Rosie froze for a moment before quickly denying it.

“No.”

But Marquis Midas only gazed at her patiently, as if urging her to continue—clearly intent on hearing her real answer. Unable to endure his quiet, persistent silence, Rosie finally spoke honestly.

“To be honest… even I’m confused now. My feelings for him are gone, but it seems my attention isn’t.”

For some reason, lying to the Marquis was difficult. Perhaps it was because they shared a secret, or perhaps it was because she felt strangely at ease with him.

The Marquis of Midas leaned back in his chair, causing it to creak slightly, and rested his interlaced fingers behind his head.

“I was worried. You seemed far too calm despite facing something so frightening. But it seems what troubles you is something else entirely.”

He cast her a sidelong glance, tilting his head farther back.

“Are you perhaps worried about Duke Benedict?”

“…Pardon?”

“That he will be left alone.”

Rosie looked at him, startled, but with his head tilted back, she could only see the curve of his throat, not his face. The Marquis had a way of getting straight to the heart of the matter while wearing a smile.

‘Was that really something she was worried about?’

She had never considered it.

‘That was what I wanted, wasn’t it?’

He said he would wait until he found peace of mind. She had hoped that, in the meantime, he would think about her a little more — enough to be troubled by her absence.

Was she worried about him?

The thought had never once crossed her mind.

Still caught in that swirl of confusion, Rosie looked up just as the Marquis slowly stood up straight. His posture shifted, and when his gaze met hers, it carried a quiet, solemn weight.

“After all that happened to you, I cannot understand how you can still feel this way. So many wounds—so many places torn and hurt.”

“He was just as shaken by everything that happened…”

The Marquis tilted his head at Rosie’s quiet, slightly defensive words. His expression was difficult to read.

“So, have you forgiven him?”

Forgiven him?

Hearing that question voiced by someone else made it feel strange, almost wrong.

How far could acceptance really extend when faced with death?

Forgiveness… She wasn’t sure.

She hadn’t forgiven him. Not yet, at least.

But did she still hate him as much as she once did? Enough to kill him with her hatred alone?

She didn’t know that either.

If she had to choose a single word, it would be ambivalence.

Love and hatred had overlapped for so long that the line between them had become indistinguishable.

After a quiet moment with her thoughts, Rosie finally spoke, her voice steady.

“When someone is preparing to leave, it’s natural to worry about the people they’ll leave behind. Not only the duke.”

This was the closest she could get to the truth, given the turmoil inside her.

The Marquis’s fingers began tapping more quickly against the table.

“So you don’t worry only about Duke Benedict.”

“That’s correct.”

He stared at her for a moment, then smiled softly.

“I sincerely hope you live, my lady. Truly.”

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Viscount Elaine came back. Rosie straightened her clothes. Perhaps it was the interrupted conversation, but the room now felt slightly awkward. Viscount Elaine seemed to sense this, too, glancing between them before handing Rosie the prescription.

“You said coughing blood wasn’t one of your previous symptoms.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll need to observe further to know whether it’s worsened or not. I’ve spoken with other physicians and even suppliers, there are several things I’m beginning to suspect.”

“Suspect?”

At her question, Viscount Elaine adjusted his glasses, then cast a pointed glare toward the marquis who was still lingering nearby.

“Marquis, it’s time for you to leave.”

“You seem desperate to drive me out.”

“I’m suffocating.”

Was Viscount Elaine avoiding answering her?

Rosie accepted the prescription he offered and glanced at the calendar. It was a meaningless prescription, and so was their wedding anniversary.

Her brown eyes grew subdued as she stared at the approaching date.

***

Shortly after being given her medicine, Rosie left the hospital with Marquis Midas.

Unfortunately, she ran straight into Callios in the middle of the street. He had just come from a nearby weap*ns forge, carrying a newly refined sword. It was an imperial gift.

The red dragon stones set into the hilt caught the sunlight and flashed sharply across Rosie’s vision. She flinched, lifting a hand to shield her eyes, and only then realized that Callios was standing right there.

One of the ducal attendants behind him noticed Rosie first and brightened in recognition.

Callios’s cold gaze shifted from the towering Saint Grand Hospital behind her to Marquis Midas at her side.

Once he had grasped the situation, he spoke in a low, grinding voice.

“You’re still doing business with Saint Grand Hospital.”

He knew that Rosie had been selling herbs and bandages, brought from the Count’s estate, to the hospital via the merchant Phil. He also knew that she had earned a decent amount from it.

“It turned out that way.”

Of course, these days she was visiting because of her hereditary illness, but she had no intention of telling him that.

The marquis, watching the two with amused interest, chimed in with a pleasant smile.

“My lady has been doing many good deeds for our family.”

Callios scoffed, folding his arms.

“Did you really think you were special to her? She treats everyone exactly the same. How laughable.”

“Oh? Is that so, my lady? I was under the impression I was getting special treatment.”

The marquis turned his smile toward Rosie. At the same moment, Callios narrowed his eyes and stared at her intently. Two gazes suddenly focused on her at once, and Rosie, flustered, answered honestly.

“It’s true that I owe Marquis Midas quite a lot.”

Of course, because of her hereditary illness.

The marquis grinned triumphantly, while Callios’s expression twisted sharply.

“There, you see? Even the lady says so.”

But he didn’t stop there. He leaned closer to Rosie, moving his face towards hers in an instant. Callios, who had been watching from the sidelines, suddenly became visibly colder.

“We were on our way to share a meal so I could express my gratitude. So if you wouldn’t mind stepping aside, Duke?”

A meal? When had they agreed to do that?

Rosie blinked at the marquis, who was smiling slyly.

“You must have forgotten, my lady. You already agreed to dine with me.”

“…Did I? I don’t recall it well.”

“It came up briefly during our talk about business. I understand if it slipped your mind. Well then, let’s go.”

Marquis Midas moved naturally as if to escort Rosie toward the dining hall. But Callios stepped in front of them with a terrifying expression.

“She said she doesn’t remember. It must not have been important enough for her to remember.”

“And you’re quite meddlesome for someone who no longer has any ties to her household, Duke.”

Tension crackled between the smiling marquis and the glowering duke.

What should she do?

As Rosie hesitated, she felt the stares of passersby gathering and her head began to ache even worse.

Then Callios extended a hand toward her.

“Come here. I just remembered something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“We’ll talk over there.”

At that moment, Rosie saw Viscount Elaine emerge from the hospital and remove his glasses to clean them. He looked utterly exhausted, as if he had slipped outside for a brief rest.

Relieved, Rosie quickly approached him.

“Viscount Elaine!”

“My lady? You haven’t left yet?”

Rosie took his arm with a bright smile.

“Join me for a meal. I’d like to treat you. I’m always grateful for your help.”

“…Ah? My lady? I just ate…”

“Then let me treat you to dessert.”

Dodging Callios and Marquis Midas, Rosie whisked the bewildered Viscount Elaine away. Suddenly left without her, Callios and the Marquis stared at each other in frustrated disbelief.

Then, with a sharp look in his eyes, Callios pressed forward.

“Since when has Rosie been indebted to you? And for what reason?”

Describing working together in business as being ‘in debt’ would be an understatement. There must be more to it than that.

Even under the duke’s sharp interrogation, the Marquis of Midas merely shrugged with lazy indifference.

Lockbell Midas was the general regulator and the emperor’s right-hand man.

While Callios Benedict had brought the second prince into the light through sheer force and military might, Lockbell Midas had backed him up with political finesse and financial power from behind the scenes.

For this reason, Lockbell Midas had been elevated from baron to marquis. People called it a revolt of second-in-commands, and even neighboring nations buzzed with the news.

But, truth be told, the Empire’s two chariots had never seen eye to eye.

Callios looked in the direction Rosie had vanished in and spoke coldly.

“Hiding behind others and stirring from the shadows… you’re still the same coward.”

“Everyone has a role to play. And your tongue is still as harsh as ever, Duke.”

“Is there a ‘role’ for someone who never steps forward yet pokes around from behind with words alone?”

It was a sharp attack on the marquis’s position as head of the political faction.

The marquis curled his lips into a thin smile.

“So you were that bothered by being told to do your job? The last time you barged into my jurisdiction, it was me who ended up in trouble because of it.”

The brothel district of Islan fell under the authority of Marquis Midas.

When he brought up the incident involving forbidden sorcery, Callios let out a cold, derisive laugh.

“If you didn’t want that to happen, you should have managed your own district properly from the beginning.”

“From the start, Lady Moavis entering the Islan brothel district alone was a mistake. And of all people, you should know better than anyone how dangerous that area is, Duke. How could you allow a lady to walk into such a place unaccompanied?”

The moment Marquis Midas mentioned Rosie, a vicious k*lling intent shot toward him.

“Why is the marquis concerned about her?”

Callios uncrossed his arms and closed in on him, exuding an intimidating presence.

“And I was with her at the time. Nothing happened, so stop talking nonsense.”

But Marquis Midas, long accustomed to this sort of thing, remained unbothered.

“From what I heard, the baron in charge claimed he didn’t even know the lady went there.”

“Then he reported wrong. Manage your people properly. Your personnel selection is a mess.”

With shameless ease, Callios dismissed the marquis’s subordinate as incompetent. Even Marquis Midas—who had been smiling the entire time—began to show cracks in his expression.

The laughter faded from his eyes as he spoke.

“With that attitude of yours, it’s no wonder Rosie left you.”

Callios’s face darkened instantly. Far more intense than before, a murderous aura erupted like a blade drawn across the spine, stabbing straight at the marquis.

“Say Rosie’s name one more time and I’ll tear that useless mouth of yours apart.”