A large inverted-triangle shadow swallowed her whole, but before it did, Daphne spoke again.

“Do you remember the account you used to send me a monthly allowance during my Academy days? I deposited money into that account today.”

Tears welled up in Daphne’s eyes once more. Astaire stared at his wife, now shirtless.

Even with his wife crying before him, the man’s eyes remained utterly cold. He didn’t even bother hiding his annoyance.

Was he thinking he needed to wipe away those detestable tears quickly? The man approached and reached out his hand.

But Daphne stepped back. Then she said it.

“Let’s get divorced.”

The man’s hand stopped dead.

For the first time, a crack appeared in his consistently rigid expression.

“The divorce talk again.”

“The contract states that once I repay all the debts in my name, the sponsorship contract automatically terminates. That means there’s no reason for our marriage contract to continue either.”

Contracts and other legal documents were open to interpretation in court.

The man’s deep-set eyes narrowed.

Who dared put such ideas into the Duchess’s head when the contract had been meticulously reviewed by the ducal family’s exclusive lawyer? That’s roughly what he must be thinking.

“I’ve already deposited enough money to cover the debt written in the contract into that account.”

“Was it all because of that pittance?”

‘Pittance.’

Since when did money that could buy three mansions in the capital’s wealthiest district become a ‘pittance’?

She had saved that money her own way, penny by penny, from the moment she decided to give up her one-sided love for this man and accept the cold reality that marriage wouldn’t make him love her back.

The man trampled all over that effort.

She loved him, so now she was leaving because it hurt too much.

The memory of that day still remained vivid, like it happened yesterday.

The dreamlike sweetness of thinking her one-sided love had been returned.

It was during her final semester at the Academy, right in the middle of preparing for graduation exams.

‘The Duke wishes to see you.’

Astaire, who rarely visited despite being her sponsor, suddenly summoned her from the Academy.

With a trembling heart, she headed to the address his secretary had written down. She arrived at an old cabin.

A secretive space where people rarely seemed to come and go. There, Daphne received a proposal for a contract marriage.

No, it wasn’t a proposal—it was an order.

An order from a sponsor to the person he sponsored, after paying off all her debts.

‘When you graduate, marry me.’

‘…Pardon?’

At first, she doubted her ears. Even when she turned down the advances of the Academy’s most eligible young masters, only this man occupied her heart.

When everyone in the world refused to believe in her, Astaire was the one who believed in her.

No matter what others said, he told her not to care and to walk her own path. At least this man did.

She never dreamed the one-sided love she kept secretly hidden in her heart would come true in a single moment like this.

‘Didn’t you hear me? Should I say it again? Ah, should I get down on one knee?’

The man didn’t kneel before her or blush.

Behind the public stage of the Academy graduation ceremony, where he proposed with a bouquet of roses in front of everyone, the reality was this shabby and cold.

‘But why on earth…’

‘I bought you anyway. Do I really need to explain further?’

Even at his cold words, Daphne couldn’t argue back. It was the truth.

Hidden beneath the fancy wrapping paper called sponsorship was an ugly, sordid story.

Right, he just needed a presentable wife.

Deeper than the proposal, his cold face and voice pierced into her heart.

Daphne, recalling that moment, lifted her head to look her husband straight in the eye.

“Is the Duchess’s allowance insufficient? I’ll tell my assistant to allocate more budget.”

“I’ve already paid back all the money anyway, so do we need any other explanation?”

She spat it out with the coldest expression she could manage, just like Astaire had shown her that day back then.

She didn’t want to be bound by anything anymore. Even if it was this damned love.

I need to live my life without you.

I don’t want to stand by your side anymore, playing the pretty doll wife, living my life as you control and manipulate it.

I need to step down from the stage you direct and put my own story, written by my own hand, out into the world.

So she decided.

She would leave this man.

“Please let me go now.”

An indecipherable silence circled the room.

In the man’s cool eyes, an unfamiliar glint appeared. The moment she realized it.

“Daphne, you’ve grown up.”

The man approached and patted her crown, speaking in a tone like he was watching a cute child’s antics. Daphne bit her lip hard.

As she lifted her head, the man’s face suddenly drew close. Along with his face came the cool air he carried.

She had to hold her breath then. She couldn’t take her eyes off the man.

“Well, you have grown up enough to do this with me now.”

She finally realized. The place he’d brought her was a bedroom, and late at night, no servants would be wandering near the master’s room.

She hadn’t even changed out of her shoulder-baring dress before coming up to the bedroom.

She’d been too hasty, focusing only on negotiation.

When she realized it, the man’s hand had already pulled down her clothes.

“Answer me.”

The fingers that pulled down her clothes now touched her lips, demanding an answer. Red cosmetics smeared onto the man’s thumb.

“Tell me who the h*ll put these divorce ideas into my wife’s head.”

His voice sounded like he desperately wanted her to tell him someone had instigated her.

“When you mentioned the contract earlier, do you remember the very first clause of that contract?”

She remembered. How could she not?

“Party B shall make efforts to produce an heir. Party B shall receive monthly examinations with a physician and, following the physician’s diagnosis, shall do her utmost to make efforts with Party A to produce an heir.”

“That’s—”

“Divorce or whatever, we’re still married.”

“…Today isn’t ’that day.’”

“Do we have to schedule it? We’re not that kind of couple.”

What touched her calves was the plush bedroom mattress, and what blocked her front was the man’s solid body.

“Tonight will be interesting. I get to be with a wife who wants a divorce.”

Whoosh—the ceiling and floor flipped easily. Just like how he’d turned her small world upside down when they first met. She couldn’t understand his attitude any more than she could understand the inverted world.

Why on earth?

Her mouth fell open in shock. She thought once she repaid the money, he would naturally let her go. Because the woman this man loved was someone else.

“Mmph!”

The man stole her breath, seemingly unwilling to hear another word. He chased down and caught her as she tried to escape.

To him, she was just a means, just a tool.

Daphne suddenly wondered. Did her husband kiss that woman this way during the day too?

Did he look down at her with these eyes?

A disgusting feeling rose up, like dirty water soaking into a towel.

“If I haven’t gotten pregnant all this time, don’t you think there’s a reason for that?”

Once, she desperately wished this man’s child would take root in her belly. Not anymore.

A child born between a couple like this couldn’t possibly be happy.

“I’m useless as a Duchess anyway, aren’t I?”

“You’re saying some pretty presumptuous things for once, Daphne.”

In an instant, the man’s gaze changed.

Into a dangerous stare.

“I’ve never once thought my wife was useless.”

It seems the person in question doesn’t know, so I’ll have to teach her clearly from now on.

The man seemed to think so.

“And have we really done it ‘enough’?”

The moment the cool air touched her skin, heat rushed in. The man’s straight fingers touched her deeply.

His touch was completely different from how he usually warmed her up like it was just a duty.

By the time Daphne instinctively realized it, it was already too late. With incomparably rougher hands than before, the man grabbed both her pale thighs and spread them apart.

“Have at least five children before you leave.”

Spouting words not even in the contract—truly like a vicious creditor.

“Stop, stop it.”

“Just from this much?”

Her cheeks flushed, and a strange feeling spread from deep in her lower belly, like hundreds of butterflies flapping their wings.

“…Hah, ngh!”

“I think we still need to do this a lot more.”

Daphne’s blue eyes wavered. The only person filling that round sky at this moment was Astaire alone.

The moment the cool air touched her skin, heat rushed in. The man’s straight fingers parted the dark thicket and plunged into the wet well.

She finally gave up. She glared at the ceiling light, whose outline was only faintly visible in the darkened bedroom. Even that seemed to shake with tingling excitement.

“Just do it quickly.”

“Why should I finish quickly for your sake?”

The man smiled bitterly and didn’t stop.

“What are you doing…!”

An even more intense pleasure climbed up from her toes. Her senses had long since escaped her control.

Daphne’s back arched in a steep curve. She reached out to stop the hand toying with her, but the man, seemingly expecting this, spread her v*lva wide open with his middle finger and thumb.

He pulled out the finger that had been moving in and out of her hole and touched the pink pearl protruding from the center of the open shell. The man pressed and rolled that pearl slowly, like delicately crafting it. Her cl*toris glistened, wet with clear fluid.

“Hnn, stop, stop it…!”

“If I don’t loosen you up enough, it’ll hurt a lot today.”

‘Today’ it might hurt. She didn’t fully understand the man’s words.

Her calves, flushed from the heat, trembled and twitched.

Right, just endure it.

Daphne bit her lip and thought.

If this night is the last night… it’s not impossible.

There won’t be any more nights like this anyway.

He suddenly pulled out the finger that had been ravaging inside her. Just as Daphne exhaled a heavy breath, the man’s face suddenly moved down toward her lower region.

“What are you—ngh!”

A pleasure similar to before but far more intense climbed up from her toes. The moment the man’s tongue touched her was vivid. 

She could clearly feel how he licked her hole, how he burrowed inside and in which direction he stimulated her vaginal walls.

Her senses had long since escaped her control. Her white calves, heated with fever, trembled.

“That’s dirty, there, ah, hnn, stop…!”

“I told you. I have no intention of finishing quickly.”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. When she lowered her head, a scene beyond lewd—downright obscene—filled her vision. His straight nose bridge, buried between her legs, moved up and down along the split crevice of her v*lva.

There was nowhere to look. Nowhere to escape. She had to lie there helplessly and feel pleasure from the man’s tongue work.

Though they’d had obligatory intercourse many times before, an act like this was a first.

Surely this was a filthy thing to do.