Becky quickly changed the subject.

Laila was dressed in a black gown that reached her ankles.

At the question, her expression hardened.

“It’s not good for one’s tongue to grow too long.”

Her voice was calm but carried a quiet warning not to pry any further.

Startled, Becky dropped the comb.

“I-I’m sorry, my lady!”

“…No. I must be a bit sensitive after being ill.”

Laila relaxed her expression and gave a faint smile.

“I don’t think I’ve fully recovered yet. Keep it simple.”

“Yes, my lady!”

Becky answered brightly, hurrying to finish dressing her before she risked upsetting her further.

They boarded a carriage and headed toward the square.

The city was bustling with voices.

Passing through the shopping district at a measured pace, the carriage moved steadily toward its destination.

‘Are we going there again?’

Becky had a rough idea.

Laila had not brought along any escort knights today.

Normally, guards would accompany her but today, no one followed.

The carriage stopped in front of the shops.

Laila pulled a robe over herself and handed the driver a gold coin.

“I’ll go alone. Take your time.”

She handed one to Becky as well.

“You’re going somewhere dangerous alone? I’ll come with you!”

Becky clung to her in alarm, startled by the gleaming coin.

People nearby turned to look.

Reluctantly, Laila nodded and began walking.

Becky pocketed the coin she had nearly forgotten to take and hurried after her.

They moved through narrow, winding alleys.

Fallen autumn leaves carpeted the ground like velvet.

Deep inside, an old, worn sign came into view.

Becky admired her mistress’s memory.

Even after coming here so many times, she herself still got lost in this maze.

“Stay here and do your part.”

With that, Laila disappeared into the building.

Becky headed toward the counter, planning to treat herself with the gold coin.

Most of the patrons occupying the seats were mercenaries, but the atmosphere wasn’t particularly hostile.

‘It’s almost been a year since my lady started coming here…’

Becky sipped her drink, lost in thought.

Each time Laila failed to find what she was looking for and returned empty-handed, Becky couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

Hopefully, this time would be different.

“Ah, my lady!”

Becky spotted Laila emerging.

“Did everything go well?”

She whispered as she followed her out.

Then she noticed something odd.

In Laila’s hand was a balloon shaped like a puppy.

In the other, a few pieces of candy.

Becky tilted her head.

“Do you want it?”

Perhaps mistaking her gaze for longing, Laila handed her the balloon.

“Take it.”

“O-oh, no, my lady!”

“It would be better with you than with me.”

Laila spoke indifferently.

After a brief hesitation, Becky accepted the cute balloon.

“…Thank you.”

“Let’s go.”

Laila walked ahead.

They passed through the quiet alley and returned to the square, boarding the carriage once more.

On the way back to the estate, Becky stared at the balloon in her hands.

Then she glanced at Laila.

Her mistress was opening a sealed envelope labeled with an unfamiliar name Richel Misheli.

Curiosity flickered in Becky’s eyes.

“Are you curious, Becky?”

“N-no, my lady.”

Becky flinched.

She remembered Laila’s sharp tone from earlier and grew cautious.

Laila studied her quietly before speaking.

“It’s a house I purchased under my name in Cheruaton.”

“Cheruaton?”

Becky’s voice rose in surprise.

Cheruaton, a region far from southern Zeronia, separated by a vast mountain range.

“Yes. It would be troublesome if others found out… so shall we keep it just between us?”

For a moment, Becky stood frozen.

Then, at the word secret, she nodded quickly.

She would never do anything to trouble her mistress.

Unless it meant removing whatever stood in Laila’s way.

‘Richel Misheli….’

Becky’s cheeks flushed with excitement.

‘That name suits my lady so well!’

She had heard that using aliases was common among nobles.

And she liked the unfamiliar, foreign sound of it.

“Yes, of course I’ll keep it a secret! I would never do anything that might trouble you, my lady.”

Laila quietly watched Becky, who was burning with loyalty.

For a fleeting moment, her violet eyes wavered something like sadness, or perhaps something closer to resentment.

“My lady?”

The moment passed so quickly it felt like an illusion.

By then, the carriage had already stopped at the estate.

As Laila stepped down with the knight’s assistance, she spoke in a flat tone.

“Let’s go inside. It should be about time for Vincent to return.”

Becky’s expression darkened.

It pained her that something so obvious was something her perceptive mistress seemed blind to.

Why was it that love clouded a person’s eyes so completely?

The Duke would not return tonight.

She was certain of it.

And yet, her lady would wait.

‘Still… maybe…’

Like yesterday, perhaps he might appear unexpectedly.

Becky held onto that small seed of hope but as everyone had expected, Vincent Loardy did not return that night.

Several weeks passed.

One day, Vincent returned to the estate and ran into his great aunt in the corridor.

Chloe Loardy stood there, followed by the head maid and several attendants.

Seeing four or five people blocking the wide hallway, Vincent frowned deeply.

Even within the estate, his great aunt maintained the airs of nobility and he found it suffocating.

“Have you made any progress with your wife?”

Chloe asked casually.

“Don’t meddle in matters of children.”

His tone sharpened immediately.

At the unwanted attention, Vincent raised his brows in irritation.

Chloe blinked slowly, her expression perfectly composed, before speaking.

“Sometimes I wonder what the problem is. Neither your mother nor your father had any issues.”

Vincent’s lips twisted crookedly.

Instead of answering, he turned his gaze to the intricately patterned canopy nearby.

“Maybe I went mad from being loved too much. They say too much love can be poison.”

“Yes… sometimes it is.”

And just like that, the conversation ended.

Like an actress finishing her part, Chloe looked at him calmly, without a single change in expression.

Vincent paid her no mind.

He pulled a cigarette from his coat and passed her by.

Whenever he saw Chloe Loardy, his mood soured.

He brushed a hand over his neck.

He could feel his pulse beating faintly beneath his skin.

His crimson eyes darkened.

Entering the empty bedroom, Vincent rolled up the sleeves of his black jacket impulsively.

Firm muscles and taut veins stood out against his bare skin.

He lay back on the bed, covering his face with one hand as he smoked lazily.

“Vincent.”

Just as the cigarette was nearly burned out, a soft voice reached him unexpectedly.

Laila had come to find him.

Vincent stared at her silently, the cigarette still held between his fingers.

Their eyes met and neither looked away.

He slowly exhaled smoke.

To an outsider, his movements would seem relaxed, leisurely but inside, he was unsettled.

Since that night, this was the first time he had truly looked at her.

He drew on the cigarette again, studying her carefully.

She had looked sick before but now her cheeks had regained some color.

“Vincent.”

“……”

“Today is our scheduled day. I thought you might have forgotten, so I came to remind you.”

She spoke calmly.

There was no awkwardness, no hesitation despite seeing her husband after so long.

Something about her words stirred a strange feeling in him.

But it was quickly swallowed by irritation.

When she said she hated him why come here now?

“…Did my great aunt pressure you about having a child?”

Vincent asked, forcing his brows to relax.

It hadn’t even been hours since he saw Chloe.

The timing felt too precise to ignore.

“No.”

Laila met his gaze steadily.

“Why would you think that?”

“…Because otherwise, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Is it strange for a wife to fulfill her duties?”

Her calm question made his expression falter.

His throat felt tight, as if something was constricting it.

He loosened the button at his collar.

‘Is it strange…? Was it strange?’

She wasn’t wrong.

Marriage meant producing an heir.

That was a noble’s duty.

It was obvious.

And yet, it felt unfamiliar to him.

Until now, Vincent had lived however he pleased, ignoring duty and propriety.

That simple truth now felt oddly heavy.

“Hoo…”

Even so, something still felt unresolved.

He exhaled a cloud of smoke.

Vincent wasn’t a fool.

He knew well enough, he was not a good husband.

“Why?”

He asked quietly.

“About this ‘duty.’ Why are you so diligent about it?”

“Because, as your wife—”

That was exactly it.

That obvious answer irritated him.

The empire’s infamous rake and her determination to bear his child.

“…Forget it.”

Why was he overthinking something so simple?

“I’ll come tonight.”

He spoke indifferently, looking away from her.

His tone had lowered slightly.

“…I’ll be waiting.”

Her voice carried a hint of excitement.

When he turned back, her cheeks were faintly flushed, her expression bright with anticipation.

For a moment, Vincent simply stared at her.

Perhaps it was the lingering smoke but a bitter taste filled his mouth.