They waited for the coachman in silence for a moment. Light from the theatre spilled out into the street and cast uneven shadows across their serious faces.

They stood awkwardly, like strangers, until Callios finally broke the silence.

“All that talk about not having children, and all that nonsense about bringing another woman into the house… It was all because of this, then.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it.”

There he goes again.

Rosie sighed and hid her throbbing, bandaged hand behind her back.

“No. You won’t be able to ignore it this time. If you refuse, I’ll file a petition with the Papal Court and take it all the way to trial.”

If it came to that, it would become an ugly, petty fight.

‘Not that I ever intended to go that far… but if everything goes wrong, I’ll have to consider it.’

When she woke up again after dying, Rosie was filled with despair at having survived once more. Rosie had made up her mind. Now, nothing would stop her.

After a long standoff, Callios finally seemed to realize that he couldn’t break her. He pressed his clenched fist against the side of the large carriage and looked devastated.

“You’re betraying me?”

Seeing his face twisted in pain stirred a strange feeling in her.

‘Betrayal?’

So that was why he was desperate to hold on to his pride, despite everything. He didn’t want to keep her; he wanted to keep his honor.

“The betrayal started with you, Callios.”

He gritted his teeth as he heard her calm reply, as though her words were absurd.

“When did I ever…! Do you think divorce is something easy?”

“I know it’s difficult. I’m still going to do it. I’ve already decided.”

The higher one’s social standing, the more complicated the divorce process. In the Benedict household, the most powerful force in the empire, it would be even more so.

Rosie’s gaze drifted downward.

Callios’ broad build blocked the light, casting a long shadow that engulfed her, as always.

“I’m tired of all of it. My situation, my future… If I stay here, I’ll wither and die.”

Callios watched her profile intently as she murmured softly. His throat bobbed once before he asked quietly.

“All of this… is it because I’m away too often?”

“That’s not the problem.”

“That’s why I said I won’t leave agai—”

“It’s worse when you’re here!”

In the end, Rosie couldn’t hold it back any longer. She squeezed her hand too hard, reopening the wound and causing the bandage to turn red.

Callios froze at the sound of her loud, raw voice.

Feeling his stunned gaze on her, Rosie spoke, her voice trembling.

“Stop asking. You don’t need to know. Honestly… it doesn’t matter anymore. Don’t drag up what’s already over.”

Things might have been different if Callios had offered even one warm word, regardless of whether he had been home or away and whatever had happened inside the duchy.

It’s true that she had been brainwashed by Isabella. But if Callios had trusted her, perhaps her rigid way of thinking might have changed. Even her belief that silence was the only safe choice.

If only their relationship had been good from the start! If only she had felt he was truly on her side! She might have found the courage to change everything.

Despite his reasons, Callios had chosen Rosie Moavis — the worst possible candidate — in the best possible circumstances. She had wanted to repay him for that.

In the end, she found herself loving him, but she never asked for love in return. She held herself back, thinking it would be greedy to ask for it.

All that earnest devotion and effort had led her only to a lonely death.

Useless memories churned violently through her mind.

“You know… they say ignorance can be a sin.”

Callios dragged his rough hand down his face. Wherever his hand passed, his black eyes shone sharply.

Rosie didn’t look away. She spoke directly to him.

“I was a mess. So make sure you treat the next duchess properly. Don’t let her end up like me.”

“I’m telling you now, I have no intention of bringing another woman here.”

Callios stressed the words, but she remained composed.

“You need an heir, Callios. You’re the head of the family.”

It was just like the day they had first met as betrothed partners.

Hearing her words, Callios slowly lifted his hand from the carriage.

His black eyes narrowed. Then the corner of his mouth twisted faintly.

“You only call my name when you’re ready to leave.”

Their troubled gazes met in mid-air. Suddenly, there was a rustling in the nearby bushes.

They both turned their heads towards the sound.

It came from a fairly large thicket. At the same time, they heard the coachman returning.

“My lord? My lady?”

Callios turned at the sound of the cautious voice of the coachman.

Keeping his anger under control, he walked over and skilfully unhitched one of the horses from the carriage.

“I’ll cool my head. I’ll go separately.”

Fine. Being in the same carriage was suffocating anyway.

Rosie answered coldly.

“Before you go, know this: I’m starting the divorce proceedings soon. Whether you agree or not. If you refuse, I’ll go to the Papal Court myself. I’ll file a lawsuit if I have to. I’ll do everything in my power.”

It was like throwing an egg at a stone, but she was still going to do it.

She surprised herself by daring to threaten Callios and the entire Benedict duchy.

There was nothing she couldn’t do. As long as she made up her mind, that is.

“Rosie Benedict.”

Callios murmured her name again, low through clenched teeth, but Rosie remained composed.

“Call it all you want while you still can.”

“…….”

“It won’t be long before ‘Benedict’ stops following my name.”

Mounted on a massive black stallion, Callios watched her from within the darkness, his expression unreadable. He sat unblinking and unyielding.

“My lady?” What’s happening? Is the duke really leaving like that?”

The coachman asked nervously, but Rosie didn’t answer. Callios turned away and urged his horse forward.

All that remained behind him was a barren, icy silence.

***

Not long after, Callios suddenly stopped his horse.

‘I need to confirm it.’

Changing his mind, he pulled the reins hard, redirecting the horse. The horse burst forward, swiftly overtaking Rosie’s carriage.

He returned to the duchy before she did. Without hesitation, Callios strode towards the chamber where the sub-steward lived.

Bang!

The small door flew open. The sub-steward, who had been dozing, leapt up in shock and turned as white as a sheet.

Callios didn’t return the greeting. He simply drew his sword. The tip of the blade pressed directly against the man’s throat.

Callios’s expression sharpened as he spoke.

“Tell me everything I don’t know.”

“…P-pardon?”

“Everything that happened here while I was away. Word for word. Don’t leave anything out.”

“W-why would you— h-hiek!”

“For every lie you tell, you lose a finger.”

The sub-steward trembled violently. He was so terrified that he almost wet himself.

The Monster of East 18th Street. A title once given to young Callios, and now the monster loomed right in front of the man.

“I distinctly told you to report everything that happens in this house.”

“I… I only….”

“What have you hidden? How much?”

Rosie wouldn’t have acted like that without reason. Even if Callios had pressured her about her responsibilities, he knew better than anyone that she was the most dutiful person in the household.

She wouldn’t have thrown everything away and left for no reason.

‘Something happened. Something she didn’t want me to find out.’

If she wanted to keep it from Duke Callios Benedict, there were only two possible suspects: Isabella, the official duchess, and Pante, his half-brother.

From the outset, Callios had correctly judged that neither of them was capable of truly grievous acts.

Even when he first arrived in the duchy and broke their power, neither of them had dared to lay a hand on him directly.

For all their loud posturing, they were cowards.

When they lost their positions, they cowered pathetically instead of resisting.

Still, Callios had foreseen the possibility of trouble. So he had issued a strict order to the sub-steward: “When I am away, you will be my eyes.”

Now, Callios’s lips twisted coldly.

“You must have received quite a lot to keep your mouth shut.”

Servants follow whoever feeds them. They obey the person who spends the most time with them. They fear those who can threaten their families.

But none of that excuses harming his wife. That was the one law that Callios had set for this household.

A cold sweat slid down his back.

‘When did everything start rotting?’

He had never imagined that Rosie would hide the darkness of the duchy so stubbornly. The Rosie he knew had always been gentle.

Soft-hearted.

He could not have imagined that she could endure horrors in silence just so that he would not find out.

The sub-steward swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the tip of Callios’s sword. He didn’t even notice the warm dampness spreading down his thigh as he stammered, his face as pale as a corpse.

“M-My lord, I—I swear I’m innocent!”

“Speak the truth.”

“It’s exactly as you see! What more could you possibly wa— Aaaagh!”

Finally, Callios’s sword moved.

Blood burst forth. The sub-steward clutched at his hand and screamed in agony, while Callios remained calm.

“Say it again.”

Even as blood dripped from him and stained the floor, the sub-steward insisted that he had been wronged. No one mentioned Isabella or Pante.

Even as more blood poured from his body, he refused to name them.

If he remained silent despite everything, there could be only one reason: his family’s lives were at stake.

Either Isabella or Pante had threatened them, or they had made a deal that left him with no choice.

But Callios showed no mercy.

The man had committed the gravest sin of all.

With emotionless eyes, Callios lowered his sword towards him.

“I see. Then I’ll grant you leniency.”

“Th-thank y—”

He never finished.

Callios watched impassively as the head of the sub-steward fell to the ground. Then, completely unmoved, he wiped the blood off his blade.