‘Sorry, Lorina. The naïve Eliza is dead.’

With that thought, she forced the corners of her lips back down before they could twist upward—only to end up wearing an oddly unreadable expression.

‘She left empty-handed that day. She’ll come again soon enough.’

Realizing Marie might notice, Eliza quickly smoothed her expression and spoke with deliberate hesitation.

“Marie, I have a favor to ask….”

“Yes, my lady?”

“It’s about his shirts. From now on, could you take a bit more care when pressing them? You’ve seen how I do it, haven’t you? Just a little more starch—enough that the sleeves feel sharp enough to cut when brushed against. And the front and back panels must be perfectly smooth, without a single flaw.”

“…!”

“And you know the pleats have to be exactly the same width, right?”

Eliza saw the flicker of fear in Marie’s eyes.

Marie had been employed by James even before his marriage, so she knew his habits well. She was terrified—because she knew she could never achieve that level of obsessive precision.

After all, ever since marrying Eliza, his standards had risen impossibly high.

But now, Eliza felt no guilt in assigning such inhuman labor to her.

So she pressed on calmly.

“Marie?”

“My lady, it’s not as though I don’t know the master’s temperament… No matter what I do, it will never satisfy him unless it’s you who pressed his shirts!”

If this had been the Eliza of yesterday, she would have relented at once upon seeing such a distressed expression.

‘You’re right. It’s better if I do it myself.’

But not today.

Feigning not to hear, yet maintaining the same careful tone as always, she continued,

“They’re high-quality shirts, so before you even touch the iron, take a deep breath. Be thorough and attentive. Just add a pinch more starch powder—no more. Otherwise, it’ll become too stiff and irritate his skin.”

“My lady…”

“Before we were married, this was something you did every day, wasn’t it?”

“….”

Marie’s brows knit together sharply as she searched Eliza’s face, as if asking—‘Are you serious? Truly?’

But even as time passed, Eliza showed no sign of backing down.

At last, Marie replied reluctantly,

“Yes….”

“Don’t forget to hang one neatly on the stand each day.”

With a troubled expression, Marie turned toward the kitchen.

Eliza, meanwhile, continued her meal—feeling just a little bit lighter.

“The soup is delicious, Marie. You can go home for today. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Yes… Please eat well, my lady.”

As Eliza listened to Marie leaving, she felt her stomach settle comfortably.

The simple fact that she had freed herself from meaningless labor brought her far more joy than she had expected.

***

The memories of her past life, left behind by that unknown presence, had brought about a remarkable change in Eliza.

A woman who had once known nothing but how to cherish her husband had, upon deciding to betray him, begun to face life with initiative and determination.

In the quiet living room that morning, after Marie had left, she immersed herself in planning her escape.

The task filled her with an overwhelming surge of energy.

At times, her gaze would fall on the embroidered wall hanging she had once made while praying for James’s health, and she would tremble with a sense of betrayal.

And in her mind, she lashed out at both James and Lorina.

‘James Ashton—you deserve to have your nose rot off in this bitter winter. And Lorina Winclare—you wretch, you ought to be steeped in poison and scrubbed raw with sandpaper.’

Until now, Eliza had always been the kind of person who, in uncomfortable situations, first looked for what she herself had done wrong.

But from now on, she decided she would believe that all the malice in the world originated from those two.

The thought that she had to abandon the home she had so carefully built over the years filled her with as much anger as the realization that her husband had never truly loved her—and would soon betray her with her friend.

Each time that bitterness surged, she forced herself to focus on practical matters instead—calculating the funds she would need for a fresh start.

Lost in such thoughts, she rose and made her way to James’s study.

Partly to stretch her legs but mostly to confirm whether everything was still as she remembered.

The moment she opened the door, the dry air inside made it feel as though she were stepping into the room for the first time in a century.

Or perhaps after an entire lifetime.

Shaking her head, Eliza surveyed the study.

The bookshelves lining the walls were filled not with decorative, antique literature, but with large dictionaries, scientific and technical volumes, and reports published by the Royal Academy—arranged unevenly in height.

The desk was piled high with newspapers and documents.

Passing the shelves, she crouched down in front of the iron safe tucked into the corner.

Then, slowly, she began turning the wheel—like the helm of a ship—aligning the numbers one by one.

The act stirred a strange tension within her.

Would the password still be the same?

0329.

The day they had first met in the center of Athern.

After their marriage, James had set it as the code, saying it was the most meaningful number in his life.

In her previous life, even when she had been abandoned in a paralyzed state, she had clung to that fact.

A banker who valued money above all else had chosen that number for his safe, surely it was proof of his love.

‘The one at fault is Lorina. If only he knew what had happened to me, he would come and save me. He would bring me home…’

But now, she understood.

She had been trapped in her own delusion.

0329 was nothing more than the remnant of a past emotion—nothing more.

0329.

Click.

Eliza flinched as the vibration of the safe unlocking traveled through her fingertips.

‘It’s the same. Nothing has changed.’

As she pulled the door open, an inexplicable swell of emotion rose within her.

“Why should Lorina Winclaire be the only villain?”

It was nothing more than a quiet murmur to herself, yet something inside her—something that had long felt tight and suffocating—seemed to loosen.

She swallowed as she looked inside the safe.

On the upper shelf were thick bundles of cash and neatly stacked documents.

On the lower shelf lay gold bars and several elegant wooden boxes—items that had clearly not been touched in a long time.

She reached for one of the long wooden boxes and opened it.

Inside, the diamond necklace James had given her for her birthday last year still gleamed brilliantly.

She knew how hard he worked.

That was why she had never dared to wear the jewelry he gave her.

After wearing it once on her birthday, it had remained in the safe ever since.

‘…I would have been happy if you had just come home early.’

Even if he had picked a single wildflower from the roadside and given it to her, she would have been happy.

But he had never cared about what she wanted.

To others, these expensive gifts might look like proof of his love—but in truth, they were nothing more than displays of his own success.

“James. You fool.”

She muttered softly, already deciding that she would sell all of it.

There was no reason to preserve them, only for them to end up in Lorina’s hands later, looking as good as new.

After remarrying, Lorina had put them up for charity auctions, to erase any trace of the former wife.

Selling them and using the money for herself would be far better.

Just then, the sound of a carriage stopping in front of the house reached her ears.

Startled like a guilty thief, she slammed the safe shut.

‘Lorina?’

She had a peculiar ability, she could distinguish carriages by their sound.

Lorina, a wealthy noblewoman, always rode in her family’s carriage, while James commuted in one provided by the bank.

Her ears could tell the difference.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Quickly spinning the dial of the safe shut, Eliza took a moment to steady her racing heart with a deep breath.

Then she headed downstairs.

Her steps were resolute.

***

Standing by the entrance, Eliza closed her eyes and began counting as Lorina rang the bell.

One. Two. Three.

Then, with a bright smile, she opened the door.

Lorina Winclaire stood there in a deep purple velvet dress, smiling radiantly.

“Eliza! I’m not disturbing you while you’re resting, am I?”

“Lorina!”

“Are you feeling alright? Did you receive the bouquet I sent? After sending it, I worried it might have been too heavy.”

‘For someone who collapsed, would she really receive such a large bouquet herself?’

Holding onto the door, Eliza smiled back at her.

She felt a quiet sense of relief—she could fake a smile more easily than she had expected, even in front of the woman who had tried to kill her and steal her husband.

But though she knew she should step aside, her feet refused to move.

To let Lorina Winclaire—the devil herself—into her precious space…

The Lorina she saw again now—a feline beauty with reddish-brown hair, rich with crimson tones—looked capable of conquering any man.

And simply looking at her was enough to sour Eliza’s mood.

And that purple velvet dress.

‘She couldn’t show it off last time, so she came wearing it again?’

For a moment, Eliza wanted to tell the only daughter of one of Athern’s most powerful families,

‘That dress doesn’t suit you at all.’

But this wasn’t the time.

She had no choice.

When Lorina tilted her head, puzzled by Eliza not letting her in, Eliza finally stepped aside with a smile.

“Come in. And yes, I received the flowers. Thanks to them, I feel like I’ve recovered quickly. Thank you.”

“Of course, Eliza. I’m your only friend, after all.”

‘Only friend.’

Eliza had much to say about that.

Now that she was looking at her life from a new perspective, it was stained with disaster.

A disaster named Lorina Winclaire.

‘Exactly. How did it come to this, that you’re the only friend I have left, Lorina?’

Unaware of anything, Lorina stepped inside and spoke as brightly as ever,

“I happened to be in town, so I had my carriage turn this way. I simply couldn’t put my mind at ease without seeing for myself that you’ve recovered.”