Janet recalled what he had said on their wedding night.

⟨Your shame at showing me that body would be far less torturous than my disgust at seeing it.⟩

So it was natural that he would hate being the subject of such questions in connection with Janet.

But they would likely face similar suspicions and be summoned like this several more times.

They already had a boat trip scheduled on the Druvegan River next week.

Janet felt inexplicably uncomfortable.

In her case, compared to other occasions, today had actually been easier.

The emperor was merely showing interest with sparkling eyes. Unlike usual gatherings… he wasn’t trying to elevate one side while tearing down the other.

To the emperor, everyone seemed the same. A person born into legitimacy without even the common narrative of having a commoner mother. Someone who had truly walked an easy path with noble blood.

For him, the fact that one was a duke and one was a commoner wasn’t really something to dwell on.

In fact, this visit to the imperial palace had been good for Janet.

Opportunities to see deep inside the imperial palace didn’t come easily.

From small details like the palace tableware and dishes to the larger murals decorating the walls—it had been an inspiring experience for her.

But not for Rihanel.

The fact that it was only good for her made Janet acutely aware of how unbalanced this scale was.

‘Even when we went to the cathedral… I ended up not fulfilling Rihanel’s request.’

Her heart stung a little.

She felt urgent about ensuring this marriage had value for Rihanel too.

That’s what she had been thinking about for the past week.

It would take more time for Janet to establish herself at the company, thanks to the social stigma of being a criminal that she could never shake off.

At the very least, she couldn’t be underqualified in her role as a noble. She wanted to prevent any disturbances as much as possible.

For a value exchange to work, the other party must benefit too. So this marriage truly needed to be worth Rihanel’s commitment.

‘I really am a merchant, just as Rihanel said.’

But what could she do? Thanks to that merchant-like thinking, she could set foot in that company building. And… walk side by side with Rihanel now.

“Rihanel.”

As soon as they entered the second-floor corridor, Rihanel turned in the opposite direction. Janet spoke before he could walk away.

“Do you not need the wound today?”

In Janet’s current assessment, this was the most valuable thing she could offer him.

Whatever Rihanel had gained from this marriage, it clearly wasn’t as desperate as her situation. So Janet needed to give him the best she could offer.

Rihanel raised his eyebrows at Janet’s question. Something seemed to displease him, but he didn’t refuse.

“Tonight.”

He stared intently at Janet.

“I’ll come to your room tonight.”

Then he turned and strode purposefully to his room. Janet quietly watched his retreating figure before turning away.

“Janet.”

Well past midnight. A low voice accompanied the closing door. Rihanel’s gaze was always cold, but his voice when calling her name was gentle.

This was not a good thing for Janet. Because of that soft voice, she sometimes forgot what their relationship really was.

Like in those days when she could expect his goodwill.

“You’re later than I expected.”

Janet, sitting at the table, shook off her thoughts and brought over a box. At least now, it was clear she couldn’t have expectations of him.

“I had things to handle.”

The man, wearing a robe over his nightwear, appeared to have just finished bathing. His still-damp black hair created a sensual atmosphere.

“I thought you’d be asleep.”

“Rihanel said he would come.”

Even if it was late, how could she sleep when they had an appointment? It was a perfectly reasonable statement, but Rihanel didn’t seem to think so.

“Yes, that’s like you.”

He walked past Janet toward the window. After drawing the curtains, the bright moon and black sky were no longer visible.

Rihanel leaned against the now-covered window and beckoned to Janet.

“Come here, Janet.”

His quiet voice seemed somehow mesmerizing. To avoid being deceived by it, Janet steadfastly gazed at Rihanel as she moved toward him.

The man reflected in her eyes was calling her to inflict wounds. She must not forget that fact.

Meanwhile, Rihanel was trying his best not to show his discomfort. He had been doing so since they went to the imperial palace today.

Janet was the woman he so despised, but her being treated rudely by others was a separate matter.

As ridiculous as it seemed even to himself, Rihanel disliked seeing Janet treated that way.

This was probably because they weren’t the ones harmed by Janet’s actions.

Hating and avoiding Janet was Rihanel’s right. The sight of other irrelevant bastards passing judgment was not at all welcome.

When Janet collapsed at Philodis Cathedral…

His feelings of disgust after seeing her memories then were likely for similar reasons.

But even with such rationalization, what he couldn’t understand was…

That moment of holding her hand, pretending to be affectionate lovers and sharing those conversations, had been somewhat pleasing.

And as if to remind him that such feelings were useless, Janet said,

To make the wound.

To quickly finish what needed to be done between them.

“Well, how shall we do this?”

Janet approached and took out a knife from the box with an expressionless face. The knife, drawn from a jewel-encrusted sheath, showed no trace of the previous blood, having been well cleaned.

Rihanel stared at the knife for a moment, then reached out to grasp Janet’s arm.

There was space left even holding it with one hand. For an instant, he felt almost guilty.

“Here.”

To shake off that useless emotion, Rihanel roughly rolled up Janet’s sleeve to her shoulder.

“Like this.”

He drew an X-mark with his index finger near Janet’s shoulder on her left arm.

Feeling the mark being drawn like a tickle on her bare skin, Janet’s eyes flickered with emotion. Rihanel stared at her intently, not wanting to miss that movement of feeling.

The meaning of the two lines intersecting diagonally was clear.

Wrong, incorrect, failure.

Whether that referred to Janet herself, or the precarious tightrope they stood on together.

The X-mark drawn on Janet’s arm would follow her for at least weeks, if not months.

“This must be entertaining for Rihanel.”

Janet’s emotion didn’t last long.

The direct and primal act of inflicting wounds, with the added meaning of negating her—wasn’t that the ultimate sadistic pleasure?

“I appreciate your understanding.”

Rihanel released her arm and placed his hand back on the windowsill where he sat. Meanwhile, Janet brought the knife to her left shoulder.

A momentary silence filled the room.

Slowly, as if tattooing herself, she drew a line. As the knife passed, a red line appeared, then dark blood flowed down.

Despite being a foreseeable sight—no, a sight he had summoned—Rihanel couldn’t help feeling dizzy for a moment. He gripped the windowsill tightly.

It wasn’t over yet.

Janet drew another line crossing the first one. Pain showed on her furrowed brow. Yet the woman neither moaned nor shed tears.

Should he call it tough or dignified?

The deep red liquid flowed down from the X-mark. Only then did Rihanel take out a handkerchief to wipe the blood pooling at her elbow.

As if enjoying it.

With the corners of his mouth turned up.

“It suits you well.”

“…I suppose it does.”

His movements in wiping the blood became rough. Shouldn’t she protest when he said the X-mark suited her? Her obvious accommodation of him was irritating.

He had been carefully holding the handkerchief to avoid touching her until all the blood was wiped away, but with the rough movement, red blood finally stained his fingers.

“Team Ready versus Volta, bet on your instincts and walk away with winnings!”

Without warning, boisterous noise pierced their ears.

“It’s about to start, how exciting!”

“Hey!! Clear those chairs from underfoot!”

A noise so loud that it made his body jolt rang through his head.

‘This place….’

It was the stadium where amateur soccer matches were held. Countless people gathered in a circle around a large area set up on a field.

“Ah.”

Rihanel turned to the familiar voice. A woman was staggering, jostled by the crowd.

A woman around nineteen, with a white face still retaining some baby fat—it was Janet Wilton from five years ago.

Rihanel instinctively reached out to steady her. However, someone else supported Janet from behind before he could.

“Thank y—”

Janet froze as she turned around.

And for good reason. The person standing behind her…

Was the man she had abandoned three years ago.

“……It’s been a while.”

Janet stared at him blankly before snapping back to reality and greeting him. At the time he hadn’t noticed, but looking back now, her voice had even trembled a little.

“Nel. I didn’t expect to… meet like this.”

Yes, this was when Janet Wilton still knew him as Nel Siphren.

But to Rihanel, it was an almost unfamiliar name. He hadn’t been called that for almost three years.

“Rather than saying it’s been a while, it might be better to say nice to meet you for the first time. I’ve abandoned that name.”

“Abandoned your name…?”

“Yes. Now I’m Rihanel Reynes.”

Janet blinked her wide eyes and nodded as if understanding the situation.

“You were adopted. Congratulations.”

Adopted? As if there was anyone in the world who would adopt him. It was a conclusion typical of a woman who had lived seeing only good things in nice places.