The once meek and obedient duchess, Rosie Benedict, had suddenly changed.

“I don’t want to share a bed with you tonight.”

With that single sentence, all preparations for celebrating the safe return of Duke Callios Benedict came to a halt.

Her mother-in-law, Isabella, stared at her in disbelief. Her son, Pante, scraped his fork across his plate. Her sister-in-law, Ashley, flinched and looked around, startled by the sudden tension.

Amid the confusion, there was only one person who remained silent: Callios.

Her husband, Callios, was hailed as a war hero of the Nordval Empire — and feared as much as a monster.

Beneath his neatly combed black hair, his dark eyes slowly narrowed.

Rosie took brief satisfaction in the way the emotionless man’s smooth expression twitched, even if only for a moment.

Amidst the family’s various reactions, Callios, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke.

“Why?”

“I’m not feeling well.”

Isabella could no longer hold back. Her hands slammed against the table—thud.

“Have you already forgotten the filthy nickname society mocks you with? How dare you—!”

“Callios.”

Ignoring her mother-in-law’s voice beside her, Rosie simply said what she had come to say.

“Just because we share a bed doesn’t mean we’ll have a child. You should give up.”

It was a lie.

She knew very well that the child would be conceived that night.

She knew this because she had come from the future.

At that moment, Pante scoffed and scolded her for being absurd.

“Where did you learn such manners, speaking of that at the dinner table? Can’t you see the duke is troubled?”

Though he said that, Pante was staring straight at Callios.

It was a pointed warning: control your wife properly.

Callios’ eyes sank sharply, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a cold, crooked smile.

He spoke coolly, as if making sure everyone at the table could hear.

“It isn’t proper etiquette for someone who isn’t even involved to interrupt.”

Pante bit his lip as he looked at Callios, his younger half-brother. He wished that Callios and Ashley had never entered this ducal house, but he quickly smoothed over his expression and stepped back with forced gentleness.

“Well, that’s true. The duke is correct.”

“Speak comfortably, brother.”

“Fine. I will.”

On the surface, their exchange ended harmoniously.

Ever since Callios inherited the ducal title upon his adoption into the family, Pante had always reacted in this manner.

As the legitimate son of Duchess Isabella, Pante was initially furious about losing the title, but he soon gave up the fight. His timid nature meant he lacked the courage to stand up to Callios’s overwhelming presence.

So Callios knowingly ignored his resentment.

With a pleasant smile, Pante said.

“I suddenly remembered an urgent appointment, so I’ll excuse myself first. Have a good meal, everyone. And Callios, congratulations again on your safe return.”

Even after Pante left, tension lingered over the table.

Then Callios’s cold gaze drifted toward Rosie, as if to gauge her expression.

“You look tired. Let’s sleep separately tonight. If we share a room, I don’t think I’ll be able to restrain myself.”

That icy, disgusted stare, as though she were looking at something foul, was familiar. But this time, Rosie didn’t lower her head.

Instead, she lifted her chin proudly and met his obsidian-black eyes head-on.

Callios paused, taken aback, and their gazes locked. Whenever their eyes had met before, she would snap her head away, bow like a criminal, or sometimes even tremble.

A shadow fell across his chiseled features as he spoke, his expression unreadable.

“It seems you’ve become an entirely different person.”

That was all.

He told them to finish their meal, then stood up and left.

With the duke gone, the conversation and the meal came to an end.

The moment Callios disappeared, her mother-in-law Isabella shot her a venomous glare. Since Callios, who was not her biological son, had inherited the dukedom, she had kept her mouth shut in front of him. But whenever he was away, she always seized the chance to attack.

“What an ungrateful wretch! Is this what the Count’s family taught you? We picked up a discarded, worthless thing and brought it here, and this is how you repay us…!”

Rosie didn’t respond, only let out a dry laugh at the familiar insult toward her family. Instead, she asked calmly.

“Mother, have you finished eating? Should I have the dishes cleared?”

“Ha! Do you think anyone could feel like eating in a situation like this?”

“So you’ve lost your appetite.”

Without hesitation, Rosie picked up the nearby bell and rang it.

When a servant hurried in, Isabella ground her teeth.

“No, leave everything as it is.”

“Y–yes, my lady.”

The servant turned to leave, but Rosie’s frost-edged voice stopped them in their tracks.

“Didn’t you hear? She said she has no appetite. Clear it.”

“…Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m perfectly fine, Mother. I’m simply repeating what you said.”

“When did I ever say that—!”

The servant froze, unable to bear witness to the power struggle between them.

Unable to endure her anger any longer, Isabella shot to her feet. She strode towards Rosie and raised her hand.

“You barren fool who can’t even bear a child!”

Ashley and the servant closed their eyes, unable to watch.

But no sharp sound came.

When Ashley, still trembling, finally cracked one eye open, she saw Rosie gripping Isabella’s wrist tightly.

Even when Isabella tried to yank her arm free, it didn’t move.

“Let go of me right now! Stop showing off your poor upbringing and let me go!”

Everyone was stunned.

Was this really the same duchess who had always been so meek and obedient?

Rosie let out a cold, faint laugh. She leaned towards Isabella, indifferent to the insult. Then, as if it were nothing at all, she flung out her hand.

“Mother. What difference does it make how well the Count’s family raised me?”

“Wh–what did you say?”

“All I’ve learned here are things like this.”

At Rosie’s calm reply, Isabella’s face flushed as if it might burst into flames.

“…It seems I’ll have to resume your education soon. Make time and come to my room.”

Rosie let the words pass through one ear and out the other as she sat back down with perfect composure. A slice of well-cooked red meat fell quietly beneath her knife.

“I’m rather busy these days. My apologies, Mother.”

In the end, Isabella left the table, gripping her dress so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Ashley alone remained, asking anxiously.

“Sister… why are you suddenly acting like this?”

Rosie took a graceful bite of the simmered beef stew. It tasted better than usual.

“I only said the truth.”

Ashley stammered, terrified.

“W-what are you planning to do? If Mother really summons you to that room…”

“You don’t have to go, miss.”

“…What?”

Setting down her spoon with composure, Rosie gave the nervous, nail-biting Ashley a gentle smile.

“Just because you’re called doesn’t mean you need to obey.”

Feeling her sister-in-law’s bewildered gaze upon her, Rosie elegantly dabbed the corner of her lips.

Yes, this was how she should have been all along. Just because she lived on the ducal estate didn’t mean she had to endure every unreasonable cruelty.

‘I’ll never set foot in that awful room again.’

Truthfully, her hands were trembling slightly.

Memories of being locked in that room during her so-called “education”—hungry for days, abused for nights—rose sharply to the surface.

Even after becoming pregnant, she had been dragged there once more.

“If you miscarry, blame your weak body. Only lowborns blame others.”
“I’m disciplining you with a mother’s heart. Do you know how hard this is for me? And be sure the duke never hears of our lessons. He might misunderstand. What would I do then?”

Isabella always said the same thing.

Everything was Rosie’s fault. And absolutely nothing must ever reach Callios’s ears.

She had heard it so many times that it eventually felt natural. As if it truly were her fault.

Her hands, which were resting gracefully on her dress, trembled with anger.

Then, watching nervously, Ashley spoke in a small voice.

“Mother is one thing, but… I wish Brother would treat you more kindly. What if you leave us someday… what would we do…?”

Rosie gave a vague smile, burying the truth deep in her chest.

She had left once.

She had already died.

She had suffered from a mysterious illness for three months. She died alone in her room, six months pregnant with his child.

No one from the ducal family came. Not even her husband was there.

It was a lonely, pitiful death.

Just before she died, Jenny, the maid who had followed her from the Count’s estate, held her thin, twig-like hand, her fingers trembling.

“My lady… please hold on a little longer. Lord Callios will find a way. Please… just a little more…”

Sweet Jenny must have thought her lie would bring her comfort.

But it was absurd.

Callios? That man?

He would be relieved if someone as useless as her died. He would immediately replace her with a woman from a good family who could bear him healthy children and continue the lineage.

No matter what she did, she would die again in six months. It wasn’t an ordinary illness, but a hereditary one. It would return when the time came.

The future was already set.

Rosie had thought that death would free her from this place, but when she opened her eyes again, she was consumed by despair.

She cried. She cursed the heavens. She screamed.

Only when her tears had dried up did she regain her senses and make a decision.

If she was destined to die anyway, she would spend the rest of her time doing whatever she wanted. She would leave this beautiful yet nightmarish prison. With only the maid who had always cherished her.

‘Before that, I’ll stop the other death that was fated to come first.’

Rosie quietly studied Ashley, the cute girl with carrot-colored freckles scattered across her face. Ashley had died before Rosie in the previous timeline — poor child — and seeing her alive again felt strangely bittersweet.

Unaware of Rosie’s thoughts, Ashley smiled shyly.

“It did surprise me when you suddenly brought up… that… at the table. But… Brother must have said something awful to you again, right?”

Ashley’s presence was one of the few things that enabled Rosie to endure life on this hellish ducal estate.

Although she was fearful and timid, she was unable to confront anyone directly. Instead, she would cry and apologize while secretly looking after Rosie.

“Sister? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Time was short. To change everything, the half-year she’d been given wasn’t long.

“My lady. I won’t live the way I used to anymore.”

“What? What do you mean…?”

Watching Ashley’s startled expression, Rosie smiled, slow and deep.

‘It means I’m leaving this wretched place.’