Callios fixed his dark eyes on her with unyielding intensity.

“What you should do is accept me.”

Again with that. Rosie let out a weary sigh, as if exhausted by the repetition.

“I decide what I should do.”

“You make it sound as if you were forced into something you never wanted.”

His brows knitted together and his expression sharpened with displeasure.

Callios clenched one gloved fist and braced the other against the wall of the carriage.

“Was marrying me that unfair… and that regretful?”

That burning gaze screamed at her to say no.

Rosie met his gaze and was reminded of the moments she had tried so hard to forget.

Being stood up at the ball, having her dance rejected, and finding the sword ornament she had made with care tossed aside and forgotten. She remembered the insults he had thrown at her without a second thought, and the look on his face when she told him she was pregnant — not joy or surprise, but something closer to a grimace.

So she said it plainly.

“Yes. I regret it.”

Callios’ fist tightened further, leather straining.

“You accepted the proposal.”

“At first, yes. Because I was an idiot who didn’t know anything.”

“…What?”

There it was again: that icy flash of anger, sharp enough to cut.

Rather than shrinking back, Rosie confronted it head-on.

“I didn’t know what kind of person you truly were. Or what you were capable of doing.”

His jaw tensed; his face darkened, incredulous and furious all at once.

“You knew well enough. You knew exactly what kind of man I was.”

Rosie’s lips curved into a faint, bitter smile.

The truth had slipped out before she could stop it.

“What I thought I knew and what was real… were different.”

It was just like how she hadn’t known that marriage could end in something so wretched.

Callios seemed to fall into deep thought at her words, replaying the earlier events in his mind. After a moment, he asked quietly:

“Were you really that scared earlier?”

“If it hadn’t been terrifying, I wouldn’t be growing flowers indoors. I’d be holding a sword like you.”

Rosie answered calmly. Callios muttered with a trace of regret:

“…I should’ve held back more.”

Swallowing his frustration, he hit the carriage wall twice with his fist and exhaled slowly.

He didn’t seem interested in continuing the argument. He turned his head away, leaned back against the spacious wall of the carriage and crossed his arms.

His voice was lower than before.

“So. What was that earlier?”

When Rosie only stared instead of answering, Callios gave a small, derisive laugh.

“That nonsense about studying astronomy.”

“You said you believed me a moment ago.”

“I said I believed something will happen in the Beisler territory. Not that I believe you studied astronomy.”

“But—”

“And where exactly did you meet Elsavani? You hardly ever went out.”

Rosie was at a loss for words. He wasn’t wrong — claiming that she had casually run into the elusive royal astrologer made no sense, even to her.

She responded dryly:

“You speak as if you know my entire schedule.”

“I’m not ignorant. I know your official activities.”

It was an odd thing to say.

Rosie narrowed her eyes and studied him. Moonlight streamed through the window and fell on Callios’ sharply cut profile.

He looked at her with quiet resentment.

“What I don’t know are your unofficial ones. How could I? You hide them on purpose.”

Technically, it was Isabella and Pante who had kept things hidden, fearing that their ab*se would be uncovered. However, Rosie knew that she had concealed it, too.

She had hidden everything, convinced that keeping their broken family together meant hiding every bruise and hurt.

‘Foolish.’

A faint heat rose in her chest, mingling with the lingering smell of blood and making her stomach churn. She tried to steady her breathing.

Then Callios leaned in slightly, tilting his head towards her.

“What I want to know is how you knew.”

Rosie said nothing.

He continued:

“Ashley’s incident too. What have you been doing lately?”

Ah—she had forgotten to warn Ashley more firmly. She’d been too overwhelmed to follow up.

‘He’s handling it, so it should be fine.’

She thought he had become impatient enough to bring it up again.

Rosie quietly averted her gaze.

“I haven’t done anything.”

Suspicion deepened in Callios’ eyes.

“It doesn’t add up.”

“What doesn’t?”

He rose and sat down beside her, deliberately blocking the carriage door with his body to prevent her from escaping.

His black eyes glittered dangerously as he leaned in close to her, as though interrogating her.

Callios reached out and gripped a handful of her long hair in his gloved fingers.

“Now that I think of it—you told me to ‘protect’ Ashley. As if you already knew something dangerous was coming.”

A few strands of Rosie’s hair slipped through his large hand, falling one by one like the time left in her dwindling life.

Rosie felt a jolt in her chest, but forced herself to stay calm.

“I heard somewhere that Viscount Rusell was having an affair—”

“My sister wouldn’t be in danger over something that trivial.”

“…She really loves him. I worried she might make a bad decision.”

Her flimsy excuse was cut down immediately.

“She’s soft-hearted, yes. But she wouldn’t go that far.”

“So there was more than just the affair?”

Rosie pretended to be shocked, tilting her head as though hearing it for the first time.

Callios only studied her in heavy silence, as though trying to peel back her true intentions.

Had he already uncovered that much about Ashley?

Rosie looked at him, genuinely startled. He was closing in on the truth far faster than she had expected. About the forbidden arts. About the ritual.

‘Faster than I thought.’

Callios nodded slightly.

“He was using forbidden sorcery with his mistress.”

“…My.”

“He could’ve used it on Ashley too.”

Rosie lifted her hand to her lips and pretended to be surprised. If Callios had already discovered the sorcery, then at least she could stop worrying about it.

However, as Callios’s hand tightened around her hair, she realized that she would have to address the topic.

“Be honest. You knew everything, didn’t you?”

“…How would I know? Of course I didn’t—”

“No. Don’t lie.”

He swept her hair back over her shoulder.

“Either I’ve gone mad…”

He lowered his face dangerously close to hers, his breath brushing her cheek as he whispered through the narrow gap between his nose and mouth.

“…or you’re a witch disguised as my wife.”

Now, he suspected that she was a witch.

Not that this was entirely implausible.

Rosie laughed in disbelief and pushed at his chest, but Callios seized her wrist mid-push and pinned it against the carriage wall.

His black, suspicious eyes bore into hers from inches away.

His gloved thumb dragged roughly across the corner of her lips.

His face full of doubt, he questioned her with more interrogation than affection.

“Are you really Rosie?”

“What kind of nonsense is that—”

The thick scent of leather and blood clung to him, causing Rosie’s brow to furrow. His expression darkened further still.

Her lips parted to protest, but she was silenced.

Callios tilted his head and pressed his mouth to hers in a kiss that was barely veiled as ‘verification’.

Recently, whenever she came to, she always seemed to find herself in situations like this.

Pinned beneath the solid weight of his shoulder and unable to move, Rosie flinched.

His tongue pushed past her lips, unbearably warm. It traced her soft palate, licked along the tip of her tongue and swept through her teeth as if inspecting every edge.

At the same time, his other hand slid beneath her cloak and pressed hard between her shoulder blades.

He rubbed the indentation firmly, sending shivers racing up her spine.

Rosie couldn’t bear it any longer. Gathering all her remaining strength, she shoved him.

Their lips parted just enough to let in a sliver of air.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Callios stared at her, breath uneven, confusion flickering across his face.

“It’s you. So why…”

His breath grazed her sensitive lips, stirring a heat beneath her skin.

Rosie’s cheeks burned as she swung her free hand at him, but he caught it effortlessly.

He scoffed in response, as if amused.

“I don’t take a second hit.”

Callios let out a faint laugh and released her wrist.

His eyes seemed to say, Try hitting me again. I dare you.

Rosie’s face turned cold as she spat.

“Now I see the real problem with the duchy. It isn’t the finances. It’s that the venerable Benedict lineage is about to lose its shine because it met the wrong master.”

But Callios only snorted, perfectly composed.

“You married me knowing exactly what kind of man I am.”

“Which is why I’m trying to end it now. Better late than never.”

She regretted her choice.

For the first time, Callios’ expression showed signs of breaking. The brows that had endured every insult without flinching now twisted sharply.

“You haven’t forgotten, have you? Our wager. It’s already underway. And it’ll end soon.”

“…Good. Judging by your confidence, you must be restoring the finances properly. Excellent.”

He mocked her, and Rosie retorted without hesitation:

“Of course. Everything is progressing beautifully. Soon enough, I’ll even be able to shake off the Benedict name.”

Callios froze then growled, low and dangerous:

“Watch your mouth.”

It was as if he were the one who always spoke without restraint. Rosie swallowed the heat rising in her chest and took a deep breath.

If he thought she was a witch, then so be it. She decided to take it further and tell an even bigger lie.

“I happened to meet Lord Elsalvani… and he gave me a prophecy.”