Barbara really had no face to show to her daughter- in-law. Nor, of course, did her daughter-in-law.

“You must be tired. Go inside. You’ve had a hard day.”

“Good night, Mother.”

Regina called to Barbara, who disappeared as if fleeing the scene.

As advised, she went to bed early, but sleep didn’t come. Even after the moon had crossed midnight and continued for several more hours, Grey still hadn’t returned. Regina stood at the window, staring out into the all too quiet night, unable to suppress the fear that was eating away at her.

Was Grey still with Nadeira?

Did he find her more attractive than me?

What if he regretted choosing me over her?

Why am I even worrying about this?

This is a painful relationship and there is nothing left to do but let it go.

Trapped in her tangled emotions, she rocked back and forth, feeling emotionally seasick.

At dawn, as long rays of sunlight began to spread across the ground, Grey’s carriage finally returned. Holding her breath, Regina listened to the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs.

By now, Finley had surely reported everything that had happened.

If Grey cared about her at all, it would be natural for him to stop by and check on her condition, however briefly. But as always, the sound of his hard-soled shoes passed her bedroom without a pause.

‘Ah.’

Regina forced her heavy, tired eyelids shut.

‘You really don’t care about me at all, do you?’

Well, it made sense. After all, it was she who had fallen in love with Grey at first sight, who had followed him with desperate, longing eyes, and who had agreed to marry him the moment he proposed – almost as if she’d been waiting for it.

A woman who was too easy to reach—someone who gave herself to him without needing to be pursued. Like a wild weed that took root and flourished without him ever tending the soil or offering a drop of care.

If there was any meaning to be found, perhaps it was in the fact that she had chosen to settle in the soil of her choice. Since it was her choice, she had no right to complain, no matter how dry or barren the treatment.

Still, what she wanted was to become his one and only innocent flower.

How foolish of me, wasn’t it?

***

Some memories are as vivid in the mind as a book that’s been read too many times. The pages, crumpled and worn from repeated folding, would open on their own at the slightest provocation – urging her to read them again.

For Regina, the day she first met her husband was such a memory. Like tracing the rings of a tree with her fingertips, all she had to do was lower her head and the sensations of that day would come flooding back with startling clarity.

It was her first social season. Every unmarried young woman in Wailin travelled to the capital in search of a suitor. Regina Odair was no exception.

“Don’t put too much hope in men, my dear niece.”

This was the advice of her aunt, Roselyn. Roselyn had agreed to be Regina’s chaperone after discovering her own husband’s affair of more than twenty years. She had accompanied Regina on her journey to the capital, as if fleeing her ruined marriage.

“Men are born hunters, lifeless prey or caged animals are of no interest to them.”

The look in Roselyn’s eyes as she said this was chilling – so empty and hollow they reminded Regina of a taxidermied stag.

It took about a week by coach to reach Riddenborough, and Roselyn spent almost the entire journey tormenting Regina with a relentless stream of bleak, almost brainwashing cynicism.

Still young and inexperienced in love, Regina arrived thoroughly intimidated. She’d spent the entire trip building strong emotional walls – but in the end, the social scene she’d entered wasn’t nearly as terrifying as she’d imagined.

Each morning began with lunch at a different estate, followed by walks, sports or art exhibitions. In the evenings there were dinners and grand balls. In the midst of all this, she met countless young men, exchanging greetings and taking each other’s measure.

There were a few handsome men who caught her eye, even stirred her heart a little – but not enough to stake her future on any of them.

Regina had carefully worked out her own plan. She had chosen a few candidates with whom she could have a moderately successful marriage, and intended to focus on meeting them for the rest of the season. Surely one of them would propose.

It was her life, so she thought everything would go according to plan. How arrogant and naive she had been.

“The Count of Cabil, Lord Grey, is entering the room!”

Anglers often say that some fish have fins so strong that they can change the flow of water in an instant.

Grey Cabil was one of them.

The moment his name was announced, the previously warm and pleasantly dull atmosphere of the ballroom instantly sharpened. It was like throwing fresh meat into a pack of dozing hyenas.

“Well, well. I guess even the mighty Wailin is finished. Granting a noble title to a man who used to count banknotes for a living?”

“A man without class. He’s like the walking dead of money.”

A stone that has been in the ground for a long time doesn’t welcome a new one. For the old aristocracy, bourgeois men buying their way into status was one of their greatest fears.

But this wasn’t just any rich man.

Once Grey became the owner of the Bank of Cabil, which held the purse strings of the entire kingdom, he could no longer be dismissed as a mere merchant. The Wailin royal family, seeing no other way to claim him for the nation, reluctantly granted him a title – like swallowing a bitter lime through tears.

A new loach had entered water so stagnant it had begun to rot. A harsh initiation was almost inevitable.

“Don’t even talk to that vulgar upstart, Regina.”

Roselyn hissed like a porcupine with its quills fully up.

“Just because he’s bought himself a title doesn’t mean he’s to be treated as an equal among gentlemen and ladies of noble birth. That merchant may be strutting around now, but it won’t be long before he realises the truth and bows his head in shame.”

“He is already bowing, Countess of Cabil.”

A tall man suddenly appeared between the gaps in the crowd. True to his word, he stood in a hunched posture as he looked down, a cool, icy smile playing on his lips.

“It’s been a while, but your voice is as loud as ever. I’m glad to see you so full of life.”

Regina stared blankly at the man who had barged in like an uninvited guest in the middle of the night.

Was this what it felt like to misstep and fall straight into deep water?

All the noise around her faded into a muffled blur, and the surroundings bled like a watercolour soaked in too much water. In the midst of it all, Grey Cabil stood out, glowing as if he had stolen all the colour and light from the ballroom.

His beauty was so striking that it almost felt like an attack – scattering Regina’s thoughts like blossoms caught in a gust of wind. In the kaleidoscope of vision that blossomed as if someone had squeezed her eyelids shut and then released them, he alone remained dazzlingly clear.

‘What… what is this? What’s happening to me?’

Even as Regina stood dazed, he was exchanging barbed words with Roselyn.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, you rude, uncouth man! We were kind enough to invite someone who reeks of cheap banknotes, and you eavesdrop on other people’s conversations?”

“I assumed you were talking loudly so I could hear. You shout louder than a fishmonger on the docks. I hope your husband, the Count of Corwell, is as lively as you are.”

“W-What did you just say?!”

“Oh dear. Was he lively enough? He seems to be enjoying himself quite a lot these days.”

The winner was almost certain – Grey Cabil. The moment he mentioned Roselyn’s adulterous husband, her face flushed with anger and she raised her hand.

“You shameless scoundrel! How dare you say such a thing!”

Grey smiled brightly, his pearly teeth flashing. The audacity of it all, offering his face as if he would gladly take the blow, left Regina utterly shocked.

“Aunt Roselyn, please calm down!”

“Let go of me! I will teach this insolent brute a lesson today!”

“There are too many eyes watching, please. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

As she held her aunt back, practically wrapping her arms around her, Regina suddenly felt a gaze upon her.

Grey Cabil was watching her – his eyes studying her as if he were observing something unfamiliar.

That indifferent gaze moved from her face to the curve of her neck, down her shoulders to her feet, rolling over her like grains of sand.

It was the look one might give to a mere pebble found between rocks – nothing more. Yet somehow the look unsettled her, causing her body to sway along with her shaken composure.

In that split second of distraction, her ankle twisted completely beneath her in her high ballroom heels.

“Ow!”