The Terminally Ill Wife Wants a Divorce

While Callios was lost in thought, the chief steward looked fondly at the tea gifted by the emperor and chuckled.

“Since it is a royal gift, the lady will surely be pleased.”

“She could have had plenty of this even here.”

Callios replied indifferently.

‘She always drank the finest blends back at the count’s estate.’

He remembered Rosie’s peaceful days at Moavis County, sipping tea with her sister Serena. Among countless colorful flowers, wealth and warmth drifting like sunlight, Rosie had always looked happy there.

Yet here, in the duchy—vast, grand, wealthier than Moavis County—she somehow looked dimmer.

He had been deliberately ignoring that truth.

She always smiled brightly, but every so often…there was a shadow he couldn’t name.

He convinced himself she must have been unwell… or that he had imagined it.

‘And now she suddenly speaks of divorce.’

Just then, the chief steward hesitated before speaking with difficulty.

“Your Grace… This is something I learned only recently, but…”

Callios’s eyes narrowed.

He knew this cunning steward walked a fine line, reading the household and watching the family while surviving on his awareness.

‘He’s discovered something.’

Callios straightened, his expression sharpening as he gave a firm gesture.

“Speak. Whatever you know, say it plainly.”

“That is…”

After pretending to hesitate once more, the chief steward let out a long sigh. He couldn’t even look directly at Callios’s face as he spoke, sounding almost sorry.

“The older lady has apparently been taking all of the younger lady’s good tea every time.”

Callios froze, his brows lifting in surprise.

“Mother took them? Then what has my wife been drinking all this time?”

“She had no choice but to drink only what the elder madam provided… even the tea the lady cultivated herself was taken away.”

“So she was deprived of everything good and never even allowed a taste?”

“…Yes, Your Grace.”

A suffocating pressure tightened in his chest.

Callios recalled, disbelieving, how he had once reviewed the accounting records.

“I remember the dignity-maintenance expenses were clearly written. Then who—”

Before he could finish, Callios slammed his fist down on the table with a resounding crack. The corner trembled as if about to break; a thin fracture marred the wood.

He ground his teeth.

“Of course it would be my mother.”

Rosie’s voice flickered across his mind.

“I can’t spend the duchy’s money however I like.”

“I must have missed the point at which the meaning of ‘master’ changed. Am I a slave, perhaps?”

The papers crumpled violently in his grip.

Callios forced his memory back to the night before his expedition, when the blizzard was raging outside. Before the fire that drove the cold away, Isabella had worn an almost motherly expression.

Glowing embers crackled brightly and she patted his shoulder.

“I never mistreat family. Be at ease. You are my son, Callios.”
“So Rosie Moavis—no, Rosie Benedict now—is also my beloved child.”
“As the new mistress of the duchy, I will guide and care for her well.”

He had never fully trusted her. He knew that Isabella was not a kind woman.

Like her timid son, Pante, she was afraid of many things and rarely dared to take risks. Just in case, he had stationed assistant stewards and watchful eyes throughout the duchy.

Callios dragged his large hand down his tense face. His sharp nose was pressed slightly under the force of his hand.

“…Is there anything else?”

“Nothing so far, Your Grace. The older lady is extremely conscious of watchful eyes.”

The image came to him unbidden. Rosie was silently being robbed and unable to protest.

Had she really only lost the tea?

He now remembered that the dignity funds he had allocated had been taken, too. It was no wonder she had been forced to wear plain, colouless dresses.

‘Surely she hasn’t done worse than that…’
‘That timid mother of mine? Impossible.’

His mind rejected the thought, yet a horrifying scenario unfolded nonetheless and at its center stood his wife.

A rage so fierce he thought he might lose his senses burned up his throat.

Seeing Callios’s contorted expression, the chief steward cautiously added in a low voice:

“There is never such a thing as being too late to set things right.”

Callios gave a cold, self-mocking laugh.

“Some don’t seem to think so.”

Why had he assumed she was doing fine?

He remembered only the smile Rosie always gave him whenever he left for expeditions.

“Have a safe trip. And please don’t get hurt. You’re using what I made for you, right?”

She had made the bandages, ointments and medicines herself. Moavis County was rich in rare herbs that had been brought from across the sea.

He knew they worked well, but whenever she spoke to him with such care, he would only nod and walk away, bothered.

He had taken it all for granted.

Her effort. Her quiet devotion. Her warm farewells that softened even his frozen heart.

Rosie always stood in the same place, smiling gently at the iron gates of the duchy as he left.

He had never once noticed how pale her face had become over time.

He thought that focusing on his own duties was enough.

‘I treated it all as simple household matters.’

Internal affairs were the responsibility of the wife, while external affairs were the responsibility of the husband.

Upon entering noble society, Callios learnt that these two areas of life must be kept strictly separate and never allowed to interfere with each other.

One third of the spoils he earned from expeditions belonged to the imperial family and the remainder went to the duchy. Callios had believed without a shred of doubt that his wife naturally enjoyed the fruits of his labor.

‘Then what on earth have I been doing all this time?’

Grinding down confusion and a cold, bitter rage, he looked up just as a knight entered to report.

“We’ve located the source of the forbidden ritual materials Viscount Russel and Lady Sabrina were trafficking.”

“…Where?”

“The Islan brothel district.”

A place he knew too well.

The wretched h*ll he had been forced to live in as a child because they had no money.

Callios bared his teeth savagely.

“A place I know better than anyone.”

Even now, the stench of decay, the smell of flesh and the squeaking of rats gnawing at the toes of his sick mother and sister while he stayed awake, keeping watch day and night, were vividly etched in his memory.

It was as if the rats’ cries were burrowing into his skull again.

Fearing that his past would consume all that was precious to him, Callios gripped his sword and rose sharply.

“I’ll go myself.”

Someone needed to be crushed so this maddening self-loathing and fury could finally break.

***

Meanwhile, Jenny stood stiffly at Rosie’s side, looking miserable as children from the brothel clung to them.

When the dirty little hands smeared Rosie’s dress, Jenny instinctively screamed.

“Do you even know who this lady is!”

“Leave them be.”

Rosie alone remained calm, tending to the children.

She pointed to Ide, who was playing with a group of kids using sheer strength.

“Look. He’s keeping them entertained, isn’t he?”

“I don’t have nerves as thick as his, my lady.”

Jenny grumbled, but she still refused to lower her guard.

She scanned the area restlessly, convinced she was the only sane one in this entire place.

“Let’s go back now. We’re out of bread. And you’ve given away all your jewelry.”

But Rosie acted as if she hadn’t heard, smiling at the children as she lowered her voice conspiratorially.

“Kids, can you spread a rumor for me?”

“What rumor?”

Rosie tried to recall the exact timing. But she couldn’t remember the exact date; she had been too upset at the time.

“About a week from now, the ground will shake and the houses will tremble. When that happens, run outside immediately.”

“How do you know that, sister?”

“Well, actually…”

She felt guilty bringing up Elsavani again.

Just then, a dog barked behind them.

Someone approached Rosie from behind and spoke in a lively voice.

“The prophecy comes from the great astrologer and seer, Elsavani.”

Jenny and Ide rushed forward and blocked Rosie protectively, glaring at the stranger.

Even amid the commotion, Rosie repeated the name she had heard mentioned inwardly:

Elsavani?

“And I am that person’s disciple.”

Rosie frowned, about to scold them for overdoing their impersonation. She lifted her head and froze at the familiar face.

A beautiful red-haired woman with sun-kissed skin was smiling at her.

“Though I also work as an actress in a troupe.”

She was the actress that Rosie had met while attending a play with Callios. She was the woman Rosie had treated after seeing the wounds inflicted by the troupe leader. She was destined to become the most famous actress after Sabrina.

‘Natalie.’

Rosie murmured the name in a dazed whisper.

“How are you here…?”

“This is where I live. Where I was born and raised, too.”

She flashed a bright, toothy smile and bent down to stroke her panting dog.

“Oh, and I used the bandages you gave me really well. They’re not just good for healing, they’re wonderful for the skin too. Where did you get them? I’d love to buy some.”

Her black eyes sparkled beneath her red hair. Seeing how genuinely she liked them, Rosie calmly shook her head.

“I made them myself. You won’t be able to find them anywhere else.”

“What? You made them yourself?”

Startled, Natalie suddenly seemed to remember something and grabbed Rosie’s hand.

“I’ve been wanting to repay your kindness from that day. Would you come to my house? I’d like to treat you to a proper meal.”

Before Rosie could answer, Jenny yanked Natalie’s hand away and glared.

“Absolutely not, my lady!”

“It’s dangerous. If we go any deeper in, it’ll be a criminal hot spot.”

Both Jenny and I tried to stop her, and Natalie scratched the back of her neck.

“Right… I must have lost my mind for a second. How could I invite the duchess to a place like mine?”

When she added that she’d just got too comfortable and forgotten herself, Jenny snorted and interrupted her.

“Have you gone mad? Serving food to our lady in some shabby little hovel? Honestly! How is that even remotely acceptable?”