She’d dressed her in fine clothes, fed her good food, even provided her a good bed—yet she kept hiding in dark corners like a rat. He didn’t like it one bit.

Making him feel like some kind of criminal.

Her tears still lingered vividly in his mind.

The moment he saw those blazing eyes holding him in their gaze amid wet tears, he’d felt his breath catch completely.

What is this feeling?

An emotion he couldn’t explain.

Astaire raised his hand, repeatedly clenching and unclenching his fist.

Having lived in a world where everything was clear-cut, suddenly feeling an emotion he couldn’t define himself—it made him uneasy.

He was wary of things he couldn’t name or whose substance was unclear. Because there was no way to prepare for such things.

So this emotion he was feeling now was extremely unpleasant.

If he could, he wanted to rip this feeling welling up inside him right out.

The man’s handsome eyes curved crookedly.

He didn’t leave Daphne’s bedroom.

Instead.

Step, step, step.

Astaire’s footsteps echoed eerily through the quiet bedroom. The intervals between sounds were disturbingly regular.

Click, click, click.

He opened the wardrobe first. Sure enough, the wardrobe door was locked and wouldn’t open.

Astaire’s gaze fixed on the silver lock for a long time.

Without hesitation, the man pulled the bell cord. Thud, thud, thud. Shortly after, a maid came up to the bedroom without delay.

“Your Grace?”

The maid seemed surprised to realize the one who’d summoned her was the Duke, not the Duchess. Regardless, Astaire commanded the maid in a cold voice.

“Bring me tools to break the lock.”

“…Pardon? Yes!”

The maid flinched in surprise but quickly obeyed the order.

The maid who’d scurried away returned shortly with pliers to break the lock.

Click!

Astaire broke the lock with the tool without hesitation.

He needed to know everything Daphne was hiding from him.

He needed to uncover all her secrets.

That was his only thought.

Crash, bang bang!

Astaire pulled out everything in the locked wardrobe and threw it all to the floor.

The loud commotion made the ducal estate noisy, and the head butler who came running at the sound turned pale at the scene before him.

“Y-Your Grace!”

No matter how much he called for the Duke, Astaire was now half out of his mind. As the head butler who’d served Duke Seyfried for a long time, he immediately sensed it.

Even so, when the Duke wanted to act as he pleased in his own estate, no one could dare stop him.

Did he really need to go this far?

The head butler sighed inwardly watching Astaire. The more he looked, the more he pitied the Duchess.

What had that gentle, kind-hearted lady done wrong to suffer like this?

While the head butler clicked his tongue inwardly, Astaire had by then emptied almost everything from the wardrobe onto the floor.

“What’s this?”

Finally, the Duke picked up a small potion placed on the shelf.

When he shook the potion bottle, a dark red medicine sloshed pleasantly inside.

Astaire instinctively sensed something ominous from that deep color.

“Looks like an unlucky medicine.”

“Could it be that the lady is ill somewhere…”

“No, that’s not it.”

Astaire cut off the head butler’s shocked words and continued.

“That can’t be. My wife’s health is being carefully monitored by the ducal physician.”

That was true.

Then the answer was…

“Head butler.”

“Yes? Yes.”

Astaire called the head butler in a voice that had grown darker. The white-haired old man who’d been standing dazed finally opened his eyes properly and stood at attention.

“Have this medicine analyzed to find out what it is.”

“Yes, understood.”

“As quickly as possible. Report the results directly to me.”

“Yes.”

Actually, Astaire had a rough idea what that medicine was.

He wanted to confirm it. And he desperately hoped that his intuition was wrong.

But d*mn it, the man knew all too well that his intuition was exceptionally sharp.

“Ah, and.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Do you have any cigars?”

It was a fairly famous anecdote in the ducal household that Astaire had quit cigars cold turkey when he got married, despite having smoked them for a long time.

It wasn’t something with mild addiction, yet he’d cut off a habit of over ten years in one stroke, simply because it wasn’t good for his new wife’s health.

His self-control had been that remarkable.

So what had he sensed from that medicine?

The head butler, who knew nothing, just looked troubled.

But an order was still an order. The head butler discreetly presented the cigars the servants had been secretly smoking behind the building.

“It’s not much, but if this is acceptable.”

“Thanks.”

Though it was a cheap cigar that back-alley ruffians might smoke, Astaire accepted it without complaint.

The head butler trimmed the cigar’s end slightly and brought a lighter close.

Whoosh.

Gray smoke that hadn’t been seen in the ducal estate for a long time floated lazily in the air.

Rather than fading, the smoke only grew thicker.

Astaire smoked the cigar while looking at the moon outside the window for a long time.

His profile looked like a sculpture carefully crafted by a god. The sculpture reflecting moonlight was mesmerizingly captivating.

His green eyes, reminiscent of summer, sank heavily with a deep color.

The head butler stood anxiously before bowing and leaving to give Astaire privacy. The Duke expressed his gratitude with a light nod.

Astaire put the cigar to his lips again and inhaled deeply.

His dear wife who’d made him do things he hadn’t done before—Daphne Brandley, no, Daphne Seyfried.

The surname attached to your name will never come off.

Not even when you die.

And with that name, you’ll be buried with me even in death.

Because that’s the contract.

Because you sold yourself to me.

So from your head to your toes, you’re all mine.

If Daphne were in front of him now, Astaire wanted to whisper that to her. Though his lovely wife would be asleep by now, of course.

“Ha…”

Was he a nightmare to her?

He suddenly became curious about that.

Well, it didn’t matter anyway. What mattered wasn’t dreams but reality.

And Astaire intended to teach Daphne cold reality.

Who was above and who was below.

He would thoroughly set her straight.

Even after feeding and teaching her, his lovely wife remained unlearned and naive.

* * *

Two days had passed since the ball.

Daphne hadn’t slept well for two consecutive days. All because of Astaire.

Even though she slept alone comfortably in the wide bed without him, strangely she had to toss and turn all night. When she suddenly opened her eyes, she’d habitually checked the spot beside her.

She was still such a fool.

“…What’s that man to me?”

She muttered while looking out the window. Fortunately, no one was listening, including the maids.

Then the head butler found Daphne sitting alone in the garden with a letter.

“It’s a letter from the Grand Duchess.”

“Thank you.”

Daphne opened the letter and read it immediately. After quickly scanning the contents, she handed the letter to the head butler and sighed in dismay.

“Haa.”

The main content was that the Grand Duchess had been planning to come up to the capital where Daphne was, but couldn’t make it due to personal reasons.

“This is troublesome…”

Daphne muttered quietly after watching the head butler’s retreating figure.

The Grand Duchess was essentially the only lifeline who could help with the divorce from Astaire.

But now that lifeline was about to disappear.

Could Astaire have interfered?

She bit her lip quietly and pondered. Some inexplicable intuition was telling her that Astaire had gotten involved in this.

That he already suspected her plan.

This was problematic.

Surely there must be some other way. A way to escape from that d*mn Duke Astaire Seyfried. She needed to figure that out first.

Daphne thought and thought all day in the garden.

The Duke’s ban on her going out was still in effect. Thanks to that, there were limits to what she could do alone.

“If I can’t move, I need to make others move…”

She could ask for help from outside. But that was too risky. Because Astaire had recently been inspecting all letters addressed to Daphne.

Moreover, strangely, even those letters hadn’t been coming lately.

She was Duchess Seyfried, who’d built proper social connections in high society. Yet not even a single invitation to a small tea party was coming. It made no sense.

Then suddenly, there was a commotion at the garden entrance.

“You cannot, my lady.”

“Just for a moment, it’ll only take a second.”

“You cannot. His Grace has not permitted it.”

“I’m telling you it’ll really just be a moment.”

“The Duchess is not feeling well.”

Not feeling well, indeed.

Even now she was perfectly fine, walking through the ducal estate’s glass garden on her own two healthy legs.

Daphne scoffed while listening to the conversation.

Moreover, she knew the owner of that voice well.

Reina Melanian.

The marquis’s daughter had come to see her, not Astaire.

But why?

Countless question marks appeared in her head.

But her body moved faster than her head. Daphne was already walking toward the garden entrance.

“Head butler?”

“Ah, Duchess!”

The head butler who whirled around looked at her with a troubled expression. And Reina, unusually, smiled brightly with delight upon seeing her.

What on earth could make that woman smile so brightly?

The feeling wasn’t good.

But she had to find out. That woman was vicious enough to gift her contraceptive medicine.

Because you need to know your enemy to prepare in advance.

“Lady Melanian. It’s been a while.”

Though calling it “a while” when they’d seen each other two days ago didn’t really matter.

“What brings you here? I think we should meet in the drawing room rather than the garden.”

“Ah, it’s just that.”

Reina swept her bright blonde hair back and smiled brightly.

It had been quite a while since she’d seen Reina smile so refreshingly.

An ominous smile.

“I heard an interesting story.”

Daphne quietly narrowed her eyes and waited for her next words.

“For instance… rumors that the relationship between Duke and Duchess Seyfried isn’t what it used to be.”

“…”

Instead of answering, Daphne quietly studied Reina’s face.

Befitting her former reputation as the star of high society, her eyes sparkled bright and clear even while speaking rude words.

And in that sparkle, Daphne read the emotion of greed.

How should she respond?

“…Is that so?”

For now, she neither denied nor confirmed it.

In any case, Reina noticing the strange atmosphere between her and Astaire wasn’t a good sign. Though she couldn’t logically explain why.

She didn’t want to be caught preparing for divorce from Astaire. Especially not by Reina.

Was it because she knew that once she and Astaire divorced, the man would go to Reina triumphantly?

Daphne hid her coldness and quietly stared at her husband’s woman.

“Please sit, my lady.”

For now, she led her to the small table in the garden. When she gestured to a maid hovering nearby, the maid shortly brought tea and pastries for the two of them.