The next afternoon.

“…Is it really true, Rosie?”

Hearing Ashley’s devastated voice, Rosie poured hot water over the tea leaves she had picked herself. She couldn’t bring herself to say she had witnessed the affair firsthand at the theater. She was afraid the truth would shatter her.

“Yes. And it’s also true that Viscount Russel is involved in something dangerous.”

The herb they had consumed produced the same effects as the spells used by the Romani, the kind used to force confessions, drawing out a person’s hidden desires.

“…I believe everything you say, but… I want to reserve judgment until I see it with my own eyes. I’m sorry.”

Rosie hadn’t expected Ashley to believe her immediately. That gentle young lady didn’t even know how to doubt someone.

Rosie smiled faintly, as if to say she understood.

“It’s all right. Anyone would find it difficult to believe such a story out of nowhere.”

Even this much was enough. The fact that Ashley now firmly suspected Viscount Russel was a significant step.

‘She’ll be safe for now.’

Sabrina had many lovers, but she favored Viscount Russel for a clear reason.

‘Because he brought her materials that were nearly impossible to obtain.’

Not only had Russel been unfaithful, but the materials he had supplied had also turned out to be deeply immoral.

The ducal house quickly ended its relationship with him.

When Ashley later learned the truth about the drug’s ingredients and the betrayal, she was overwhelmed by shock.

Her guilt then drove her straight into the path of a carriage.

“My lady! Miss Ashley—she… she…!”

The image of Jenny’s pale, trembling face when she delivered the horrific news remained vivid even now.

Rosie bit down on her lip.

If Ashley found out the whole truth, her fragile heart would blame itself again.

‘That must be the one thing she never discovers.’

Viscount Russell had forced Ashley to take it without her knowledge. As if that weren’t enough, he also used her as a supplier.

“Young lady, avoid having meals with Viscount Russel for the time being. And try not to grant the favors he asks of you.”

Ashley, who had been lost in thought, nodded as if she finally understood. She must have sensed something in Rosie’s unusually firm tone.

“It’ll be difficult, but endure it just a little longer. It’ll be over soon. His Grace is handling the matter.”

At that, Ashley’s eyes widened.

“Callios is? Ah—right. Come to think of it, when I went to Countess Ilona’s gathering, I overheard something strange.”

Even in places where everything was supposed to be concealed, rumors always slipped out somehow.

“They say he summoned all the vassal houses.”

“…He did? Why?”

She had just told herself to stop showing interest in him, and here she was asking more questions.
Realizing it, she inwardly winced—too late.

“They said it was to go over everything he had been unable to address while he was away on external duties… Apparently, the atmosphere was quite tense.”

To put it nicely, it was a comprehensive review.

“Some of the vassal houses were completely rooted out.”

A purge.

“Especially the ones that valued tradition… you know… the ones who…”

When Ashley trailed off uneasily, Rosie calmly finished the sentence.

“The families who supported your stepmother and Young Master Pante?”

“That’s right. They said that Callios had always been good at persuading the long-standing vassal houses, but that he had suddenly changed direction.”

They said that he had trampled on them in every possible way, seizing on any pretext he could find to do so. When he found something significant, he even took their lives.

“And they said that the way he handled it reminded them of when he forced the former crown prince to abdicate…”

Ruthless, merciless and relentless. That was Callios’s way.

Nevertheless, Rosie couldn’t stop thinking about the strange words he had said in the carriage.

“I’d make the same choice even if I went back.”
“I’d grab you before you could run and drag you back here to the end.”

It was an obsession that took her breath away. His gaze was so intense that she wondered how she had never noticed it before. It was filled with something she couldn’t name.

She could not make sense of what lay inside him.

‘Maybe he just enjoys tormenting me?’

Now that she had asked for a divorce, perhaps he hated her. Maybe he was doing all this just to confuse her.

She considered countless possibilities, only to end up laughing helplessly.

Why pretend it was new?

Callios’s inner thoughts had always been like fog; only now, the fog was thicker and darker.

“I think it’s also related to why Callios won’t be going on the expedition this time.”

Ashley said cautiously.

Rosie nodded.

“He must be cleaning up the rotten roots. At long last.”

But when something rots completely, fragments break away from the main body and become stray roots that eventually turn into fertilizer.

Rosie looked at Ashley, who was alive and healthy — unlike in her previous life — and smiled quietly.

As long as even one of the things Ashley cherished could properly take root in this land, Rosie could not hope for more.

***

The next day, Rosie visited the bank to confirm that the money she was expecting had been deposited correctly.

However, the moment she opened her vault, she froze.

At Callios’s behest, all her unpaid personal funds had been transferred at once.

‘It really is a lot.’

The neatly stacked, gleaming Florin gold coins and ingots stirred another feeling within her. Ultimately, however, it would all flow back into the depleted ducal finances.

Putting aside her fleeting urge, Rosie calmly drafted the documents to be attached to the ducal account. As she filled in the transfer date and signed the page, the bank manager watched her with a polite, businesslike smile.

There was something he wanted to say.

She waited.

As expected, he carefully asked.

“By the way, has the Benedict Duchy been… all right lately?”

“What do you mean all right? In what sense?”

At Rosie’s puzzled question, the bank manager coughed awkwardly.

“One of the members of the ducal household has an extremely poor credit score.”

Poor credit…?

Rosie dipped her pen into the inkwell and pretended not to know anything as she probed him carefully.

“I wasn’t aware of that. And who might that be?”

“I’m bound by confidentiality, so I can’t say. But it seems this person has been borrowing quite a bit from neighboring branches as well.”

“Didn’t you just say there was a confidentiality oath?”

“Ah, branches within the same bank share information. This also puts us in a difficult position. Unrecovered loans are damaging for us, too…”

It had to be Isabella.

Rosie’s gaze hardened as she spoke firmly.

“From now on, no matter who it is, if anyone tries to borrow money using the ducal name, refuse them.”

“…Excuse me?”

“From this moment on, all financial matters must be handled by only two people: myself and His Grace, Benedict Callios.”

She handed him a letter bearing the family crest—the one only Callios was permitted to use, stamped with the golden lion.

Rosie addressed the bank manager, who adjusted his spectacles to study the seal more closely.

“This is the proof. Without this, do not lend or receive anything.”

“Mm… Understood, my lady.”

Rosie left the troubled bank manager behind, then turned back as if she had remembered something.

“Oh, and if anyone tries to borrow money in the duchy’s name, let me know immediately.”

She repeated this instruction before leaving the bank. As she stepped outside, Rosie suddenly frowned.

Her lips were burning.

She must have pressed the tender, swollen area when she bit her lip earlier, trying to concentrate on signing her name.

Her lips burned again.

It must have been from when Callios had roughly ravaged the inside of her mouth while accusing her of being a witch.

Rosie absentmindedly touched her lips as memories of his behavior resurfaced.

‘It still stings.’

Worse yet, she remembered the way his hand had moved along her back, especially around her shoulder blades.

“Nightly affairs is vulgar by nature. Didn’t I teach you that with my body?”

Even the memory of it made her face burn.

Although Callios’s mother was a fallen noble, he still carried noble blood.

The reason for his crude words and rough behavior was clear, though.

Rosie’s expression darkened as she remembered where he had been born and raised.

‘The Islan brothel… wasn’t it…?’

Just then, she felt a small tug on her collar and instinctively looked down.

A young boy, dressed in thin, tattered clothes full of holes, was pulling at her collar.

Rosie bent her knees to meet the boy’s eyes.

“What is it, dear? Do you need help?”

The boy flinched and looked around nervously. He tugged at her collar again and Rosie leaned closer.

In a shy whisper, he said,

“I’m hungry—”

Rosie’s delicate brows knitted sharply. The small, shrinking voice squeezed tightly around her heart.

Without hesitation, she removed her earrings and necklace and placed them in the boy’s hands.

“Take these—quickly. Hide them well so no one else sees.”

“R-really? You’re giving these to me?”

His innocent eyes sparkled. Rosie nodded and tenderly ruffled his messy hair without a single trace of hesitation.

“Of course. Bring them to a pawnshop and exchange them for money. Make sure your family eats well.”

“Thank you, pretty lady!”

The boy beamed and bowed deeply several times before running off. He passed Jenny, who was hurrying over with her sleeves rolled up, and Ide, who was carrying an even larger bag of bread.

“My lady! They say the bread here is amazing!”

However, Rosie’s gaze lingered on the little boy’s receding figure as he disappeared into the crowd.

Suddenly, the boy who had gone into the alleyway turned around and looked straight at her.

For a moment, she saw Callios as a child.

‘He used to look at me just like that.’

The instant he crossed her mind, yesterday’s mortifying memory slipped in as well.

“Are you really Rosie?”

The way he had touched her body suspiciously, with those warm, probing hands, made the memory far too vivid.

Her back felt strangely hot.

Rosie suddenly called out to Jenny, who was enjoying the warm smell of bread.

Turning her back to her, she asked.

“Did you ever notice anything… here?”

“Huh?”

“My back. Around here.”

Rosie fumbled with her hand, just managing to reach the area around her shoulder blade. It was a spot that she couldn’t check by herself, so she asked Jenny, who was helping her get dressed, to take a look.

When Rosie explained that she was referring to the markings on her bare skin, Jenny tilted her head and suddenly remembered.

“Well, it might be because you’re quite slender, but…”

“But?”

“That part does stick out a bit more than the rest. Ah—and you also have a big mole there.”

“…A mole?”

“Yes. One large mole, and below it, two small ones.”

“…You observed very closely.”

It was only then that Rosie remembered how persistent Callios had been in bed. Even during s*x, he would suck the hollow of her shoulder blade or touch it repeatedly until the skin was worn down.

Shaking her head, Rosie tried to stop thinking about it.

His recent words had been so provocative that she felt as if something indecent was clinging to her. She could feel heat prickling along her nerves, as though they were sizzling inside her body.

‘What on earth am I thinking…’