Whenever the phantom pain in her chest resurfaced, Dalia would clench her hand hidden under her skirt.

Her fist, so tight that it lost all color and turned white, contrasted with her smile, which never broke.

All the pain of the past was long gone. And so Dalia chose to listen attentively to the praise for Curtis that poured from the mouths of those gathered around her.

Not a single word was dismissed as unnecessary, and she did what needed to be done. For example

“Not even the holy flame of the central temple can compare to His grace! How could anyone have such sculpted features, as if carved by the greatest artist! And those broad shoulders and arms that even his clothes cannot hide!”

She nodded in agreement with the exaggerated praise.

“As I mentioned several times, if His Grace hadn’t warned us, there could have been a disaster at the mine. He has been a great benefactor to our family.”

Dalia blushed shyly as she listened to the deeply grateful words of an aristocratic lady.

“I heard that the Foreign Minister, who was struggling with the smuggling problem, received help from the Duke.”

“He is the one who helped find the rare tea that the king was looking for, and the chief steward of the central palace expresses his gratitude to the Duke.”

“The painting style that the Duke looked at has spread across the continent, and now even those who have no appreciation for art are enjoying it.”

The words continued to flow.

Words. Words. Words.

Each of these words, without exception, sang the praises of Curtis Fraser’s perfection and greatness.

There were also subtle glances of contempt and envy directed at the “Lucky Duchess” which they thought went unnoticed.

As the words continued to flow, blending past and present like a muddy mess, Dalia simply smiled.

Her mouth was almost hidden, as if ink had been spilled on her face, but she didn’t miss a word, responding to each one.

“Because he’s the Duke.”

It wasn’t difficult. She just nodded and repeated the same line like a parrot.

Everything has an end. As the endless praise for Curtis Fraser began to die down, the looks directed at Dalia began to shift, becoming more direct and open than before.

Ignoring the subtle tension between them and the quick glances back and forth, Dalia lowered her eyes to the half-empty teacup.

That should do for today.

How long would it take for the gossip to spread that the Duchess of Fraser was so devoted to her husband, paying attention to even the smallest details, while Curtis continued to pay no attention to her?

Perhaps two days? Or maybe it wouldn’t even take a few hours after her departure – certainly not to the entire Empire, but the ears of the capital’s high society might catch wind of it.

If this had happened before her return, she would have shuddered at the situation. People who couldn’t even make eye contact with her when they were face to face would gather secretly in hidden places, talking about her, mocking her, laughing out loud.

But not now. Let them speak out loud. In fact, she felt like applauding them and encouraging them to laugh even louder.

In the unlikely event that Curtis begins to suspect foul play in her poisoning and begins to explore other possibilities, the testimony of those around her would certainly be helpful.

The Duchess would never commit suicide while her husband was still alive. That’s true. Even after being humiliated in so many ways, she still attends the meetings where Curtis is praised, showing how deep her love for him is.

As Dalia flashed a graceful smile at those who would help her escape in the guise of death, she couldn’t hold back when the itching curiosity got the better of her and asked, just as she put down her teacup.

“So, will you be accompanying the Duke to the New Year’s celebration at the Central Temple?”

It was a question from a young lady, her sparkling eyes revealing her excitement and anticipation, eager for others to notice her in this situation.

The people around her slightly furrowed their brows and showed subtle signs of hesitation, but Dalia waved them away, signaling them to stop.

“Of course. He wouldn’t refuse an official invitation from the temple.”

It was a rather vague answer. Depending on how it was interpreted, one could assume that Curtis wouldn’t attend the event without an official invitation… but Dalia had something else in mind.

If the event wasn’t official, Curtis wouldn’t accompany her. However, those who were already rolling their eyes would probably spread the latter interpretation, not the former.

It would probably be better if they mocked Dalia and idolized Curtis.

Now it’s time to put the final nail in the coffin. As a duchess, she lacks manners and dignity, but as a woman deeply in love, her reaction is just right.

Dalia, seemingly shy, half lowers her eyes and quietly adds, “I’m eagerly awaiting the day I’ll be with him.”

 The delightful tea that everyone had enjoyed was coming to an end.

***

Time passed quietly, but in high society a small flame began to spark around the words Dalia had cast.

After attending Countess Lapir’s tea party, Dalia made a few more appearances at gatherings where gossip was the main attraction, further fueling the rumors.

With a clear purpose, Dalia subtly revealed bits and pieces of her life as a duchess, like crumbs from a cookie, to catch people’s attention and *rouse their primal curiosity.

Then, slowly and shyly, she began to reveal her secret love for Curtis. Predictably, her humble, almost pitiful love for her husband spread throughout high society.

People who had only whispered about it before now spoke openly, driven by a sudden, unfounded courage, and only the more refined individuals frowned and stopped talking.

Sitting in the library of Duke Fraser and the Duchess, Dalia watched with satisfaction as the fire she had lit burned brightly.

She picked up her quill and tilted her head.

“The temple’s annual event.”

The day she had promised to appear at Curtis’ side was fast approaching.

The only time Dalia accompanied Curtis to an event was when there were mandatory official occasions that the Duke and Duchess had to attend throughout the year.

These included events such as the spring New Year’s ceremony at the temple or the charity event traditionally hosted by the Fraser family.

On a national level, these included the country’s founding anniversary and the Emperor’s birthday.

However, Curtis was not required to attend the birthdays of other members of the royal family, so he did not go.

Although there were still elders in the Fraser family, after Curtis passed on the title of Duke, they returned to their estates and lived in seclusion.

As a result, Dalia was the one who usually attended family events to offer her greetings and pay her respects.

It had been only two years since she had married him. She had visited the Fraser estate once. She had been extremely nervous then, but nothing significant had happened – it was almost too uneventful.

“Yes, the Gruy family.”

“Yes.”

“Take good care of the inadequate one.”

The late Duke and Duchess greeted her with an indifferent attitude, neither warmly welcoming nor dismissing her. They gently patted Dalia’s shoulder, which was tense with nervousness, and she looked pale.
At her wedding to Curtis, the late Duke and Duchess didn’t say much either. They simply offered their congratulations and brief good wishes.

At the time, she thought she was too undemanding for the position of Duchess of Fraser and assumed they disliked her. No, even until her regression she had thought that.

But now, with clear eyes after the end of the blind love and the lifting of her widowhood, she looked back and saw that the late Duke and Duchess didn’t hate her at all. Rather.

“They seemed worried.”

Like father, like son. It must be a Fraser family tradition, for their expressions are always so neutral and their voices so flat that it is easy to misinterpret.

But the words and gestures the late Duke and Duchess had offered her were all cautious, even with a hint of sympathy.

Hmm. It’s not ‘like father, like son’. To say that would be a grave injustice to the late Duke and Duchess.

Dalia, who had been nodding to herself, shook her shoulders slightly and stood up. It was time to go to the Spring New Year ceremony at the temple, one of the official events held throughout the year.

Even after rummaging through her memories before her regression, nothing special had ever happened, so today seemed like the perfect day.

It was the ideal day to check out a temple that was quite large, a little far from the capital, and had gaps in the management of people coming and going – a good place to hide after faking her death and escaping.