At that moment, a large, broad-shouldered nobleman took the seat next to her, his imposing figure completely blocking Rosie’s view.

He seemed blissfully unaware of what he had just done. Thanks to him, however, the noble ladies approaching Rosie hesitated and offered her a few awkward nods before quietly retreating.

Rosie let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Thank goodness.

Callios still hadn’t noticed her.

Feeling slightly more at ease, she glanced around. Near Callios were the Emperor and Empress, along with Princess Isildaa and the other immediate members of the royal family.

Princess Isildoa was constantly on the move, either leaning in to whisper to Callios or attempting to strike up a conversation. However, he remained cold and distant the entire time.

Even so, the princess didn’t seem at all hurt. In fact, she seemed amused.

“A handsome man needs to play hard to get to be truly tempting.”

With a soft scoff, Rosie glanced back at Princess Isildoa as she swept past. She recalled how Callios had always found the princess unbearably bothersome.

‘What an unusual personality.’

Most people would recoil if they were pushed away so harshly.

Rosie thought the princess was shamelessly bold. However, her mood grew stranger by the second.

Callios was divorced now. He was no longer a married man.

This put him in a position to marry Princess Isildoa if he wished.

At that moment, Rosie felt a sudden wave of nausea surge up. She clapped a handkerchief over her mouth.

‘What is this?’

Her stomach twisted painfully.

Were her symptoms returning?

Rosie jumped up and hurried towards the theatre restroom.

As the imperial family were present, the facilities were spacious, immaculate and gleaming.

But she didn’t even make it to the entrance.

She couldn’t endure it any longer. A violent cough tore out of her, forcing her to press her handkerchief tightly over her mouth.

Something hot spilled out, soaking through the cloth.

Her throat burned. Her entire body felt as if it were on fire.

With trembling hands, Rosie lowered the handkerchief and looked down.

Her eyes slowly widened.

‘…Blood?’

Dark, murky blood had soaked the white handkerchief completely.

Rosie stared at it in shock, dazed, when—

“Madam Moavis?”

A stranger’s voice made her instinctively clutch the handkerchief and hide it behind her back.

When she turned, a handsome man was extending a hand toward her with a pleasant smile.

‘Marquis Lockbell Midas?’

She had seen him at her wedding before, so she recognized him immediately.

He was tall and striking, with soft brown hair and green eyes that sparkled with intelligence.

She remembered hearing from Ashley that while Callios was the very embodiment of cold, distant beauty, this man was known throughout society as warm and approachable.

As she stared at him in a daze, the Marquis awkwardly withdrew his outstretched hand.

“If you react like that, it makes me feel as though I’ve committed some offense.”

Perhaps because the performance was about to begin, no one else was nearby.

Flustered, Rosie quickly made up an excuse.

“…Ah, I’m sorry. I get startled easily.”

“Oh dear. I should have approached more carefully. I’m the one who should apologize for lacking delicacy.”

His eye smile was effortless, befitting a man famed for making countless noble ladies cry.

“I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Sir Elaine. It made me curious to meet you.”

Rosie thought of Sir Elaine, the director of the region’s largest hospital. He was sharp and shrewd, and never lost a negotiation.

He also remembered that the Midas family owned the hospital.

As the Marquis took another step closer with a bright smile lighting up his face, she recalled the black wolf emblem carved into the hospital’s brick exterior.

“It was refreshing. Sir Elaine has never spoken about anyone for so long. He said you were rather interesting.”

‘Why is he coming closer?’

“Interesting? I’m not very personable.”

“You seem more than personable to me.”

Taking another step, the marquis suddenly extended his hand. It was already too late for her to pull back.

With a soft murmur, he brushed his thumb across her lips.

“Pardon me for a moment.”

What…?

Rosie froze, horrified by the touch on her lips. Before she could protest, the Marquis withdrew his thumb and licked it lightly.

Struck speechless by this bizarre gesture, Rosie watched as he continued, his expression hardening.

“As I thought. It’s blood.”

“…What?”

Still unable to process what had just happened, she repeated the question stiffly.

She was so shocked that she didn’t even realize that she had dropped the handkerchief she had been holding.

The Marquis bent down and picked it up.

Studying the dark red stains closely, he said.

“It’s not as if you’d be walking around with something smeared on your lips. Earlier, I noticed something that concerned me.”

“……”

“And I see a trace of blood on this handkerchief as well.”

He returned the handkerchief to her with a serious expression.

“If you’re coughing up blood, your condition may be quite severe. You should go to a hospital immediately.”

His grave tone finally snapped her back to her senses.

Rosie flushed and stammered.

“I—I’m fine.”

“I’ll escort you to Sir Elaine at once. I’ll arrange for you to receive an immediate examination. Come with me.”

Even though she was coughing up blood, he shouldn’t have touched her like that. She should have told him how rude it was, but instead the Marquis simply took her hand.

Rosie was startled and found herself being swept along, stumbling after him.

“W-wait, Marquis, please…”

Had he always been like this?

His kindness seemed excessive.

Then again, maybe he was just trying to help after being startled by her coughing up blood.

Her thoughts whirled dizzily as heavy footsteps approached from afar and the hand holding hers was suddenly pulled away.

Before she could grasp what was happening, someone else seized her hand.

Startled, she looked up to see Callios standing between them, with murder in his eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

His voice was low and thick with displeasure.

He glared at the Marquis as though he might strike him down on the spot.

The moment Callios appeared, Rosie hurriedly stuffed the bloodstained handkerchief deep into the small bag hanging from her shoulder.

The Marquis noticed the movement, and his expression shifted to one of stunned disbelief.

“What am I doing? Naturally, I—”

Rosie immediately shot him a desperate look.

‘Don’t. Don’t say anything to Callios.’

Not understanding the situation but sharp enough to read her plea, the marquis hesitated and smoothly changed his words.

“The Madam has been doing great favors for my hospital. We were simply sharing a brief conversation.”

Callios’s mouth twisted. A sharp, cutting mockery spilled out.

“Conversation? Is that what you call touching someone’s lips and grabbing their hand out of nowhere?”

“And yet the Duke of Benedict seems intent on policing someone he’s already separated from. Quite meddlesome, wouldn’t you say?”

Callios’s dark brows contorted dangerously.

Before he could say something truly unforgivable, Rosie tugged on his hand.

Despite her weakness, Callios reacted instantly and looked down at her.

“Let’s go. We can talk outside.”

Her only thought was to separate the two of them before they came to blows.

Rosie nodded politely at the Marquis and led Callios out of the theatre.

The sun had long since set, and the evening air was filled with the soft chorus of insects.

As they stepped onto the long path leading towards the woods, Rosie realized that she was still holding Callios’s hand.

She quickly let go.

He stared at her openly and intensely.

“So. Talk.”

“…About what?”

His voice was low, controlled as if restraining his temper.

“What happened back there. Don’t tell me you and that fox—”

“There’s something else you should say first.”

She cut him off and rubbed her dry throat.

She was still shaken from coughing up blood. She had been startled by the Marquis’s sudden insistence on taking her to hospital, and she was shocked by his touch on her lips. And then Callios appeared out of nowhere.

Her mind was a storm.

Once she had steadied herself a little, she spoke calmly.

“It’s been a while.”

“That can wait. What was that earlier?”

Callios had no intention of letting go.

He kept pressing relentlessly.

Rosie gripped her bag tightly, the bag containing the bloodstained handkerchief.

Even after the divorce, nothing had changed between them.

This made her feel quietly despairing.

She had thought things would be more straightforward now.

With a sigh, Rosie lifted her chin.

“After so long apart, the first thing you do is interrogate me?”

“……”

“You haven’t changed at all, Your Grace. Not one bit.”

Callios flinched at her cold tone.

“You always act like I’m the guilty one—questioning me, demanding answers, cornering me.”

She looked at him with weary, resentful eyes. Old frustrations broke free.

“What did I ever do so wrong?”

Why did she have to feel guilty, even when she was on the brink of death?

A searing heat rose in her chest. Lowering her head in case she coughed up blood again, she covered her mouth with her hand.

Callios’s face drained of color.

He gently took her hand.

In a voice strained and twisted by pain, he whispered.

“You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“…Let go.”

“It’s all my fault. All of it is…”

Callios released her hand without resistance. His lips moved as if he had more to say, but then he fell silent.

Her churning stomach finally began to settle. Rosie lowered her hand from her mouth and asked quietly,

“I have something I want to ask.”

“Go ahead.”

The faint chirping of insects, which had echoed through the path, suddenly stopped. The moon slipped behind the clouds and his face became blurred in the deepening darkness.

“Did you know… that the servants at the duchy were being tormented badly by your brother and your mother?”

“……”

“So you did know.”

The long silence gave her the answer. He had known and still chosen to let it happen.

“Why did you pretend not to?”

“Oppression needs a place to release itself.”

His words were almost casual.

Rosie stared at him, stunned beyond belief.

He meant that he had pressured his family from behind the scenes and allowed them an outlet for that pressure.

A ‘vent’ that he deemed tolerable.

“How could you think something so irresponsible?”

“As long as you weren’t the one suffering, it didn’t matter.”

His reply came as naturally as breathing, and was so absurd that it left her breathless.

Rosie froze, staring at him in the dim light, as if she had misheard him.

“… What did you just say?”