She thought he had gone mad. To be brought back from the brink of death, only to ask for poison?

A strange sense of dread stole her breath away as his eyes flicked towards the cabinet where the vials were kept. Chadwick hadn’t missed it.

“Are you insane?”

She cried out in alarm and reached for him, but he was faster.

He flung open the cabinet and poured every poison he could find straight down his throat.

And then—nothing happened.

Neither the venom said to melt flesh from bone nor the toxin from the flower rumoured to paralyze the heart instantly touched him; it was as if he were immune to such things.

“Ha… ha-ha. Isn’t it ridiculous? Truly, isn’t it laughable?”

His unfocused black eyes sparkled with laughter as he walked out.

When she saw him next, it was as though that night had never happened. He was the same as ever.

Except, every now and again, madness would seem to overtake him and he would disappear into the Forest of Beasts.

On those days, it was almost always because—

“Saintess.”

“…”

“Ophelia.”

“Don’t call her name so carelessly.”

Because of trouble with his wife.

Edel raised an eyebrow and watched him intently as he glared back at her.

He wavered so quickly at just the sound of her name. Was it still too difficult for him to forgive what had happened that day?

If so, why did he throw himself into slaying beasts at every opportunity, as though he were nothing but the temple’s loyal dog?

Edel moved closer to where Chadwick was sprawled on the sofa.

Cold sweat beaded on his smooth forehead and trickled down from beneath the hand covering his eyes.

“Haa… at this rate, you might as well just get divorced.”

Edel couldn’t stop herself from speaking, her true feelings breaking loose in an instant.

“What?”

Chadwick lowered his hand, his piercing gaze drilling straight into hers.

“What did you just say.”

His low voice echoed through the infirmary. Why did so many people insist on bringing up that damned word, divorce, of all days?

Hearing it struck him like a blow and his face twisted in pain.

Edel bit her lip, realising too late what she had said. But then, as if accepting her mistake, she let out a breath and continued.

“Since it’s already been said, I’ll ask you plainly. Have you never thought of divorce?”

“Edel Lophine. I’ve only tolerated this much because you’re Lord Lophine’s daughter. But you overstep yourself.”

Chadwick narrowed his brow as he rose from the sofa. Without painkillers or sedatives, there was no reason for him to stay. He would spend the night at his office in the Imperial Palace, where a State Council meeting was scheduled for the following morning.

“Chadwick.”

Although he had already turned to leave, Edel’s voice made him stop in his tracks.

“I know I overstep. But I say this as your friend—and as the daughter of the vassal who once served you. I don’t want to see you live like this any longer.”

She did not know why Chadwick had yielded himself so completely to the designs of the temple. Only he knew the true reason for the endless hunts, fresh wounds and fits of madness.

If any of it had to do with his wife, Ophelia, however, Edel was ready to cast her out — just as the other vassals surely would.

“Think of divorce. At least now.”

After all, the peace that their marriage had brought to the public was already crumbling. Their union had never kept the monsters at bay, so if the medicine was no longer effective, wouldn’t it be wiser to try a different approach?

Edel spoke these words as he stood before the door.

At her voice, Chadwick wrenched it open with a violent hand and strode out. His steps were mercilessly firm, without a trace of hesitation.

“…Think of divorce.”

Chadwick muttered as he mounted the horse he had left waiting in the infirmary’s alley.

“I will.”

He would do it. But not now.

“I was thinking… perhaps we should get a divorce.”

Ophelia’s calm, detached and almost casual voice echoed in his ears again. That steady, empty tone, coupled with those violet eyes that seemed hollow, etched themselves into his mind — they were impossible to forget.

“…D*mn it.”

The curse slipped out unbidden. His chest hurt and felt tight, as if his throat were closing.

Ophelia was slowly abandoning her hopes for him and her love for him was fading. Hadn’t he been pushing her towards that for the past four years?

And yet—

“Chadwick.”

Her violet eyes, which had once warmed him like sunlight, were now cold. This change had taken root like a thorn in his side.

“Haa…”

It couldn’t go on. If it did, he would cross the line, and once that line was broken, everything would be lost.

“Before that happens… I have to end it.”

Perhaps it was impossible. But he would find a way to end this wretched struggle, as well as the bond between himself and Ophelia.

And after that, what would remain?

Chadwick’s ash-grey eyes clouded over, growing heavy and dull.

“Chadwick, at times even death can bring peace.”

“…Is that so.”

So that’s why you went so quietly beneath your own child’s blade? Did you leave every burden behind for me to bear?

A storm of emotions flickered in his eyes before fading, and then, almost against his will, a hollow laugh escaped his lips.

The end was simply the end. Beyond it, there was nothing. Only unending darkness.

With a ragged breath, Chadwick struck his horse’s flank and urged it forward. Dawn was still a long way off.

⚫ ⚫ ⚫

Ophelia remained on the floor long after Chadwick had left. It was only when the bright sunlight seeping through the window gave way to a bluish darkness that she finally lifted her head.

“Ah…”

Bathed in moonlight, the bedroom looked astonishingly unchanged from five years ago.

“Truly… just the same.”

Except for him. Except for her.

Ophelia let out a hollow laugh as her eyes moved slowly around the room.

The first embroidery pattern she had stitched was still hanging on the wall in a frame. The pale ivory curtains that she had chosen herself still swayed gently by the window. Nothing had changed: not the cabinet that had once held his favorite whisky and her favorite tea leaves, nor the bedding.

The room felt as though time itself had stopped at the moment she had been happiest.

“…If only we could go back.”

Her voice escaped before she could stop it, and she let out a sorrowful laugh.

Why did her heart still hurt over such a thing?

Why? Had the past four years not left enough scars? Or did she still long for his love?

“How foolish…”

Even knowing it was impossible.

The truth was, life in the north without Chadwick had never been joyful. The truth was, it had felt empty.

“Chadwick…”

For four years she had whispered his name alone, always—

“I was lonely.”

Perhaps, more than anything, she had wanted him to know that.

‘I was hurting this much. So please… come back to me now.’

“Please… just look at me.”

Only after he had left did Ophelia find the courage to say what she had longed to say all along.

When she was younger, all she wanted was for him to notice her and stay by her side. Five years ago, her laughter had sounded brighter. Her violet eyes had gleamed with expectation and hope, and not even he had remained entirely cold before that radiant gaze.

Even now, on the day she had uttered her final words, Ophelia still yearned for those days.

“Perhaps… I never should have come.”

She had come here thinking she would let go of her hopes. But if that had been a hope in itself, then she should never have come at all.

Ultimately, she gained nothing. She had achieved nothing.

Once again, she was left alone, weeping.

“Haa…”

A hollow sigh slipped between Ophelia’s lips.

“Don’t even dream of it.”

Those ash-gray eyes, cold and heavy with fury, came back to her vividly—the voice that had struck like ice.

What should she do?

Ophelia’s fingers clenched tightly around the hem of her dress.

“I will never allow you to leave me.”

What did he want from her?

She felt as though she were sinking deeper and deeper into a bottomless abyss, with no hope of ever escaping. A suffocating dread closed in on her.

She squeezed her eyes shut and took a sharp, ragged breath.

“My lady!”

Hian’s startled voice brushed against her ear.

Startled, Ophelia quickly lifted her head. Meeting her gaze were Hian’s deep green eyes.

“Ah… Hian…”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

Her answer came as she met the worried look in his eyes.

“I was alarmed to see you sitting on the floor. It seems the long journey has left you weary.”

Hian studied her quietly before speaking again in a gentle voice.

“You should rest a little. Shall I bring you some tea?”

Upon hearing his cautious words, Ophelia’s gaze drifted towards the cabinet almost unconsciously. Five years had already passed. Would the tea leaves inside be useless by now? A sense of sorrow stirred in her chest. Leaves left to wither alone in that cabinet… It felt too much like her own situation.

“Shall I bring that tea?”

Hian followed her gaze toward the cabinet and asked.

Ophelia’s eyes widened slightly.

“Are those leaves still drinkable? They must be terribly old by now…”

“No, my lady. Everything in that cabinet has been replaced regularly. His Grace ordered it so.”

At his words, Ophelia’s violet eyes, still fixed on the cabinet, trembled faintly.