hearing her words, satisfied? Or would he greet her with his usual disinterested expression and ask if she had really come all this way just to talk nonsense?

Either way, it would all end today.

“That’s enough.”

Ophelia whispered. Her eyes shifted from the iron gate she had been stroking to the small nameplate beside it.

《Chadwick Dale Weibrick – Ophelia El Sheriad》

Ophelia had once begged him to carve her name alongside his.

She stared at it for a moment, then slowly looked away and pulled at the gate.

It opened easily, as though he had never bothered to lock it.

Beyond it, the familiar rear garden of the estate stretched out before her. It looked almost exactly as it had when she last lived there, and for some reason, this made her heart beat faintly faster.

After standing in the garden for a while, she caught a scent that was both familiar and chillingly unfamiliar.

“Blood…”

The stench of beasts mingled with the smell of human blood. But why here, and why now?

Startled, Ophelia began to turn around.

“Don’t look.”

The low, growling voice rumbled against her ear. It was like the snarl of a wild predator, and she froze where she stood.

“…Chadwick?”

She called to him in disbelief.

“Do not look.”

His tone was as dry and unyielding as ever, but Ophelia couldn’t help herself. She turned around.

There he was — Chadwick, with his matted, blood-soaked black hair. Blood trailed down his face in crimson streaks, staining the ground beneath him.

Her heart sank.

—”Chadwick, don’t die. Please…!”

The memory of four years ago, when he had been wounded in her place, replayed vividly before her eyes.

Ophelia staggered forward on trembling legs, rushing to him.

“You’re hurt? Where… no, that doesn’t matter—healing, I need to heal you—”

As she reached out with trembling hands, words dissolved into nothingness. The sight of his blood-soaked body consumed her, leaving her unable to think of anything else.

“…I am not hurt.”

Chadwick coldly brushed away Ophelia’s pale hand, which had come to cradle his cheek.

She stared at her bloodstained fingers, then raised her wavering violet eyes to meet his.

“I said I’m not hurt. So don’t look at me.”

His voice was rougher than usual.

Biting her lip, Ophelia stepped closer.

“Chadwick…”

“Enough!”

His face contorted with fury. The violent force of his voice froze her where she stood.

“I told you not to look. Not to touch me.”

The glint in Chadwick’s cold eyes cut through Ophelia, causing her hand to tighten into a fist.

Chadwick flicked the blood from his sword with a cold exhale and strode past her.

“Return to the North.”

Ophelia bit her lip hard and demanded,

“Why?”

“…Ophelia.”

“Why do you forbid everything? Why…?”

Emotions—rage, sorrow, despair—rose in her, swelling until they nearly burst.

“I wasn’t going to anymore, anyway.”

No more expectations. No more resentment. No more love. That was what she had come to tell him.

Her eyes fixed on his blood-streaked lashes and she pressed her lips together.

But why did he have to turn up like this?? Only to make her a sinner all over again?

Ophelia pushed her conflicting emotions aside and spoke, her voice trembling.

“Get treated first. Please.”

‘I’ll do it. This time, I’ll do it right.’

Her hand clutched desperately at his wrist.

Chadwick’s eyebrows drew together as he looked at her.

“There are no wounds, so there’s no need for healing. If you want proof, I can show you — now step back.”

Casting Ophelia’s hand aside, he strode into the mansion. Each step left a trail of dark blood across the blue grass.

Ophelia’s trembling feet followed the bloodstains towards the house.

⚫ ⚫ ⚫

The blood-soaked cloth clung to Chadwick, choking him like a noose. As soon as he stepped into the front hall, he tore off his coat and threw it aside.

“Your Grace! If you throw it there, who do you expect to clean it up?”

Hian, his steward, scowled in exasperation.

“You.”

Chadwick gave a frosty reply as he climbed the stairs.

‘Why did she have to come now?’

His fist clenched tightly as he glanced back towards the entrance. Through the glass, he could see a glimmer of Ophelia’s silver hair in the light.

“Hian.”

“What now?”

Hian muttered, still grumbling as he bent to gather the discarded cloak.

“Look after my wife.”

Chadwick didn’t wait for an answer. He turned and continued up the stairs.

In the adjoining bathroom, he roughly and impatiently unbuttoned his bloodstained shirt.

“…Hah.”

He took off the rest of his clothes and lowered himself into the large marble bathtub. The cold water hit his skin like ice, turning it crimson as it carried the blood away.

Cold droplets slid down the sculpted lines of his body, clinging to the ridges of muscle before falling into the pool below.

When one rivulet traced across his abdomen, Chadwick grimaced. Beneath the water, a gaping, raw wound slashed across his lower stomach, as though it had been carved open by a blade.

[ D…o you wa…nt to de…cide? ]

The grotesque whisper echoed in his ears.

[ You are the he…ir of She…riad’s tr…ibe. ]

He remembered the black, beast-like eyes that had looked down at him mockingly.

Voices that only he could hear. Since that day four years ago, they had gnawed at his insides constantly.

Chadwick pressed the back of his hand to his eyes.

“Why did you have to come here…?”

“Why did you force me to show you this.”

“…Hah.”

He rose from the bath, breathing out a long, weary sigh. Drops of water cascaded down his body and hit the floor with a heavy patter.

He hastily wound a towel around his torso and carelessly bound the wound before pulling a fresh shirt over his damp skin.

Beyond the bathroom was the bedroom. Just beyond that was the door to Ophelia’s chamber.

Chadwick opened the white door in silence. Sunlight spilled through the gap under the door, bathing the room in a golden glow.

Bathed in the radiance stood Ophelia. Her silver hair gleamed as she turned her head.

—”Chadwick!”

“Chadwick.”

The voice from memory and the one in front of him blended together.

He simply looked at her for a moment. Then he took a few more steps into the room, and Ophelia rushed towards him, her steps unsteady with urgency.

“Are you really OK?”

Her voice trembled with worry. Chadwick looked down at her for a long moment, then answered in a low, restrained tone.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not just enduring it—you truly are fine, aren’t you?”

“Will you only stop if I let you confirm it yourself?”

“Yes. I must confirm it.”

At her insistence, Chadwick’s brow furrowed. His voice came out edged with annoyance.

“Then do it. Confirm it.”

When he gave her permission, Ophelia stepped closer. Her movements were tremulous, and even her fingertips shook as if they were already stained with blood.

Standing before him, she reached out to him hesitantly. Her hand traced the curve of his strong neck, moving across his broad shoulders and firm chest until it drifted lower.

But before her fingers could reach the line of his sternum and abdomen, Chadwick’s deep voice broke the silence, stopping her in her tracks.

“Wouldn’t it be better to stop here?”

Still brushing against his stomach, Ophelia frowned and looked up at him. A determination not to back down lingered in her eyes. His voice dropped further, becoming weighted.

“Any lower, and nothing good will come of it.”

“…What?”

“You’ve confirmed enough.”

Only then did Ophelia realize where her hand had settled. With a start, she pulled away, flustered.

“Are you satisfied now?”

Chadwick asked, watching her stand before him with that startled expression.

She steadied her breathing before answering softly.

“Yes. I am.”

Yet even as she said it, her gaze lingered on him. She examined him closely, but she could see no marks or wounds on his skin. When she touched him, he didn’t flinch at all.

As always, he stood firmly before her, his cold grey eyes fixed on her. He must be all right after all.

Ophelia let out a faint sigh of relief.

“Then tell me—why have you come this far? I told you before, you were not to.”

The chill in his tone made her hand clench at her side.

He’s fine.

Then now—it was time to say it. To speak the reason she had come.

Slowly lowering her eyes, then raising them again with clarity, Ophelia met his gaze head-on.

“There’s something I want to discuss.”

“Then what…?”

He muttered something under his breath, his brow tightening as though he were already tired of her. But then Ophelia parted her red lips and spoke in a calm yet heavy tone.

“Our divorce.”