“Just for tonight.”

Only for this one night. Without the excuse of illness, she would never have been able to speak the words at all.

At that, Chadwick frowned slightly as he looked down at her.

“My presence will not cure your sickness.”

Ah…

A sound like a faint m*an slipped from Ophelia as her hand fell away from his sleeve.

“…But at the very least—”

‘At the very least, I wouldn’t feel so alone.’

The words caught in her throat and never left her lips.

“If you want to say something, then say it. Don’t stop halfway through and cause trouble.”

Chadwick’s brow furrowed as he regarded her silence.

“…It’s nothing.”

Her voice was weary, tinged with resignation. Even so, Chadwick turned away without hesitation.

“The maids will bring your medicine.”

At his words, Ophelia gave a faint smile.

“…Yes. Thank you, Chadwick.”

‘But the medicine will do no good.’

Her eyes followed him until the door closed behind him. Her fragile smile slowly faded from her face.

Although the room was warm, she felt cold inside.

She knew the cause of her coldness was loneliness, but she forced herself to turn away from it.

⚫ ⚫ ⚫

The ice in the whisky glass clinked as Chadwick held it. After looking at the shifting cubes for a moment, he turned towards Philip, who was trembling in the middle of the study.

“When did my house become a nest for vermin, Philip?”

The chill in Chadwick’s stare caused Philip to straighten his back and stiffen up unconsciously.

“In the short time I was away, this house has fallen into utter disorder.”

The moment he opened Ophelia’s door, a cold blast of air poured out. This was not the kind of chill caused by a hearth that had been cold for just a few hours. Even he, having come from the biting wind outside, could sense the frost. The room must have been like that for at least two days.

There was no way the butler could have failed to notice. If he truly had not, then his ignorance itself was his crime.

Chadwick’s frosty gaze fell upon Philip like a blade.

“M-My lord, I… I do not know what you mean…”

Cold sweat trickled down Philip’s back.

As he pretended not to know and tried to slip away, Chadwick narrowed his eyes as he put the glass down. The golden liquid inside rippled like a wave.

“Philip. Do you know what becomes of a dog that no longer recognizes its master?”

“…”

“It is slaughtered.”

Chadwick rose from his chair, his words leaving his lips in a low murmur.

He felt a weight pressing down on his chest. With an irritated sigh, he loosened the cravat around his neck.

The room was filled with dust due to a lack of maintenance, and discarded clothes were strewn across the floor. The bed linens were twisted and unkempt.

On top of that—

‘Of course the master has a new woman!’

Such words, in his house.

“It seems the name of Weibrick has been taken lightly.”

Even in his absence, he had ordered them to never forget their place. But beasts did not heed words.

Philip sensed the murderous intent in Chadwick’s eyes and drew in a sharp breath, crying out in panic.

“Never! My lord, never could such a thing be!”

The House of Weibrick predated the Imperial line itself. It was so venerable that not even the Emperor dared treat it lightly. To mock it was impossible.

If the servants had scorned anyone, it was not the Weibrick name, but the woman they believed to be a mere façade: the so-called Saintess, Ophelia.

Born of lowly birth and estranged from the Grand Duke, she was an easy target. That must be what they all thought.

But they were mistaken.

Regardless of the state of their marriage, she belonged to Weibrick. To belittle her was an offence that Chadwick could never forgive.

Realizing this, Philip dropped to his knees in submission.

“Not taken lightly, my lord!”

Chadwick rose from his seat, his steps carrying him toward the butler. With each pace, the pressure in the room grew heavier, until Philip’s body shook.

“How amusing. What a laughable claim.”

Chadwick’s cold gaze swept over the man crawling pitifully at his feet. Although he had quickly grasped the situation, the sight of the man cowering was contemptible nonetheless. Nevertheless, the man’s crimes were serious, and from that moment on, he would obey without question.

Having made up his mind, Chadwick spoke.

“One day.”

“…My lord?”

Philip raised his quivering gaze to meet his.

Chadwick lowered his gaze and spoke in a cutting tone.

“One day. That is all you have.”

“…”

“Drive them all out and fill this place with people again!”

At Chadwick’s command, Philip parted his lips slightly, but lowered his head instead.

“Yes, my lord…”

“Leave.”

Without so much as a glance, Chadwick turned away and sank back into his chair. Philip, watching for the slightest opening, quickly slipped from the study. Moments later, the door shut with a firm click.

“Haa…”

A dry sigh escaped through Chadwick’s teeth.

Nothing pleased him. Not Ophelia, who had endured her suffering in silence until she collapsed; nor himself.

He closed his eyes and knitted his brows tightly together before letting his gaze fall upon the whisky glass on his desk. Tonight, the golden liquid gleamed with an unfamiliar, almost seductive allure.

Loosening a few buttons on his shirt, he lifted the glass and drained it in one gulp. The burn slid down his throat, searing away the dryness there.

When he turned his gaze towards the window, he was met with a sky stripped bare, without a single star.

When would that darkness finally lift?

Lost in such useless thoughts, Chadwick’s gray eyes sank heavily.

⚫ ⚫ ⚫

Ophelia did not wake up until the afternoon.

Sleep had eluded her ever since that day, but now she had finally been granted a sleep so sweet that it felt almost too good to be true.

As she woke, her silver lashes lifted and a soft breath escaped her lips.

“Ah.”

Ophelia was left without a response at his words, managing only a faint reply. After a moment of silence, Chadwick spoke again, his voice devoid of warmth.

“I’ll be leaving shortly. Prepare yourself.”

“…With me?”

Caught off guard by the unexpected words, Ophelia hesitated, repeating the question.

His reply came flat, dry.

“Then who else here would I mean, if not you?”

“…No one.”

She lifted her gaze to meet his and replied in a barely audible whisper.

Unlike Ophelia, who had only just woken up, Chadwick was already composed and immaculate. His black hair was slicked neatly back with pomade, as always, and the fitted charcoal vest he wore only served to heighten his striking presence.

Only yesterday, his cold words had hurt her deeply, and yet seeing him now made her heart leap once more. How hopeless of her to still be so easily swayed.

“I’ve brought in new maids. They’ll be in shortly. Get dressed and come out.”

He swept his indifferent gaze over her before turning his back on her.

As she watched him, Ophelia suddenly glanced down at herself, let out a startled gasp, and covered her face with both hands.

Her nightdress, damp with sweat, had been replaced with a thin slip — most likely the work of the new maids. Through the sheer fabric, she could make out the faint outline of her skin, her cheeks flushing a deep red.

“Ah… really.”

As she shook her head in embarrassment, a few strands of silver hair slipped down over her reddened ears.

⚫ ⚫ ⚫

The new maids were capable.

Once they had finished dressing her properly, she barely recognized the figure staring back at her in the mirror.

As she studied the reflection, one of the maids lifted a gown from a familiar box.

“My lady, allow me to help you change.”

It was the very same box she had seen at Chadwick’s feet the night before.

The jeweled white dress that emerged from within made Ophelia’s expression falter.

“…That dress is likely not mine.”

It must belong to another woman. She did not want to ruin their rare outing together by wearing something that might not be meant for her—by provoking his displeasure. If he were to look at her and say, ‘Why are you wearing that?’—those words would wound her far more deeply than the mockery she had endured at the party.

At that, one of the maids, who had been listening quietly, spoke hesitantly.

“My lady… forgive me, but this dress is indeed yours.”

“…What?”

“Your initials are embroidered on the lining.”

“Ah…”

Ophelia parted her lips faintly as she gazed down at the gown.

Dear. O.S – M.RR

On the inside of the pure white dress, in delicate pink embroidery, her initials had been stitched with loving care.

“Madam Lery…”

At the signature that followed her name, a small smile blossomed on Ophelia’s face.

‘Had he gone to the shop… to buy this for me?’

Rumors were always prone to exaggeration. Maybe there hadn’t been another woman after all.

This fragile hope quickly filled her heart.

“If it displeases you, shall I prepare another gown instead?”

The maid asked carefully, noting Ophelia’s silence.

“No. I like this one.”

Beyond the window, the ice was melting in the rare, bright sunshine.

Perhaps he had softened a little, too.

It felt as though a warm breeze had begun to blow, dispelling the coldness of last night.