The Countess Nelasidad did not survive the winter and passed away. Vincent glanced sideways with an expressionless face at Laila, who wore a gloomy look.

She was dressed in black mourning clothes, and so was he. One way or another, the two had become husband and wife, and he had no choice but to show his face at the Countess’s memorial in formality. Regardless of whether she was Laila’s stepmother or not.

“Hah….”

He slowly reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a cigarette pack. Then, thinking it improper, he hesitated and shoved it back in. He leaned against the wall with irritation.

“…….”

It was a modest funeral. The countess, once a commoner, had few acquaintances.

Few nobles had bothered to come this far.

Those who did, were likely here just to make their presence known to him.

Vincent scoffed inwardly and glanced at a small cluster of mourners gathered near a table.

“I wonder what will happend to the count’s succession.”

A small whisper was heard. It landed precisely in Vincent’s ears, which had developed a keen sense of hearing. He listened in to the conversation with curiosity.

“Well, one daughter has married into House Loardy, and the other… isn’t even of his blood.”

‘Not of his blood?’

Vincent raised a brow. Then he remembered. The girl the count had brought with his new wife.

A child unrelated by blood and known as a fool.

“She must have come because it was her mother who died.”

Following the people’s gazes, he turned his head and saw a pink-haired woman sitting beside the count. Amusingly enough, the so-called child was a fully grown woman. Her pale face made her look as though she truly understood that her mother had died.

“Hmm.”

Vincent slowly rubbed his chin. What would happen now? With the Countess dead, the bond with the stepdaughter was severed as well. He turned his head, thinking about it idly. When Laila’s face came into view, the deal they had made suddenly came to mind.

‘I gave her the Mudokhwa back then……’

A curious point nagged at him. He did not know what illness the Countess had, but if the Mudokhwa had been used, any poison-related illness should have been cured. And her body would have become immune to poison.

‘Then why……’

His thoughts stretched on without thinking. Vincent cut off the flow of his consciousness and closed his eyes. He utterly detested anything complicated. Even if there was some particular reason, it was none of his business.

“…….”

Before long, the mourners began to leave one by one. Soon, footsteps ceased entirely.

A cold stillness settled over the memorial. Vincent glanced up at the sky, timing when he might slip away. Then, heavy footsteps echoed as someone entered.

“Hah?”

A man with bright blond hair, out of place against the gloomy weather. Vincent frowned the moment he recognized him. Ethan Douglas. So the righteous b*stard had come even to a place like this.

Vincent’s expression shifted as he watched Ethan offer his condolences. Ethan spoke briefly, then Laila guided him to a seat. That was enough. Vincent slipped outside.

Drip, drip.

The sky was heavy with clouds.

Cold air pressed in, and rain began to fall, dampening one side of his shoulder.

His ash-gray hair grew wet, but he paid it no mind.

Calmly, he lit a cigarette.

‘What’s so important about someone dying?’

Vincent’s red eyes grew deeply heavy.

He had lost his parents at fifteen. His great-aunt, who had divorced that same year, returned to House Loardy, and from then on, she had managed the estate.

They were not particularly close. They never had been. But she had helped him maintain the house and secure his inheritance. And as a child forced into the role of head, he had needed someone. That was the only reason he took her hand.

***

Time passed quickly.

Spring came, then summer, and soon autumn arrived.

Vincent crushed fallen leaves beneath his feet, lost in thought.

‘Has that much time already passed?’

It had nearly been a year since he married Laila Nelasidad.

Nothing much had changed.

Vincent still slept late, only rising well past noon.

He went to the imperial palace whenever he pleased.

His habits were a mess.

And Laila…

She had settled into the ducal household without issue.

More precisely, she had blended in so naturally that, at times, it caught him off guard.

‘…Did she go to see my great-aunt?’

He glanced at the empty space beside him.

When he woke, Laila was already gone.

“Whatever. Probably went for her morning greetings.”

Vincent dismissed it and began preparing for the party he planned to attend that day.

“Vincent, where are you going?”

His hand paused as he fastened his cufflinks.

At the soft voice, he turned his head.

Laila stood at the doorway.

“…Why do you want to know?”

He answered blunty.

She said nothing.

She only looked at him with that same strange gaze.

The silence stretched.

Vincent frowned.

‘What is it?’

For a moment, he wondered if something about him looked ridiculous.

He quickly checked his reflection.

His usually unruly silver-gray hair had been neatly styled.

He looked perfectly composed.

‘Then why… ah.’

Vincent let out a short sigh.

Only then did he notice the ill-fitting formalwear on his body.

Perhaps he had put on more muscle, the jacket was too tight, the hem slightly short.

D*mn it.

He muttered under his breath.

The fabric strained against his frame, looking as though it might tear.

‘Did she notice?’

He scratched the back of his neck.

It had been a long time since he last attended a party.

The last time he had ordered new formalwear was half a year ago.

“…You need to fulfill your obligation tonight.”

At that moment, Laila spoke.

An unspoken demand for him to return early.

Vincent’s gaze left the mirror as his brows furrowed.

“Since when do you get to interfere in my private life?”

His tone turned sharp.

Anyone watching would have felt the chill.

“…Vincent.”

Laila called his name again.

He walked past her without stopping.

If the argument dragged on, he would be at a disadvantage.

Leaving the estate, Vincent headed toward the Viscount’s residence where the party was being held.

As he went, he brushed at his uniform repeatedly as though doing so could erase the lingering image of Laila’s violet eyes from his mind.

At the banquet, most of the capital’s young nobles had gathered.

Vincent ignored the stares around him and exhaled cigar smoke freely.

It had been a long time since he attended such an event, yet his mood remained sour.

“Still alive? Marriage must be keeping you busy.”

Milian, the host and his friend, spoke first.

“…Just getting by.”

Vincent replied dryly, taking another drag.

As the smoke settled, his mood improved slightly.

“How is Lady Loardy? Any news?”

At the mention of pregnancy, Vincent’s expression darkened.

He had no desire for children.

“You’re clearly not impotent… so maybe the problem’s with your wife?”

“What problem?”

Vincent asked flatly.

“Well… either you’re the problem, or Lady Loardy—”

Milian meant it as a joke.

But Vincent reacted sharply, an unexplainable irritation rising within him.

“Are you done talking?”

The words came out before he could stop them.

Rumors about him being impotent could easily be disproven there were plenty of women who knew otherwise.

But such gossip always harmed the woman more.

The irritation lingered.

And the fact that he felt irritated at all made it worse.

Laila was not someone he needed to care about.

And yet, his mood soured regardless.

“Hey, now—”

Milian began awkwardly, sensing the shift in mood.

“Oh dear, if our esteemed Duke doesn’t stir up trouble, how am I supposed to make money?”

A laughing voice cut in.

Baron Siole approached.

A man of similar disposition to Vincent, perhaps even worse.

He sold stories about his own friends to tabloids, after all.

Vincent, however, had never cared much.

“It’s been hard to see your face lately, Your Grace. You haven’t been to parties in ages.”

Siole lit a cigarette as he spoke.

Before marriage, Vincent would never have missed a night gathering.

“Do I look like you?”

Vincent snapped, forcing down his irritation.

Despite everything, he had not met another woman during his marriage.

Not because he chose not to, it had simply turned out that way.

‘How long will this marriage last?’

‘Has that imperial troublemaker truly turned over a new leaf?’

He had heard the rumors.

Ridiculous.

He had half a mind to parade another woman around just to prove them wrong.

Once people saw it with their own eyes, the rumors would vanish.

“…Hah.”

But the Emperor’s restriction had forced changes upon him.

After he was allowed to attend parties again, the Countess of Nelasidad had died.

Between that and everything else, it felt… inappropriate to see other women.

“You’re still living like that?”

Vincent glanced at Siole’s wrist.

A gleaming silver watch caught the light.

It looked expensive worth the price of two estates, at least.

“A gift from the woman I’m seeing now.”

Siole grinned.

Vincent’s face twisted.

Last time he checked, the man had been seeing five women at once.

“…You’re unbelievable.”

Vincent muttered.

It seemed the world was particularly harsh toward him alone.

He crushed his cigarette out irritably.

“It’s impressive you haven’t been caught.”

“And how could I compare to you, the empire’s most infamous rake?”

Siole laughed.

As the owner of a major publication, he controlled much of the capital’s gossip.

He was also largely responsible for Vincent’s title the libertine of high society.

‘Then again, it would be stranger if he wrote scandals about himself.’

Vincent raised a brow.

He wondered, not for the first time, how he had ended up with such a friend.

He began to stand.

“So, Vincent’s finally tied down now, huh?”

Milian smoothly changed the subject.

“You know, the thing you always say.”

“Oh, the sea story?”

“Yeah, that one! Still planning to wander off and live freely?”

Milian continued.

“You’ll be having children in the empire now. You’re tied down for good. Since it’s come to this, try getting along with your wife.”