Perhaps the only thing she and Lorina had in common was their helpless dependence on James and their obsession with him.

That was how dangerous his charm was.

Now that Eliza had finally broken free of it, the emptiness and quiet loneliness she felt were overwhelming.

Thinking of Aedrin Phelin, whom she had met earlier that day, Eliza found herself hoping that he might at least slow Lorina’s progress towards James.

If Lorina’s connection with Aedrin became known, she might hesitate to follow her father’s wishes — if only to protect her own image.

Burdened by his aristocratic pride and deep-seated inferiority towards true nobles, James would likely feel an even greater distance from a woman who had once almost become part of that world.

“Ah—!”

At that moment, Eliza spotted the notebook wedged between the bedframe and mattress, and a chill ran through her.

‘Last night, when James—’

“If I leave it like this, he’ll find it.”

She waited until Marie had left, then went to the kitchen and ripped the pages out of the notebook. She burned them one by one. She had already committed their contents to memory.

Just as she had almost finished, she heard the sound of a carriage stopping outside the house.

It was James.

“D*mn it… he’s back again?”

Her legs tingled as she hurried to the entrance. She flung the door open and broke into a bright smile—like an actress forcing a performance she wasn’t good at.

“James! You’re back early again today?”

“My schedule got tangled. Thanks to those Silomon bastards.”

“If it’s about the resource development agreement, I’m sure it will be resolved soon. Have you had dinner?”

“…”

James stepped inside but didn’t move any further.

Startled, Eliza lifted her head to look at him, meeting his steady gaze.

It was enough to make anyone shrink.

He looked at her as though he were a detective examining a suspect or a husband beginning to doubt his unfaithful wife.

“…James?”

Tilting his brow ever so slightly, he asked, his tone probing,

“Why?”

“Pardon?”

“Why do you think it will be resolved? Solimon has even refused to receive our delegation.”

“I—Is that so?”

Eliza bit her lip before she could stop herself, and James watched her without even blinking.

Her heart began to race.

Then, in a low voice, he asked—

“Didn’t I think you had no interest in my work?”

‘Enough already…!’

Inside, Eliza felt a wave of exhaustion, but she forced herself to steady her expression.

‘Figures. A man cheating with a sociopath—of course even a kind word isn’t enough. Picking at every little thing…’

Avoiding his gaze, she spoke in a subdued voice,

“Well… it’s just that I’m always rooting for you. I pray for your success every day.”

James stared at her, then let out a breath laced with ridicule.

“You sound like you’re soothing a child.”

“…!”

The casual contempt in his tone cut sharply, as if it might slice through her.

So much for her resolve never to be hurt by him again.

‘You’ve always found me laughable, haven’t you?’

A surge of emotion rose within her, but she masked it, adding timidly, as if unsure,

“Right now, the hardliners in Solimon may have the upper hand, but things could change… After the rainy season, the situation might shift in one direction or another…”

“…”

Unaware, Eliza continued speaking—while James listened, struck by something unexpected.

“Since when did you become so knowledgeable about Solimon?”

‘If you knew how much more I know, you’d be even more surprised, James.’

The suspicion filling his gaze was so intense it almost resembled that of a man doubting his wife’s fidelity.

Caught off guard, Eliza hastily covered,

“I read it in the newspaper. I don’t know much beyond that.”

However, James knew that none of the recent papers in Athern had mentioned Silomon’s rainy season.

He had studied every available report related to Silomon.

Today, he finally received word that the ship carrying his documents had been caught in a sudden storm at sea and was delayed.

The rainy season and typhoon period in Silomon were still a month or two away. But this year, something was different.

‘Did I get away with it?’

Hiding her tension, Eliza smiled sweetly.

James narrowed his eyes at her, then said,

“Have a simple meal prepared.”

“Yes. You should change first.”

Eliza turned around sharply, startled by the faintest rustle.

This small, instinctive movement unexpectedly stirred something in James.

Her words had made him feel, if only for a moment, as though she had been considering the Silomon matter alongside him.

The fact that she could create such an impression left him quietly shaken.

Eliza quickly turned away, trying to hide the frantic beating of her heart.

“Oh—!”

But James suddenly wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in. Startled, she was drawn into his embrace.

“James?”

“In a moment.”

“Ja—!”

Leaning down, James captured her lower lip as he murmured, carrying her up the stairs without giving her a chance to react,

“During this rainy season… I suppose I should enjoy myself as well.”

Eliza tried to say something, but James swallowed her protest as though it were nothing worth hearing.

***

Late that night, James looked down at his sleeping wife, a faint crease forming between his brows.

‘Eliza…’

The first time he saw her, she was deathly pale.

The moment their eyes met, she froze as if she might shatter at any moment, and then collapsed as if made of frost, dissolving into nothing.

That had been about three years ago.

Riding hard towards the southern port to catch a departing ship, James assumed that any pedestrian would step aside. But when she didn’t move, he pulled the reins sharply.

The frightened woman fainted the instant his horse reared up and stopped in front of her.

Only after she had regained consciousness did he learn the reason why: when she was a child, she had nearly been trampled by a horse, and ever since, she had lived with a deep, paralyzing fear of them.

James took the unidentified woman to his home and made sure she received treatment.

Dr Phillips said that it all depended on whether she woke up by the next day.

James stayed by her side through the night, wide awake and silently willing her to open her eyes.

‘Wake up, d*mn it. Don’t ruin someone else’s life.’

He had been terrified that he might have killed her.

He had only just begun to find his feet on the path to success, and now this woman was threatening to throw it all away. He had to resist the urge to shake her awake and demand to know what she thought she was doing to him.

At the same time, he was furious at the thought that the official carrying crucial investment information had probably already left the southern port and was now out at sea.

He would have no choice but to rely on luck to some extent.

And yet, as he sat watching her sleep, his greed and anger slowly faded away, sinking into silence like the ocean at night.

Only then did he truly see her.

Her fine yet full hair, like strands of gold, spread across the pillow without looking disheveled. There was something strangely mesmerizing about it.

Her small, softly curved lips, faintly pouting, made him wonder what her voice would sound like when it passed between them.

Her cheeks still held a touch of youthful softness, and her delicate chin gave her an almost ethereal quality — like something fragile and unfamiliar, a fairy that might vanish at any moment.

Even the gentle slope of her narrow shoulders added to that impression.

James Ashton had never taken a personal interest in anyone before.

He was a man who dealt in money and numbers.

In that world, appearances meant nothing at all.

Yet, as he gazed at her pale face, a strange longing took root within him: the desire to see color return to her bloodless cheeks. As he waited for that moment, he found himself anticipating the coming morning with a quiet reverence unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

Then, at dawn, when the woman who had stirred such an exception in him finally opened her eyes, he instinctively lifted his gaze and looked out of the window. He was startled by a feeling he could not name.

At that exact moment, the first light of sunrise broke across the sky and fell upon his face. He frowned faintly and closed his eyes against the sudden brightness.

At the same time, she spoke, her voice trembling softly with fear.

“Who are you?”

After he had explained the situation, she seemed reassured and fell back asleep soon afterwards.

Relieved, he too fell asleep.

Looking down at the exhausted Eliza, James let out a quiet, amused sigh as he watched her sleep.

‘Perhaps now… it’s my turn to ask.’

‘Who are you?’

The realization that Eliza knew something about his work had shaken him more than he cared to admit.

It was an oddly… intriguing feeling.

Because until now, he had believed she had no interest in him whatsoever—beyond fulfilling her duties as his wife.

‘She reads the newspaper so carefully… behind my back?’

At the same time, it made him feel uneasy.

Although the newspapers had recently been filled with talk of negotiations with the Kingdom of Silomon, most people would not link that to the region’s rainy season.

In truth, he himself had only begun to consider that possibility that day, instructing that the relevant documents be gathered before he returned home.

As that thought settled in, a new suspicion quietly took shape.

‘Then does that mean Eliza has known all along what I’ve been exhausting myself over—day and night—and simply pretended not to?’

‘All this time, even with topics to discuss across the dinner table, did she repeat the same words every time she saw me?’

“Have you eaten?”

“I’ll prepare some hot water for you, James. Is there anything else you need?”

‘…But why?’

He narrowed his eyes.

‘And why… did she act differently today?’

This line of thinking led nowhere, leaving only confusion in its wake.

Except for one undeniable truth.

A crack had begun to form in the carefully crafted image of his wife of the past three years.

James despised idleness.

Like a lion that would expend all its strength to catch a single rabbit, he was not a restrained man.

And so, lately, his wife’s behavior — sleeping in and failing to appear at the breakfast table — had begun to trouble him deeply.

‘And that half-finished shirt again…!’