“…Pardon?”

“‘Athern’s Prodigal Son.’ Some call him a romantic of the century, but that’s just flattery from sycophants.”

“……”

“He knew who I was. And he knew who you were as well.”

A chill ran down Eliza’s spine.

“Mr. Ashton. Then may I take my leave?”

Only now did she realize—Deonar had recognized James before they had even properly introduced themselves.

In silence, James resented her. The ominous feeling he’d had about his wife before leaving the house had come true, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

‘Why can’t you just leave me alone?’

Stammering, she tried to explain.

“You’re well-known, so…”

James cut her off with a scoff.

“Eliza, you don’t understand what kind of creatures blue bloods are. No—you don’t understand men.”

“……”

James didn’t want to speak further in his anger. But when he saw Eliza looking at him with tearful eyes, he couldn’t stop himself.

She was like a child left unattended near water.

Grinding his teeth, he said,

“Swear it to me. If you ever run into that man again, you’ll leave immediately.”

“James…”

Eliza continued to look at him with those trembling, tearful eyes as she thought,

‘Maybe I don’t understand nobles—but I think I understand men now. D*mn it… You should start by keeping your own marriage vows. The ones about loving and protecting your wife until death!’

The possessiveness James showed toward a wife he would eventually discard filled her with irritation—and anger.

The urge to lash out sharply churned inside her like trapped gas, swelling and restless.

But she forced herself to swallow it down, remembering the poisoned tea from her previous life.

“Yes. I will… Are we going home?”

‘So you’re sleeping at home tonight?’

At her question, James let out an incredulous scoff and turned his gaze out the window. Embarrassed at having her thoughts exposed, she muttered,

“I was worried you might go back to the bank at this hour…”

***

At dawn the next day, James stood looking down at his sleeping wife, caught in a tangle of conflicting emotions.

Eliza slept as if she had fainted—her small lips slightly parted, her posture completely defenseless. She looked like a tiny bird. A bird that seemed to carry a quiet magic, one that calmed the ever-tense body and mind he lived with.

He recalled how openly he had shown his anger toward her the night before, and felt a faint trace of regret.

In truth, he had been in a fairly good mood until he left the bar.

Unlike Count Winclaire, the young Marquis Phelin was a straightforward man, and through their conversation at the club bar, James had grown confident that even after the nobles’ joint investment was concluded, he would be able to continue doing business with the marquis.

Moreover, it had been so long since he had gone out with his wife that he couldn’t even remember the last time—and the evening had gone smoothly enough to leave him slightly buoyant.

He had wanted it to end just like that. After returning home, he had planned to share a glass of wine with her and then take her into his arms.

But in the end, that man had appeared and ruined everything.

‘Viscount Goodwin, of all people!’

James had no intention of believing that a man like Goodwin—who treated Athern’s major social clubs as his own home—had simply entered the wrong room.

Looking down at Eliza, he thought,

‘Of course any man would look twice at her.’

She truly knew nothing about men. Knowing that, he couldn’t blame her for believing the excuses of that notorious noble.

It only meant more work for him.

But he was far too busy to keep his wife constantly within his sight and under his protection. He could already sense that he was standing at a decisive turning point in his career.

‘I should be focusing even more… and yet, because of someone like him…’

Narrowing his eyes in dissatisfaction, he stared down at his sleeping wife—then realized that he was far more on edge than usual.

After a long moment of silent contemplation, he understood why.

It was because of the subtle changes she had been showing lately. What had happened yesterday was merely the trigger.

She, who had always avoided social engagements, had suddenly begun arranging matches among nobles—and then there was the Swan Club…

Yesterday, she hadn’t merely adapted to the atmosphere—she had shown a certain liveliness.

She had even displayed a kind of confidence in front of Miss Winclaire, refusing to shrink back.

It was hard to understand how someone capable of that had once withdrawn into herself like a frightened snail, retreating inward at every turn.

But what mattered was now.

He had a feeling her changes wouldn’t stop here, that they would continue, reaching somewhere he had never even imagined.

That premonition made him even more tense—yet at the same time, it stirred a strange, unfamiliar excitement.

He was the kind of man who did not hesitate to push himself to the brink—whether for work or out of concern for his wife.

“…?”

But the moment he realized that this also meant she would be exposed to more men outside, a low groan slipped between his pressed lips.

There was nothing to guarantee that what happened yesterday wouldn’t happen again.

After three years of marriage, the woman who had once looked only at him—sometimes to the point of suffocating him—was now troubling him for the exact opposite reason.

“…Hah.”

To his eyes, Eliza looked like a small child with a pretty ribbon in her hair. And that child would, without hesitation, follow along with any sly adult offering her candy.

Unless the world itself turned upside down, she would never betray him. The real problem was those “sly adults.”

Checking that it was nearly time to rise, he got out of bed.

‘For the time being, I should call her to the bank more often.’

***

In the carriage on the way to the bank, James briefly folded the newspaper he had been reading while watching the rising sun.

As he thought over the tasks he needed to handle today, his mind drifted to Aedrin Phelin—and from there, to their conversation at the Swan Club the night before.

At the bar, the young marquis had told him about secretly meeting his wife.

“When Mrs. Ashton looked straight at me and asked her question, I was almost frightened. She asked, ‘Do you intend to propose to Lorina?’”

At first, James had thought the marquis was exaggerating wildly—so much so that it made him question whether the man could be trusted.

Because his wife was not someone who could ever look a stranger in the eye and question him so directly.

But the marquis had no reason to lie. He simply held a favorable impression of Eliza for helping him with Miss Winclaire.

‘So Eliza shows a different side of herself when I’m not around…’

He let out a faint scoff at the mild displeasure that thought brought—but decided it was not necessarily a bad thing.

‘Eliza. Next year, we’re moving to the East District.’

If his plans succeeded and they moved into a residence in the East District, then the Eliza he saw now might be able to stand among the strong-willed noblewomen there without concern.

With a sense of satisfaction, he unfolded the newspaper again.

“Ah, I should place an order for jewelry.”

***

When Eliza woke from her late sleep, Marie brought a tray with her meal to the bedside.

“Marie?”

Surprised by something she hadn’t asked for, Eliza looked at her. Marie beamed.

“The master told me to bring your meal to the bedroom, ma’am. Isn’t he thoughtful?”

“……”

Marie left, still looking oddly pleased. Eliza quietly looked down at the steaming mushroom soup and soft bread.

‘After everything that happened yesterday, he does this? …He didn’t put anything strange in it, did he?’

Without realizing it, she drew in a deep breath and smelled the food. But that only made her hunger worse.

In truth, poisoning wasn’t James’s style.

‘He’s the type who watches someone fall into a trap he set—knowing they can’t escape—and calmly witnesses their ruin.’

—Grrr…

Overcome by hunger, she took a spoonful of soup. And then she realized that his consideration hadn’t been limited to this morning.

‘Even yesterday…’

Last night, James had been a remarkably good husband. Not because of polished manners, but because he had paid attention to her—carefully, without pause.

It had felt different from merely trying to present themselves as a proper couple in front of a client.

Come to think of it, he had been like that during their early days of marriage.

‘It feels so distant now… like something from a long time ago. …We haven’t even spent time together.’

She felt a dull heaviness at the thought that, had she not remembered her previous life, she might have begun to love him more from last night onward.

‘Anyone would see him as a perfect man.’

Tearing the bread apart, she shook her head.

‘Maybe, for now, he still thinks of me as his wife. But the moment Lorina reaches out her hand, you’ll take it.’

“The one you love most isn’t me—it’s your ambition.”

Resolving not to be swayed by the illusion he created, she shook her head again.

Then she turned her focus to the increasingly complicated situation around her since last night.

Lorina must have realized by now that her convenient Eliza was no longer as obedient as before.
And through her connection with Aedrin, it had become much easier for her to approach James.

And then there was Deonar, who clearly seemed far from sane.

‘To think he’d just appear like that… What if we run into each other again?’

A worried expression crossed her face as she realized she might not have as much time as she had hoped.

“I suppose I’ll have to push the real estate agent a little harder.”