Chapter 2

As Olivia looked out the carriage window, Annie’s voice interrupted.

“Madam, how are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“You’re not sleeping more?”

Olivia shook her head. She had dozed off, but it was hard to sleep soundly in the gently rocking carriage. Annie, sitting opposite, tried to close the curtains, but Olivia shook her head. The long-tailed sunlight slanted over her crown. It was already midsummer, the longest days of the year. It was hard to guess the time.

When Olivia asked, Annie answered promptly.

“How long has it been since we left the townhouse?”

“About half a day.”

Olivia quickly calculated. The quick-handed maids had loaded their luggage onto the carriage around ten in the morning, so it was now about three or four in the afternoon. The journey from the capital to the estate took two days of nonstop riding. If they stopped for water and rested at inns, it could take up to three days.

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She wanted to return to the estate as soon as possible. She wished to change into comfortable clothes and stroll through the garden, where by now the blue hydrangeas must be in full bloom, or to lean back on the couch in the library and read the book she had left unfinished before coming to the capital. As always, it was dreadful to be trapped in the stifling townhouse, waiting for the social season to end, like a gloomy chaperone sent to watch over a young lady at a ball.

Naturally, Olivia thought about her age. Before she knew it, she had repeated this for ten years.

In fact, it had been twelve years. She had been doing this ever since her debutante at fifteen. Of course, her circumstances were a bit different then. She had danced waltz after waltz, her shoes worn down, wrapped in dazzling gifts over her shell. She held hands with noble youths she didn’t even know, again and again.

All the while wishing—hoping anyone would ‘buy’ her.

After two years, when she turned seventeen, it was Lenahan who took her hand. Someone she hadn’t even dared hope for.

For a while, Olivia felt as if she had become the soot-stained girl from a fairy tale. She suddenly gave a bitter smile. She had been so naïve back then.

“Are you bored?”

“A little.”

Annie paused her embroidery, placing her hands on her lap and asked. Olivia answered absent-mindedly, turning her gaze back to the window. If it were midwinter, dusk would have already fallen, but the sun was only slightly tilted, still high in the sky. She was relieved; the view would have been a shame if the sun had set.

Just outside the capital, endless plains stretched in all directions. The newly paved road had some scattered stones here and there, but was mostly smooth, and the landscape on both sides of the road was wide open, making her feel a little less stifled. Suddenly, she recalled the day she and Lenahan first traveled to the capital together after their marriage.

It was an official occasion to receive the King’s blessing as a married couple, so there was much to prepare. Three carriages loaded with tributes for the King, countless jewelry, shoes, and dresses to change into for the banquet, as well as two carriages for the servants from the main house. The procession consisted of six carriages, led by the one Olivia and Lenahan rode.

Lenahan, sitting across from her, reached out and held her tense hand. He quietly put aside his book, moved to sit next to her.

—Olivia, you don’t look well. Are you feeling unwell?

—Just… I think I’m a little carsick.

Despite their packed schedule, Lenahan immediately opened the window and called the coachman to stop. He picked up a cushion from the opposite seat. She thought he might simply give her the cushion as a pillow and return to his seat, but instead, he placed it where he had been sitting and pointed to his own thigh.

—Lie down here.

—Lenahan?

Startled, Olivia asked, but he gently pulled her arm, guiding her to lie down.

—If you sleep, we’ll arrive in no time.

His unexpected action made her body freeze. She felt even more uncomfortable than before. Even her mother had never shown her such intimate affection. They had only been married a month.

—……

But after a moment, perhaps because humans quickly adapt, her tense body relaxed, and she felt comfortable. Lenahan looked down at her, covering her eyes with his palm—a gentle touch.

—Get some sleep.

—Will we arrive when I wake up?

—Probably.

—Then, I won’t refuse…

They chatted like old childhood friends, and Olivia’s eyes slowly closed. Just before her eyelids shut, Lenahan smiled softly and whispered.

—Sweet dreams, Madame.

Was it also such a long day back then? She couldn’t remember. The carriage was cozy, and that was enough. The space with Lenahan was another world, separated from everything outside.

Three years after marriage, her husband started sitting on the seat directly across from her.

Their relationship had grown cold, but the silence wasn’t suffocating. He treated her like any ordinary husband—a suitable indifference and silence. Occasional small talk at the start of the journey soon faded. Even though his body was in the same carriage, she knew his heart was already with that woman who would soon follow.

Looking back, it was a petty revenge. She behaved calmly, like a third party, always a step away from them, but Olivia was neither a devoted wife nor a generous saint. For seven years, Heather Genoa drank tea every day—a contraceptive tea Olivia made herself, blended with leaves harmless to a woman’s body. It wasn’t a scheme or a plot. A week after Heather first set foot in the Terez estate, Olivia herself visited and bluntly informed her.

—Miss Genoa, I can tolerate my husband’s mistress, but not his illegitimate child.

She couldn’t bring herself to call her ‘Lady’. Background didn’t matter. Even if Heather were a noble, she was nothing to Olivia—just the woman her husband brought home.

That was the limit of Olivia’s act of indifference. She was a shallow woman. Heather accepted the tea without protest. As if she didn’t care if Lenahan ever tired of her and cast her out, or as if such tricks were too petty to bother her.

She didn’t know who spread the news, but a few days later at dinner, Lenahan suddenly spoke.

—You’ve done something amusing.

—…That…

Olivia knew instantly what he meant. Unable to reply, she watched as he set down his cutlery and stood.

—Since you can’t conceive, try being a little more enthusiastic in bed.

His approaching steps felt like those of a grim reaper. Her hands trembled. She felt exposed, as if standing n*ked before him. He knew exactly how to say things to make someone feel most miserable.

—Who knows? Instead of an illegitimate child, maybe we’ll adopt from a branch family as you wish.

She couldn’t believe her eyes and ears. Was this really the man she once knew? Could love change so much? Or had he ever loved her at all? She wanted to collapse, scream, and curse him, but her body was cold as ice, even though her mind felt ready to burst. He took her hand and dragged her to the bedroom.

It was a brutal night.

Conflicting memories clung to her, impossible to erase, like stains. She felt as if she were drowning in a swamp.

It was then that she heard a voice.

“Madam!”

“…Annie.”

“Are you aright? You’re sweating…”

“I’m fine.”

Annie’s shout snapped Olivia out of her thoughts. She stopped Annie’s hand as she reached for a handkerchief, and at that moment, the carriage shook violently and suddenly stopped. The horses neighed in surprise. Something was wrong. The coachman got down and knocked on the carriage door. Annie opened the door, and he stood there, looking troubled.

“What happened just now, Sir?”

“It rained yesterday, so the ground is soft. I think the wheel slipped into a hole.”

“What? What should we do? This is bad, Madam.”

Annie turned to Olivia, worried.

“Well, the wheel’s too heavy for you to lift alone, and it’s just us in the carriage…”

Olivia fell silent, thinking. Was there a village nearby? She had never stopped in this area before, so she didn’t know. But it was fine; she had money, so all she needed was labor. Given the size of the carriage, a couple of strong men would suffice.

She quickly reached a conclusion.

“We’ll need to fetch workers from the nearest village.”

“I’ll go look around, then.”

The coachman bowed slightly, as if awaiting her order, and turned to leave.

Hiiing!

Suddenly, hoofbeats sounded, and someone dismounted nearby. The movement was quick and precise. The sun was still up and the road wide open, so it was unlikely to be a bandit or a criminal, but Olivia instinctively tensed. Footsteps approached. Judging by the coachman’s calm reaction, the newcomer didn’t seem dangerous.

The coachman closed the carriage door and asked cautiously,

“Who are you?”

The footsteps stopped.

“Just a passerby.”

A young man’s voice replied. It was low, deep, and resonant.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

He spoke with perfect politeness. Through the curtain, Olivia glimpsed his profile. He was strikingly handsome—tall and masculine, with ash-blonde hair tinged with gray and unreadable black eyes.

Strangely, he seemed vaguely familiar.