The chief steward, who had been following quietly behind, widened his eyes when he saw what remained of the former sub-steward.

However, he was experienced enough to know better than to scream or react carelessly. Instead, he immediately set about cleaning up the scene.

“Chief steward. You claimed your eyes and ears were dull that you see little and hear even less.”

“…Yes, my lord. That is correct.”

“From now on, you’ll keep them wide open. You’ll know everything that happens inside this house.”

Callios picked up the bloodstained gold ring rolling on the floor — the sub-steward’s keepsake.

He had never fully trusted the chief steward; he was too much of a snake. But he hadn’t expected things to come to this.

Holding the dead man’s ring in his palm, the master of the duchy delivered his warning.

“If your eyes and ears fail you again, then I’ll ensure you live the rest of your life in darkness.”

The chief steward flinched and bowed deeply to his towering master. The shadow he cast, lengthened by his height and imposing build, stretched heavily across the floor.

“I will remember your command, my lord.”

“If you understand, bring me all the ledgers that detail the duchy’s finances.”

Callios had never checked such things himself before.

The chief steward obeyed without a word, his hands trembling as he retrieved the records and presented them to the duke.

A mountain of thick papers had already begun to stack on the sub-steward’s desk.

Callios sat on the edge of the desk, turning through the ledgers with sharp, deliberate eyes. His brow furrowed several times as he scanned the pages with cold precision.

“There’s a great deal of falsification.”

“…My deepest apologies.”

“Enough. I entrusted all of this to Rosie. Bring the ledgers and follow me.”

The faint sound of her return came from somewhere in the distance.

Finally, she was back.

Without hesitation, Callios strode towards Rosie’s private chambers.

He should never have allowed her to choose a separate room. He had only relented because she seemed so burdened in his presence.

He had let her rest, but he had never allowed her to drift away from him.

His teeth ground together.

“I let you go too far.”

His eyes burned sharply and the veins stood out on his tightly clenched fist.

Divorce? Did she want to take away his surname? Did she want to run away from him?

Absolutely not. Not now. Not ever — not even in death.

The faintly pleased expression on her face when she returned only served to deepen the cold sneer on Callios’s lips.

***

Rosie flinched just before an unsettling wind swept through the duchy. The rustling in the bushes had grown louder ever since Callios left.

“Please step back, my lady. It’s dangerous.”

The coachman stood in her way, looking wary.

Then a disheveled woman emerged from the bushes, looking embarrassed. A small white dog appeared beside her.

Woof!

Seeing Rosie startle, the woman hurried to explain.

“I—I’m sorry, madam. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop…”

As the moonlight slowly revealed her face, both Rosie and the coachman stiffened. It was swollen, as if she had been hit.

Rosie clicked her tongue.

“You’re quite injured. What happened?”

“I don’t listen well to the troupe leader. So… we fought.”

The little dog whimpered anxiously as it circled Rosie.

Rosie faintly remembered the theatre’s interval earlier; she had gone out for a short walk and heard drunken shouting and a dog barking.

‘No way…’

If she had paid more attention, she might have heard the woman stifling her groans.

Feeling quietly guilty, Rosie opened her handbag and took out the bandages and ointment she had prepared.

“The troupe leader must have very bad habits.”

“…He does.”

“He must feel protected by someone. Whoever’s backing him. Didn’t the actors protest a while ago about working conditions?”

The actress met her gaze, her eyes full of unspoken things, before looking away.

Rosie applied the ointment and bandaged the bleeding limbs with expert precision. The coachman cleared his throat, clearly disapproving, and the actress lowered her head, feeling flustered.

“Thank you. I never imagined a noble lady would do this herself—”

“It’s nothing.”

Her calm tone carried the message clearly: Don’t make a fuss.

The actress glanced at Rosie with a flicker of admiration.

When Rosie finished tending to her, she lifted her gaze.

“What you saw or heard earlier, pretend you didn’t.”

“Yes, of course.”

News of a ducal couple arguing about divorce would be a nightmare. Eventually, people would find out, but Rosie would prefer it to happen once everything had been settled.

She gave her thanks. The actress left, her white dog trotting faithfully behind her.

Rosie watched them go before climbing into the carriage.

The coachman, looking unsettled, spoke cautiously.

“I’ve heard she’s a reckless Romani woman, my lady. Best not get too close—”

“Quiet, Sebastian.”

“…Yes, my lady.”

The coachman closed his mouth at once and raised his whip.

As the carriage began to move, Rosie thought about the woman she had just met.

It was dark, so she hadn’t been able to see her hair properly, but it must have been red.

‘It was Natalie.’

She was destined to rise as the theatre’s new leading star after Sabrina’s downfall. Rosie had often heard about this woman from her maid, Jenny, towards the end of her previous life.

But now, none of that mattered.

Rosie’s heart pounded wildly at the thought that she had finally told Callios she wanted a divorce.

‘Finally…!’

She smiled as she watched the dark landscape flash past the carriage window. A faint blush rose to her cheeks, lifting the corners of her mouth naturally.

‘I’m really leaving now. It won’t be long.’

A moist, gentle hope settled into a heart that had long been dry, with nothing left in it but salt.

Simply saying those words to Callios felt liberating, even though leaving was another matter entirely. She had thought she would never manage it.

Why hadn’t she said it sooner?

The question made her feel foolish.

Still, the image of Callios, rarely shaken but momentarily thrown off balance, lingered in her mind.

Was divorce such a significant matter to him?

‘For a great noble, it might well be a stain on his name…’

Even if most of the blame fell on her, so what?

So what? She wouldn’t live long anyway.

Returning to the duchy, Rosie headed towards her room. The thought of escaping this quagmire soon lightened her steps.

‘I should clean up the garden first… There’s so much to do before I leave.’

But the moment she turned the corner towards her door, she froze.

Leaning against the doorframe at a crooked angle was Callios. The chief steward stood beside him, clutching an enormous stack of papers and fidgeting anxiously.

A very bad feeling crawled up her spine.

“You’re back?”

Callios spoke coldly and tossed a bloodstained ring towards her.

The gold ring skittered across the ornate, checkered corridor carpet.

Rosie stared, confused, then bent down to pick it up.

Dark, sticky blood smeared her fingers.

She frowned.

“Why is there blood…?”

Then she recognized it immediately: the metallic scent and the engraved initials. Her face drained of color. It was the ring that the sub-steward had treasured obsessively.

Rosie clutched the slick, blood-wet ring and glared at Callios.

“What is this supposed to mean? Where is the sub-steward? Why is only his ring—”

“……”

She had never liked the man. He had been Isabella and Pante’s errand boy, following her around every day and reporting everything he saw.

But the horrifying possibility that was rising in her mind made her shiver.

“…Don’t tell me—you killed him?”

He wasn’t innocent, but he had not committed a crime worth death.

Callios’s reply was ice-cold.

“He failed in his duty. So I removed him. I don’t need people like that.”

She had always known he could be rough. But she never imagined he would go this far.

The smell of blood made her feel sick, but Rosie refused to look away. Instead, she stepped closer, her face hardening.

“Is being a monster not enough? Do you want people calling you a madman, too?”

Callios looked at her as if he had heard something absurd, his dark gaze twisting. Almost… almost as if he were wounded.

Rosie dismissed the ridiculous thought and demanded.

“Was this supposed to threaten me? To show me what happens if I don’t obey?”

A faint laugh tugged at Callios’s lips.

“Would a threat even work on you now?”

Perhaps before, but not anymore.

Things were different now.

If she were the kind of woman who trembled at threats like this and ran away, she never would have started any of this in the first place.

“I have to ask, are you even in your right mind, my lord?”

“I’m perfectly sane. More than ever.”

“A sane person does this? Do you kill people whenever you decide you don’t need them?”

Rosie let out a hollow laugh, her expression openly hostile.

“Then I must be next. I’ll probably die by your hand soon.”

Callios, expression utterly unreadable, asked slowly.

“And why would that be?”

“Because I’m not fulfilling my duties as your wife and I’m talking about divorce. No—because I’ve already made up my mind.”

Rosie let the sub-steward’s ring slip from her fingers. Still bearing the faint warmth of its previous owner, it rolled across the carpeted corridor.

Callios didn’t even glance at it. He answered as if it were obvious.

“No matter what you do, you’ll never die by my hand.”

‘How generous of him.’

Rosie let out a small, incredulous laugh.

Callios stood firm in the corridor and nodded towards the chief steward.

“The sub-steward died because he stole from the duchy’s funds.”

Rosie’s delicate brow twitched slightly.

What did that mean? She had never experienced any of this in her previous life.

“He stole from the treasury?”

“It seems you truly knew nothing.”

Callios twisted one corner of his mouth, then reached out and took a document from the chief steward’s trembling hands. It was the top document in the stack.

He handed it to her.