As her consciousness faded, a voice like a blade of frost pierced through the darkness—

<Once your seat is empty, Vivian can take it. So I’m afraid it’s time for you to disappear.>

It was a voice she knew all too well—her husband’s.

In Saronne’s fading vision, the scene shifted to a secluded forest near the villa owned by House Lois. It was deep in the night, the woods cloaked in silence.

Before she could make sense of the sudden vision, another figure emerged from the shadows.

<Why did you sit in my place and then struggle so foolishly? A replacement should know her place and live like one…>

The cruel whisper came from none other than Vivian Benit, her voice laced with venom, just loud enough for Saronne to hear.

And that’s when Saronne realized—
This was a dream.

More precisely, a nightmare reflecting a memory from her past.

Suppressing a giggle, Vivian once again donned her mask of innocence and threw herself into Diego’s arms.

Diego looked at Saronne—
No pity in his eyes.
Only cold detachment.

Then, he raised a gun, the barrel glinting under the moonlight as it aimed at her.

Bang!

The shot echoed through the forest, scattering the birds like a scream.

<Hhk…>

As she collapsed, Saronne caught a glimpse of the two silhouettes walking away. They were free, light and utterly unburdened.

A ragged breath escaped her lips.

It was a dream. And yet the pain felt no less real.

That vivid, haunting sensation — so sharp that it could have been carved into her bones — left her panting for a while.

Until, slowly, her breathing calmed.

Before the silence stretched on for too long, she let out a faint, bitter laugh.

A fierce clarity opened her eyes wide.

‘That’s right… In my previous life, I was killed by them just like this…’

After such a hollow and meaningless end, she was now living through this hellish life once more.

‘At last…’

She didn’t feel any despair at the prospect of repeating this life.

‘Did I not beg for this, hundreds—no, thousands of times after death? Pleading for a chance to go back and take revenge on them?’

Saronne welcomed the moment to draw the blade she had been tempering for so long.

This—
This was finally the chance given by the heavens. A divine opportunity to crush them and drag them down.

***

Saronne regained consciousness a full day after the fall.

As she slowly blinked her eyes open, the familiar sight of the deep green canopy came into focus, hazy and distant above her.

“You’re awake, my lady?”

A voice spoke from nearby.

When she turned her head, she saw the family doctor standing at her bedside.

Saronne simply looked at him in silence. He looked at her darkly.

‘…I’ve lost the child again.’

She lifted a feeble hand and quietly placed it over her belly.

‘If only I had realised sooner that I had come back with memories of my past life!’

But once again—she had failed to protect her child.

In her tired, lifeless eyes, a cold fury began to burn.

“My lady, fortunately, you haven’t suffered any serious injuries, but…”

“Leave.”

“…Pardon?”

“I want to be alone. Leave me.”

“Ah… yes.”

Perhaps the physician assumed she had instinctively sensed the loss of her child.

With a look of deep regret, he watched her for a moment longer before finally turning away.

“Please get as much rest as possible.”

Only after he was gone, and the room was quiet again, did Saronne slowly sit up, leaning against the headboard.

‘It feels strange, remembering my past life like this.’

In that former life, on this very day, she had lost her child.

Overcome with grief, she rushed to confront Diego.

Desperate, she told him that Vivian had caused the miscarriage.

And how had her husband responded back then?

< That’s enough. I already know from Vivian that you lost your footing on the stairs.>
<I’m sorry about the child. But that doesn’t mean you can go around blaming others.>

He treated her as though she were a woman driven mad by sorrow. A woman who had lost her mind.

< Looking back, perhaps that child was never meant to be part of our family.>

At the time, Saronne felt as though her world was collapsing because of Diego’s absurd and senseless beliefs.

But now—

— it was different.

This time, she had no intention of quietly submitting to it.

She wouldn’t live spinelessly again.

The first step was clear: she had to divorce Diego Lois.

‘I need someone to help me.’

Handling a divorce on her own would be far too much.

‘In my past life, even as he insulted and tormented me, Diego never once granted me a divorce. He’d rather kill me than let me go.’

She never understood why—but to Diego, divorce had never been a resolution. It was a weapon. A means of control.

Back then, she had been naive. His threats kept her trapped, too afraid to fight back.

But not this time.

This time, if the chance came, she would take it—and end this marriage herself.

If only… she had someone to stand with her.

‘Someone who can help me…’

Then, a voice echoed in her mind—one she had heard not long ago:

“If you ever find yourself needing help… don’t hesitate to come to me.”

Leobint Hethrian.

The moment she thought of him, another memory from her previous life rushed forward.

Saronne, absentmindedly stroking the edge of her blanket out of habit, froze.

<Duchess Lois! Please, stay with me!>
<Saronne…! Please…>
<Saronne…! Please…>

Diego shot her and left her for dead in the undergrowth.

Thankfully, someone found her just in time.

He tried to carry her to hospital, frantic and desperate. However, she was too weak to move, and could only listen as his voice grew fainter with each step he took.

She died never knowing why he clung to her so desperately, sobbing as he held her in his arms.

“……”

The memory chilled her to the core.

‘I still don’t know why he kept trying to help me…’

But one thing was certain. She had found the one person who could be her ally.

Prince Leobint of the Clamir royal family.

‘He may be notorious across the kingdom for countless scandals… but to me, he’s more of an asset than a liability.’

At least, to her—he was.

***

“We’ve arrived.”

The carriage, which was far more uncomfortable than she was used to, finally came to a halt.

After paying the coachman, Saronne stepped down and quietly looked up at the Hethrian ducal estate.

‘I can’t stay out for long.’

Ever since she had regained her memories, Saronne had deliberately pretended to be consumed by grief and isolated herself in order to steal moments like this.

Taking a slow, steady breath, she pressed the gatebell. Despite this being her second life, she couldn’t help feeling nervous.

Not long after, the steward of House Hethrian came out to greet her.

“What brings you here, madam?”

“I’m Saronne Lois. I’d like to speak with the Sub-Duke of Hethrian, if he’s available.”

The steward looked momentarily surprised at the mention of her name. But he quickly composed himself and led her to the parlor.

‘It’s no surprise that people are reacting like this…’

At that time, the Duke of Lois was one of the most talked-about figures in the capital, with Saronne’s name coming up in almost every conversation.

“Please wait a moment. I will inform the young master of your arrival.”

“Yes, I’d appreciate it.”

Saronne offered a calm smile and watched the steward leave.

‘I wonder… will Lord Hethrian be willing to see me?’

At their last meeting, he said he would gladly help her if she needed it. However, promises made in passing aren’t always kept when the time comes.

Of course, Saronne had prepared a plan in case he refused.

As she waited, sipping her tea, she heard the parlour door open.

She had just set down her teacup when their eyes met.

The man who had just stepped in returned her gaze.

Recognising her, he curved his lips into a faint, knowing smile.

“To think the Duchess of Lois would visit me… What a surprise.”

“It’s been a while, Lord Hethrian.”

As elegant and sharply dressed as ever, he took the seat across from her. Saronne could feel his gaze quietly studying her.

“So… I’m curious. What brings you to me? We weren’t exactly in the habit of visiting each other, were we?”

A strange gleam flickered in his eyes. Suspicion, perhaps. Or expectation.

Saronne met his gaze, weighing him carefully, before getting to the point.

“At our last meeting, you told me I could ask for help anytime.”

“Ah.”

A flicker of recognition touched Leobint’s face, his lips curling slightly.

“And?”

“I came hoping those weren’t just passing words… spoken out of some broad sense of charity.”

“That sounds like you have something you need from me.”

“I do. I need your help, Lord Hethrian.”

The smile in his eyes faded by half. And Saronne chose to believe that it was because he was becoming serious.

‘I just hope… he’s not feeling repulsed.’

Though the rumours portrayed him as a man who spoke frivolously and whose handsome face earned him scandal after scandal with countless women, he was actually someone who spoke thoughtfully.

‘But that voice I heard at the end of my past life… his voice—was desperate.’

She still didn’t know why, but he had screamed her name repeatedly, his voice hoarse with emotion. He was trying to save someone as far gone as she was.

Perhaps that was why, despite having little real connection to him, she believed he wouldn’t turn away from her request.

“I suppose I should begin by explaining my situation.”

Trusting him, Saronne began.

“You’ve probably heard the rumours too, Lord Hethrian. The ones about the perfect duchess whose only flaw is that she cannot bear children.”

Her voice took on a detached tone as she trailed off.

She let out a faint, bitter chuckle.

Even without elaborating, she knew Leobint would realise she was the subject of the rumour.

“But what if—even I believed it myself—what if it turns out… my husband was the one orchestrating everything behind the scenes?”

That was one of the truths Saronne had uncovered after regaining her memories.

Throughout their long marriage, she had tried—tried so desperately to conceive. But every attempt had ended in failure.

And while whispers followed her everywhere, branding her a defective duchess, she had endured it all.

Held on by nothing more than her husband’s occasional, curiously calm reassurances.

‘…All the while, Diego—haunted by the memory of his first love—was secretly drugging my food with something that made it impossible to bear a child.’

Saronne pressed her lips together tightly before speaking again.

“Despite my husband’s deliberate interference, I recently became pregnant. Not with a child of unknown origins or dubious birth, but with a legitimate heir. A legitimate successor.”

“…And?”

His expression had hardened, but his gaze urged her to continue.

“I lost the baby just a few days ago. It was Vivian who pushed me down the stairs.”

She tried to speak as calmly and evenly as possible, but Saronne couldn’t stop her teeth from clenching.

The dizzying shock of it all flashed through her again, vivid and cruel.

Leobint watched her silently.

She closed her eyes tightly for a moment, then opened them again to speak.

“Vivian Benit is a vicious woman. She killed my child… and she’s dragged me into hell.”

Leobint, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke in a low voice, as if carefully weighing her words.

“So… what you want is to expose her cruelty to the world?”

“…That too. But more than that—I want revenge. On both my husband and her. That’s what I truly want.”

“Not turning your husband against her… but joining forces with someone else to take them both down?”

The slight smirk that tugged at his lips wasn’t out of disdain but something closer to interest.

A flicker of light, long dimmed in his eyes, seemed to awaken.

“Very well. But I must ask—why does it have to be me? You don’t seem like someone who lacks options, and I can’t see why I should be the one to help you.”

Now, his blue eyes gleamed unmistakably with curiosity.

“The reason I need you, Lord Hethrian…”

Saronne, who until now had spoken smoothly and with resolve, paused for a breath. This part… required courage. But there was no hesitation in her next words.

“I want you to pretend to be my lover—to help me get divorced.”

“……”

“Just like he did… I want it to look like I’ve found someone else to love.”

Saronne’s green eyes gleamed with unwavering conviction. She had passed through many moments of doubt on her way here, but now that she stood before him she was certain.

‘With this man, my plan will succeed.’

He was someone who could suppress every obstacle with another, stronger one.

A man capable of turning even chaos into checkmate.

Holding in her tension, she looked at him carefully.

The faint smile that had lingered on Leobint’s face slowly faded.

Of course—
Coming from a married woman at the center of society’s biggest scandal, such a proposal must have sounded absurd.

This could irreparably damage his reputation. But Saronne hadn’t come without preparation. She opened her mouth again, calm and clear.

“If this were an outrageous, one-sided request, I’d agree it was shameless. But I’ve thought about what I can offer you in return – something that could benefit you.”

“Something that could benefit me?”

“Aren’t you the one who had to endure an unfair tradition just to prove you’d given up your claim to the throne?”

Leobint Hethrian is the second son of the royal family of Nerta, the Clamir.

According to ancient royal custom, once a sibling was confirmed as crown prince, the others were expected to renounce their claims to the throne.

To prevent any future threats to the succession, Leobint was forced to leave the royal line and be adopted into a close cadet branch.

Thus, despite being born a prince, he became heir to House Hethrian.

Saronne was about to present the terms that would tempt him.

But Leobint was quicker.

“No.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he answered.

Deliberate. Calm. Unapologetic.