The girl spoke matter-of-factly, and the count’s eyes widened in an instant. From the situation, it was clear she’d been hiding this even from the count she lived with.

“What makes that little brat so special?”

The count snorted dismissively. For once, Astaire agreed, but somehow he found himself wanting to know more.

A slim possibility, less than one percent.

Every single second of the man’s time was precious money, yet somehow he wanted to give that girl about a minute of his valuable time.

It was an uncharacteristic decision for someone who always sought grounds and reasons for every action.

“Explain. I’m someone whose time is extremely valuable.”

“I can remember everything I see and hear perfectly. Even things that pass by in a flash—all of it, crystal clear.”

Perfect recall, then.

People with such absurd abilities did exist, though extremely rarely. If the descriptions of certain historical figures in the history books were true.

Certainly, it was a useful ability.

The problem was that the process of obtaining it would be difficult and bothersome.

The Duke’s hand paused as he pulled out his pocket watch.

“Your Grace, it’s a complete lie! That little brat is just spouting nonsense to get your attention!”

“Are you short on money and want to lose your neck too?”

The count, now the landlord, was nothing more than an obstacle stuck between the guest and the maid. Heavy silence settled over the room.

The Duke closed the distance and observed the girl’s face.

The distance had grown much closer than before, his gaze even sharper, yet the girl didn’t avoid it. Brazenly, she met it head-on, putting strength into her eyes.

“If you’re lying, you’ll have to face the consequences.”

Crash!

The Duke overturned the chessboard the count had been playing with. White and black pieces rolled haphazardly across the floor with a clatter.

Crunch.

The Duke stepped on the black king without hesitation and looked down at the girl.

“Put it back the way it was. Exactly as it was at the beginning, as it was.”

She dared to propose a negotiation to him.

Then he would have to put this girl to the test.

* * *

Recalling that memory, the Duke slowly opened his eyes.

Outside the window, darkness had fallen. The light of the full moon seeped into the Duke’s study, illuminating the interior dimly.

The Duke pulled out a cigar from his drawer. It was one he hadn’t smoked in a very long time.

Not since he married Daphne, to be exact. It would be better to quit smoking for a woman’s pregnancy.

…He shouldn’t smoke now either.

He was about to light the cigar but instead threw the Zippo lighter onto the desk. The sharp metallic clang perfectly resembled his current state of mind.

The man leaned back roughly against his chair and ran his hand roughly through his dazzling blond hair. Even the movement of the hair flowing between his fingers seemed calculated.

“D*mn it.”

The man’s handsome face crumpled as he muttered a curse under his breath. Even that brought to mind the image of an artist agonizing beneath the moonlight.

The man roughly ran his hand over his face and muttered.

“…Absolutely not.”

Absolutely not.

Divorce, absolutely not.

In the life of a man whose temperament was only satisfied when he controlled everything perfectly without variables, a single variable was about to emerge.

Daphne.

The title “Duchess Seyfried” that followed that name—she would never remove it, not now, not in the future, not ever.

Divorce?

When she uttered that word, the man inwardly sneered.

Ridiculous.

No matter what she tried, she wouldn’t be able to escape from him.

Because that woman was a masterpiece he had crafted with all his might.

He had made her into a perfect woman. He had made her into a beloved duchess.

This should be enough, so what on earth was lacking?

“Well, I’ve already made my moves.”

Things wouldn’t go smoothly the way Daphne wanted anyway.

Soon Daphne would come up, realize what her contract husband had arranged in advance, and come storming in.

One second, two seconds.

Three seconds.

As footsteps echoed from beyond the study corridor, Astaire raised his eyes and stared coldly at the door.

The door burst open, and his lovely wife shouted with an agitated face.

“What’s going on? You’ve saddled me with another debt, Your Grace!”

This time, he intended to bind those delicate ankles with chains she could never remove.

“Good evening, Daphne.”

Astaire greeted Daphne with a leisurely smile. He even extended his hand, seemingly inviting her to dance together under the moonlight.

Daphne looked down coldly at the man’s hand.

Her conversation with the head butler earlier in the day was still vivid.

“He said that since you actually have more debts in your name, withdrawing from the contract is currently impossible.”

“What?”

In an instant, the blood in her entire body ran cold.

She’d definitely checked multiple times. That couldn’t be right.

“I haven’t heard anything about this. Can I check my account history?”

“Yes, I actually prepared it in advance.”

What stood out in the statement the head butler handed over was a familiar and utterly detestable name.

“…Brandley Shipping Company.”

Daphne spat out the name like she was chewing it. As the name suggested, it was a shipping company run by her father, Viscount Brandley.

The problem was that her father had started the business with a substantial investment from Astaire.

Right after Astaire and Daphne’s marriage, Viscount Brandley had boasted that the Empire’s greatest tycoon was investing in his business, but Daphne couldn’t be purely happy about it.

She herself had only found out by reading the front page of the Imperial Newspaper.

“Still, he’s the father of the Duchess and my father-in-law, so shouldn’t he at least have a decent business card?”

Then and now, the man’s cold sneer hadn’t changed.

It was sickening.

Even at the time of their marriage, no matter how much it was framed as a love marriage, she knew she was unqualified to become a duchess like this.

If you lack appearance, paint over it with money.

With that, Astaire had given his future father-in-law a company and invested massive funds.

People who knew nothing interpreted it as Duke Seyfried loving his fiancée so much that he even took care of her father. Reality was different.

“But the investment was from a year ago!”

“It was. But does the timing matter?”

She never imagined that receiving something unwanted from him would become shackles now.

“When I looked at the shipping company’s account books, they were pathetic.”

“…”

“It’s clearly my investment failure.”

Astaire spoke calmly, seemingly having foreseen this outcome.

Daphne wasn’t surprised by the result either. Her father was a terrible businessman.

Astaire couldn’t be unaware of that fact either.

He had pushed through with the investment solely because of Daphne.

“Do you know how much money I lent your father?”

Daphne squeezed her eyes shut.

“If you want, I can show you the detailed statement here too.”

“…Show me.”

Daphne took the statement from him and skimmed through it at once.

She could tell even at a glance.

As expected, her father still hadn’t quit gambling.

“The investment aside, you should at least repay the money you personally borrowed from me before leaving. Don’t you think so, Daphne?”

“…”

“I believe my wife is a person who knows propriety.”

Astaire knew well.

That she couldn’t escape like this.

Daphne wasn’t the type of person who could. She had a disposition that absolutely hated being indebted to others.

The Duke didn’t hesitate to exploit her weakness.

“I don’t ask for much. I just need my wife to stay by my side and get along well like before. Am I asking for something difficult?”

His narrowed eyes gazed coldly at Daphne. Daphne barely clasped her trembling hands together.

“B-but.”

“I think I’ve said enough. Can you leave? I have a lot of work piled up. If you need anything, feel free to talk to the head butler.”

Astaire unilaterally declared the conversation over.

Daphne had no choice but to leave his room, practically chased out.

Click.

Still gripping the closed doorknob, Daphne stood there for a long while.

Still, no tears came.

She knew the road ahead was too long to cry over just this much. Soon a clear light appeared in Daphne’s eyes.

She headed straight down to the first floor.

The next morning at dawn, Daphne called for a carriage as soon as day broke and headed somewhere.

* * *

Clatter, clatter.

The carriage rolled smoothly along the road without hitting any speed bumps.

Around that time, when she drew back the curtain, a residential area renowned as a wealthy neighborhood came into full view outside the window. Among them, a splendid four-story stone mansion stood tall in a spot with good sunlight.

It was excessively large and luxurious for the home of a viscount who had bought his title with money a few generations ago.

Looking at the mansion, Daphne felt suffocated for a moment.

That mansion too was a house Astaire had handed over to the viscount without receiving anything in return.

“It’s the Duchess Seyfried.”

As soon as the gatekeeper of the viscount’s house confirmed Daphne’s face, he opened the gate for her.

She’d worried she might have made a wasted trip, but fortunately or unfortunately, Viscount Theodore Brandley was currently in the mansion.

“D-Daphne?”

Theodore, who had been pouring whiskey into a glass, was startled to see his daughter. He stood up awkwardly, looking flustered.

“…You should have given me a heads-up that you were coming. I thought I was seeing things just now.”

“I think that might be your wishful thinking reflected.”

Daphne responded in a cold voice.

When she sat on the sofa across from the viscount, a maid hovered around the father and daughter carrying a teacup and teapot.

From her light gestures to her entire atmosphere, at some point she had come to resemble Astaire, her husband and patron, exactly.

Click.

The perceptive maid quietly closed the door and left. Now only Daphne and Viscount Brandley remained in the drawing room.

“I sent a letter this morning, but there was no reply, so I thought you weren’t at the mansion.”

“…Oh my. I’ll have to hold the postman accountable.”

Watching her fumbling father, Daphne didn’t hide her sneer. It was an obvious lie not worth pursuing.

Still, she could let this much slide.

But she couldn’t just overlook the fact that he had received a large sum of money from Astaire without even her, his daughter, knowing.

Especially if that money was to cover gambling debts.

“I heard you received something from His Grace again. Quite a lot, too.”

Crash!

The crystal glass that fell from the viscount’s hand shattered into pieces.

The floor became messy with broken fragments.

The viscount looked at his mistake with a pale face, then stammered an excuse to his daughter.

“The company suddenly had a large expense. You must know how it is. These things can happen in business… If His Grace had found it burdensome, he wouldn’t have readily given the money. Don’t worry too much. Our company recently received an export commission from the Imperial family—”

“That’s about the investment. What I’m talking about is your gambling debt, Father.”

The amount was at minimum about half a year’s budget for a decent noble house.