All she wanted was to leave this place. All she wanted was to go back to her room and have a rest.

‘Jenny’s relatives need to contact me soon.’

Rosie glanced back at Jenny standing behind her. When their eyes met, she sent her a look that clearly meant Hurry up and get word from them, but Jenny misunderstood and beamed.

“Shall I bring more wine?”

“…That would be nice.”

Rosie raised her glass of well-aged wine, which Jenny had brought, but stopped short of drinking it. She hadn’t drunk any alcohol since finding out that she was pregnant. After hesitating for a moment, she smiled bitterly as she realized her mistake.

‘It’s fine to drink now.’

The child was no longer there, an unborn life that had not stayed with her for long before leaving.

Her mood sank as a voice approached.

“May I join you? I’m sorry if you were resting.”

Callios’s adjutant was Rob Beisler, whose gentle tone did not suit his massive, muscular frame. He was Callios’s closest confidant — the man who fought alongside him on the battlefield and whom he trusted above all others.

“You seemed lonely. I’d be honored to keep you company as a drinking partner. Would you allow it?”

“Of course.”

Once seated, he immediately expressed his admiration for her drinking capacity.

“My lady, you hold your liquor well. I’ve been watching, you’ve already finished more than a bottle.”

Rosie quietly observed the broad-shouldered man, whose eyes sparkled with interest. Come to think of it, Rob Beisler liked women who could drink. Seeing his supposedly meek commander’s wife handle alcohol with ease must have piqued his curiosity.

In her previous life, she had hardly spoken to him; they had been too distant.

Understanding his thoughts, Rosie lifted the corner of her lips in a small smile.

“Strangely, it’s going down well today. Though… I think I’m getting a little tipsy….”

“Oh dear. A bit of dancing will chase the dizziness away.”

Rob Beisler suggested the dance with easy confidence.

Rosie glanced around the hall and saw that Callios was still talking to people from afar. Perhaps it was her imagination, but it seemed as though he kept glancing in her direction.

Lowering her voice, she asked Rob Beisler.

“Let’s dance later. There’s something I’d like to ask first….”

“Ask me anything.”

“What happened to the Duke at the palace? Politically, I mean.”

Earlier, she had briefly heard Ashley say the words ‘pro-war faction’.

Noticing the seriousness in her eyes, Rob ran a hand through his hair. After hesitating for a moment, he answered honestly.

“To be frank, every visit to the palace turns into a battle. The Duke’s stance clashes with the pro-war faction.”

“Pro-war? The ones who want war?”

“That’s right. They insist the Duke must take part in the upcoming expedition. That’s caused some conflict.”

‘Conflict with the pro-war faction?’

Rosie tilted her head in puzzlement.

“The next expedition… wasn’t Callios supposed to go?”

“No, my lady. The Duke refused it long ago.”

Rosie froze at this unexpected response.

This was not something that had happened in her previous life.

“…I see.”

The Callios who returned briefly around this time left again three weeks later, right after learning that she was pregnant. They embarked on a long expedition under the Emperor’s command.

He returned four months later, by which time she was already suffering from her hereditary illness.

Soon afterwards, as Rosie’s illness worsened and she slowly began to die, he left again. By then, she had been in a coma and had no memory of seeing his face again. Everything she knew came from Jenny.

That had been the end.

‘I had no idea he refused the expedition.’

Rosie frowned faintly, recalling what Callios said yesterday.

“You should find things out yourself. Attending social gatherings and securing what the ducal household needs is part of your duty, isn’t it?”

By that time, Isabella’s tyranny had become increasingly worse, but Rosie was too exhausted to notice. She hadn’t even had the luxury of caring.

‘Callios refused an expedition? That’s never happened before.’

He was clashing with the pro-war faction. This suggested that the Emperor had either not yet made a decision or was not intervening directly.

Callios had always stepped forward without complaint when it came to war or wielding a sword. If there was an opportunity to earn merit, he was usually the first to volunteer.

So what on earth was going on?

Lost in thought, she suddenly noticed Rob Beisler extending his large, rough hand.

“Well then, will you finally honor me with a dance, my lady?”

“All right.”

Rosie smiled and was just about to place her hand lightly on the adjutant’s shoulder when a cool, low voice sounded behind them, lowering the room’s temperature by several degrees.

“Do you want to see my wife collapse, Rob Beisler?”

Rosie was startled and let go, spinning around. Rob, on the other hand, looked entirely unsurprised, as though he had known Callios was there all along.

At some point, Callios had approached them.

Rob asked in a deadpan voice.

“Collapse, my lord?”

“Rosie isn’t well enough to dance. She’s been sick for days.”

“She… has been ill?”

Only then did the startled adjutant hurriedly apologize to Rosie.

“I—I had no idea. My apologies, my lady. I nearly pushed you too far.”

“She even said her stomach felt unwell and went to rest early yesterday.”

Ha!

Rosie glared at the shameless Callios.

He was repeating her words from yesterday right back at her.

Ignoring him, she turned back to Rob Beisler and invited him again.

“I’m perfectly fine today. Come dance with me, Sir Beisler.”

“Ah—no, my lady. I couldn’t possibly trouble a delicate noblewoman with my poor dancing.”

Sensing that the situation was becoming dangerous, Rob slipped away skillfully. Callios watched his adjutant flee, his expression remaining cold, before turning his head away.

“If you don’t dance at an event like this, do you fall ill or something.”

“Normally, you should be my partner, but you hate dancing. I had no choice but to find another partner. What exactly is the problem?”

She replied carelessly, glancing at his handsome face, even when he was scowling.

She remembered how she had once asked him to dance, only to be humiliated.

“Do you think I’d be in the mood to dance with you?”

Even if he never said the rest, it sounded as if he had: Dancing with a dull woman like you would only disgrace me.

Having already been bruised by constant comparisons to her sister, the Empire’s favorite, Callios’s rejection had completely shattered her pride.

People laughed. They whispered behind their hands.

After that, Rosie never asked him to dance again.

But now—

“Dance with me.”

“…What?”

She blinked, wondering if she had misheard. Her large brown eyes fluttered in confusion.

When she didn’t respond, Callios repeated himself.

“Dance. With me.”

Rosie began to doubt whether the man standing in front of her was really Callios Benedict.

Suspicious, she asked him.

“You… don’t dislike dancing?”

“Who said that.”

“You did. Callios—you said so.”

She slipped and called him by name, startled by herself.

‘Why was he acting like this?’

Hearing his name instead of the stiff title, Callios let out a faint, amused laugh.

“I don’t dislike it. It’s just bothersome.”

‘As if that makes a difference.’

Rosie narrowed her eyes at him in disbelief.

Just then, someone called out to Callios. He shot the caller a sharp glare, but reluctantly stepped away.

“Wait for me.”

Even as he walked away, he kept glancing back at Rosie as though he hated to leave.

The moment he had left, the Viscountess of Issuville instantly took his place. She was one of Isabella’s lackeys and always took the lead in tormenting Rosie.

She arrived and tilted her head gracefully.

“I came because I have something to tell you, Duchess.”

Opening her fan to cover half her face, the viscountess whispered maliciously.

“I’ve just heard a rumor attempting to defame you. I was so appalled.”

Here we go again.

This was precisely why Rosie had put off attending social gatherings for as long as possible. She sighed inwardly.

“I was so distressed… truly distressed, my lady. I came because I hoped you, the Duchess, would restore order in this chaotic mess.”

Seeing no reaction from Rosie, the viscountess leaned in further.

“Good heavens, how can such shameful gossip spread? Some are claiming you have lost the Duke’s favor. Saying that you beg at his bedside every night, pleading for him to share your bed. Isn’t it absurd?”

“……”

“Of course I know such rumors are false. Those who spread them should be dragged out and punished, don’t you think?”

In reality, it was him who was obsessively trying to share a bed that she no longer wanted.

Rosie’s eyes calmly scanned the surroundings.

‘There it is.’

It didn’t take long to discover the source of the Viscountess’s confidence. Isabella was standing nearby.

She spoke with refined elegance, smiling as if nothing were amiss, yet her gaze remained fixed on Rosie.

Rosie grasped the situation and returned a faint, mocking smile.

Facing the viscountess, who stood there triumphantly, Rosie replied as if none of this bothered her.

“Next time, make sure such nonsense doesn’t reach my ears. I don’t have time to bother with trivial gossip. I’m far too busy managing the ducal household.”

Despite the fan she quickly raised to hide it, the Viscountess of Issuville’s lips twitched and her expression twisted momentarily. Rosie had already seen everything.

Smiling pleasantly, she continued, revealing what she knew.

“In fact, I’ve been quite envious of you, Viscountess.”

“…What do you mean by that?”

“I heard you’ve been handling matters that should be dealt with by someone else. Truly, I wish I could do the same. I’ve been so exhausted with all the work lately.”

Rosie spoke calmly, as if she genuinely admired her.

In fact, she was subtly revealing that the viscountess — the viscount’s mistress — had been interfering in his affairs.

The moment she heard Rosie’s words, the color drained from the Viscountess’s face.

Tak!

Her fan slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.

“H-how did you….”