“Y-you—why are you here?”

Charles, his face gone ashen, asked in a trembling voice. He’d kept his eyes peeled in case Fiona showed up at the wedding—so when had she slipped inside? Ah—had she snuck in during the brief moment he’d stepped away to see Charlotte?

D*mn it! I never should have let my guard down then!

If he dragged Fiona out this very instant, could he still avoid the worst? No—from the ugly mood in the air, it was obvious Fiona had already said it.

That she slept with me…!

Charles meant to deny it, flat out, no matter what. It wasn’t as though there was any proof they’d been together!

The instant his mouth fell open to speak, Fiona said, on the verge of tears,

“Charles, I’m carrying your child…”

Charlotte dragged in several great gulps of air, like someone who had been running a long time. Charles, by contrast, looked like a man who had forgotten how to breathe.

M-my child?

He must have misheard. Of course. Of course he had.

Moving only his eyes, Charles fixed his gaze on Fiona. She had both hands cupped over her flat stomach. His face contorted in an instant.

“What is this all of a sudden! You told me you’d been taking the pill the whole—!”

Having blurted it out in a flash of temper, Charles clapped his hands over his mouth and stole a look at Charlotte. Her face had drained white.

“Ch-Charlotte. So, the thing is…”

As Charles stammered out meaningless words in a trembling voice, Fiona burst into a flood of tears and crumpled to the floor.

“Charlotte, I’m sorry. I really did mean to keep those days with Charles as nothing more than a sweet dream. I never, ever imagined a baby would come to me so suddenly like this…”

“Wh-will you shut your mouth?!”

Charles bellowed at Fiona. But her mouth would not stop.

“I know how cruel it is to confess this to you of all times, now of all moments. But staying silent felt like it would only deceive you more…”

Charles’s face flushed crimson, as though the blood had rushed backward through him. Deceive, nothing—Fiona should have kept her mouth shut. She should have come to him after the wedding was over!

Charlotte, meanwhile, felt her mind go blank.

What on earth is this…

Today was her wedding. The day she was getting… married. The day she would become family with Charles and begin a new life…

Ngh…!

As if she were standing on a swaying deck, her stomach churned, and merely staying upright was a struggle.

When Charlotte’s body finally swayed, unable to bear it any longer, a startled Marge caught and steadied her.

“My lady!”

Charles came toward Charlotte and tried to support her.

“Ch-Charlotte! Are you all right?”

Charlotte struck his hand away with a hand utterly drained of strength. Charles stared blankly at his hand hanging in midair, then, with a look of sudden alarm, hurried to make his excuses.

“Ch-Charlotte. Listen to me. I have no idea what she’s talking about. She’s just spouting nonsense all on her own, I swear!”

“And yet a moment ago the pill came out of your own mouth?”

“Ah, that’s, well…”

D*mn it, why did I have to go and let that slip!

Charles swallowed hard. He had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to handle this mess. And through it all, one thing was certain—right now, in the hall, the guests were waiting for them.

Charles spoke in a hurried tone.

“What happened with her was just—a mistake. Truly! You know I have no one but you!”

“No one but me…”

Charlotte murmured in a voice on the verge of tears.

“You have no one but me, and this is what happens?”

“That’s why I told you—it was a mistake!”

“No, Charles. This isn’t the kind of thing you call a mistake…”

Charlotte had known her marriage would be unhappy. But she had believed that, so long as she had Charles, she could endure it. Even without the grand love one might find in a novel, the two of them had a long history together. She had trusted in those years. Even if it wasn’t a life of being unable to live without each other, she had believed they could live leaning on one another, comforting one another. Achingly seething passion was not the only kind of love, and so she had thought she would have no hesitation in saying I love you for the rest of her life.

“How could you do something like this to me?”

Charlotte’s voice was muffled, as if submerged underwater. Charles cried out, his face ashen.

“Please, Charlotte. I know you’re upset. I’ve committed a sin worthy of death. But we can’t just blow up the wedding like this, can we? Hm? If we call off the ceremony now, none of us will be able to hold our heads up in public!”

Charlotte’s eyelids trembled. As if she didn’t know that. The events of today would echo everywhere. But there was a problem far more important than worrying about such things.

“And Fiona? The child in Fiona’s belly? And me—what about me?”

Charlotte muttered, dragging in ragged breaths. Charles answered hastily.

“I’ll take care of it myself. I’ll make sure no trouble comes to you!”

Charlotte shook her head. The situation was already beyond all control.

“Charles. I can’t marry you. I couldn’t do it if it killed me.”

“Ch-Charlotte. Please! You’re just worked up right now! Think about it calmly for once! If you don’t marry me, how are you going to live? And was this marriage something we decided on our own? It was Viscount Prairie’s choice!”

At the mention of her father, Charlotte’s eyes wavered piteously. Seeing it, Charles drew his trembling lips upward.

“Charlotte, surely the Viscount as well would…”

It was just as Charles reached his hand toward Charlotte. Marge swiftly stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

“What do you think you’re doing right now?”

Charles—always so warm and considerate—drove Marge back with a voice brimming with menace. Marge swallowed hard and said to Charlotte,

“Let’s go, my lady.”

Charlotte’s eyes, murky and sunken, came back into focus.

“I assure you—Viscount Prairie will be deeply satisfied with the choice you’ve just made. He’ll surely praise you and tell you that you did well.”

Hot tears welled up in Charlotte’s eyes. As she nodded, the tears brimming and trembling there finally spilled over, streaming down her dry cheeks in rivulets.

Startled by Charlotte’s tears, Charles froze. Not missing the chance, Marge took hold of Charlotte’s arm and led her out of the waiting room.

“Charlotte…!”

Charles called after her, too late, but she did not look back. Part of him thought he should chase her down and stop her, but his feet had gone rigid and would not move.

Charlotte, for her part, felt a suffocating tightness in her chest.

I can’t see well.

She needed to get out of this dreadful place at once, but her vision kept going dark, and walking properly was a struggle. Perhaps if she took off this stifling veil she’d feel a little better. In the end, Charlotte removed the veil. She knew her hair was a mess, but she didn’t care.

In the hall, meanwhile, the guests murmured, puzzled by the leads who had yet to appear though the hour had come.

“What in the…”

Seated in the very front row, Viscountess Roman lifted herself from her seat and looked back to check. Viscount Roman, his mood thoroughly soured, snapped at his wife in irritation.

“What are you doing? Sit down this instant!”

“Is this really the time for that? The children aren’t coming…!”

Just then, Charlotte passed by the entrance of the hall and caught Viscountess Roman’s eye. Her hair, disheveled from the veil she’d carelessly torn off and tossed aside, looked thoroughly unseemly.

And just where does she think she’s going?!

Viscountess Roman shot up from her seat. By the time the puzzled guests turned to follow her gaze, Charlotte had already stepped out into a world of drizzling rain.

The hem of her dress was a ruined mess of muddy water, and the gown, soaked through with rain, was heavy beyond words. Even so, Charlotte did not stop.

Marge could have told her to wait while she called for a carriage, but she knew that getting Charlotte away from that dreadful hall as quickly as possible was what served her best, and so she did not check her steps.

* * *

A month had passed since that dreadful day.

“…Haah.”

Stirring awake in bed, Charlotte opened her eyes, then closed them again. The moment she did, the face of Viscountess Roman—who had stormed into the house on the day of the wedding—rose up vivid in her mind.

[You out of your mind little fool!]

She struck Charlotte across the cheek and hurled *buse at her.

[How dare you shame us? Putting your low breeding on display on a day this important—what exactly are you trying to do?!]

After huffing and snorting for a good while, she steadied her breath with effort and said,

[I’ve told everyone you suddenly collapsed. If we hold the ceremony again first thing tomorrow—]

[I am never going through with that marriage.]

[Have you… lost your mind!]

[The one who’s lost his mind is Charles!]

Charlotte shouted. The Viscountess was no small bit shaken at the sight of Charlotte raising her voice at her for the first time.

[S-so now, at this late hour, you want to call off the marriage? Do you intend never to set foot in society again for the rest of your life?]

[It’ll be hard to hold my head up from the shame. But isn’t it the same for Charles? No—Charles should be the more shamed of the two!]

[Ha! And why would my son be?]

[Do you not know what Charles has done?]

The Viscountess scoffed and curled up one corner of her mouth.

[What Charles did isn’t important. What matters is that I will protect my son!]

At the preposterous remark, Charlotte’s eyes narrowed of their own accord.

[My son will walk with his head held high. You, by contrast, will suffer no end of hardship—but once we’re strangers from here on, what’s it to me? Isn’t that right?]

Not long after the Viscountess went huffing back home, Viscount Roman came to Charlotte and pressed her. A man was bound to make mistakes, he said—just reconsider one more time. But to the very end, Charlotte never gave him the answer he wanted. His expression hardening coldly, Viscount Roman said this had been her one and only chance, and that he would never lay eyes on her face again for the rest of his life, then brushed himself off and went on his way.

Charles kept coming to see her for a while. But not once did Charlotte agree to meet him. And when about a week had passed, Charles, too, stopped coming.

The ending of a long-held bond was an astonishingly simple thing.