Ariadne Peyton understood the old saying “You can’t fix a person” better than most.

She was a living example of the idea that, no matter how hard you try, it won’t work. She could hear detailed stories about such people anywhere, so she didn’t need to look far for examples.

Nevertheless, she was here because the urge to say no when everyone else said yes was unbearably strong.

As always, foolishly.

“Please grant me a divorce, Your Grace.”

Even gods who know everything sometimes play petty tricks.

They place something good into the hands of someone who doesn’t know its worth, and give garbage to the person who desperately needs something good. As if to say, “You don’t really need that, do you?”

Ariadne had once believed that the man before her was divine mischief incarnate, a cruel joke played on someone like her, who needed warmth more than anyone else.

Blinded by love, she hadn’t realized that she was clinging to garbage.

She had convinced herself that ‘good enough’ was enough and persevered, making do.

She had never intended to blame a god whose face she had never seen.

Slowly, Ariadne lifted her eyes to the man standing opposite her: Kieron Ambrose.

A man she had once loved to the point of madness.

Only now did she realize how foolish she had been.

She was exhausted from expending all her energy on rejecting what everyone else had insisted was true.

To survive, she had to let him go.

He, too, wanted her to disappear from his life.

Ariadne believed that ending things here would give them both the opportunity to meet someone better.

Yet even after nearly three months, the man still did not meet her gaze, not even for a moment.

She neither babbled awkwardly at him nor forced a smile.

Instead, she quietly lifted and put down her teacup.

“…What did you just say?”

He raised his gaze from his teacup.

Usually, no matter what she said, he looked irritated and left as soon as he had finished his tea.

But today, he seemed different somehow.

Unfortunately, she no longer felt the same way she once had.

Ariadne picked up her teacup again and calmly repeated herself in an even voice.

“I asked for a divorce, Your Grace. It seems you’ve achieved your goal.”

“….”

“You don’t need me anymore.”

A soft clink sounded as the fine porcelain cup returned to the table.

Her words settled heavily in the silence and his gaze, for some reason, sank with that same weight as he looked at her.

“If you’re doing this just to get my attention, stop here.”

At that cold remark, Ariadne let out a small, hollow laugh.

Of course. This was all it amounted to.

Her determination, her resolve, her feelings for him, they were always treated as nothing more than that.

A baseless lie to attract attention.

Had her desperate confession ever reached him even once?

Ariadne withdrew her hand from the teacup, folded both hands neatly on her lap, and lifted her head to look at him straight on.

“Why would I do something like that? It’s not as if you’d spare me a glance.”

The words sounded far too cold coming from her own mouth, but that was all.

Such coldness meant nothing to him anymore.

“It’s nothing but the truth. Unfortunately, I’m not bold enough to waste Your Grace’s precious time.”

Her heart didn’t tremble.

Not like the first time she had imagined leaving him, when entertaining such a forbidden thought had made her tremble with fear of being found out.

Ariadne Ambrose — no, Ariadne Peyton — lifted the paper envelope that she had kept hidden under her chair. She was far more composed now than in all the countless times she had rehearsed this moment in her mind.

“I’ve already completed my part. If you sign yours, I’ll submit it myself. You can decide on the alimony however you like — I won’t take anything from this house. You can throw away everything I used. In fact, you don’t even need to give me alimony. I considered asking my father to reclaim the dowry he provided for our marriage, but I’ve decided to regard it as the price for enduring three years with someone as ‘horrifying to look at’ as me.”

Tap.

The thin paper envelope landed softly on the table.

She had practiced countless times just to place something so trivial in front of him, her hands trembling each time.

Ariadne rose to her feet, her face devoid of emotion, the very expression she had rehearsed hundreds of times.

Just as she had on the day they first met, she offered him a perfectly formal bow.

“Thank you for everything. I hope Your Grace achieves all that you desire.”

This was the end.

Finally, it was over.

There was still a small place for him deep in her heart, but compared to everything she had endured, it meant nothing.

Time had extinguished a love she once thought would never die, and whatever faint longing remained would fade, too.

Fortunately, the same god who played cruel jokes also granted the mercy of forgetting.

“I’ll pack my things and leave today. I’ll stay at my family home for now, so please send the documents there.”

She would be fine.

No, she would become fine.

Ariadne had made a decision: from this point on, she would no longer allow her life to be tossed about by divine mischief.

She stood up straight, lifted her head, and faced him directly.

Perhaps because this gesture was so unlike her, his eyes widened in surprise.

She had expected him to be startled, but not this much; his reaction drew an unexpected, soft laugh from her.

He could pull that kind of face, then.

The thought made her strangely sad.

Ariadne turned to leave.

They had lived together for three years, yet she could not recall a single expression of his that wasn’t indifferent.

Swallowing down the weight of that sadness, she reached for the door.

Suddenly, a voice cut sharply through the silence and seized her attention.

“Next month is your father’s birthday. I’ll go pick him up.”

Pick him up!

Where?

Who?

Why?

With her hand still on the doorknob, Ariadne turned back.

Kieron had merely twisted his torso towards her, his blue eyes sparkling as he watched her.

“If there’s something you want, then do it. I’ve never told you not to visit your family. I’ve never told you not to do what you want. I have no idea what you lack so much that you’d hand me something like this.”

Kieron rose from his seat, the envelope containing the divorce papers held in his hand.

“You really thought I’d allow this?”

His sharp gaze struck her like a blade.

The moment the sound of tearing paper rang out unnaturally loudly, she felt the mask she had barely managed to keep in place shatter.

“I didn’t realize you were so desperate to divorce me that you’d cry over it. Did you take a lover while I wasn’t looking?”

And then she understood.

God had absolutely no intention of ending this cruel prank.

***

Of the Five Great Houses of the Empire, the Marquisate of Peyton was particularly renowned for its diplomatic and financial expertise.

For generations, they had held the positions of Minister of Finance and Minister of Foreign Affairs without relinquishing them.

Their children also held key posts across the Empire, leaving their mark on its history.

In short, House Peyton was a distinguished and illustrious noble family.

During the golden age of the House, Marquis Jared Peyton cherished his daughter, Lady Ariadne Peyton, above all others.

Like a hydrangea, Ariadne was modest and quiet, with a gentle smile that never failed to bloom.

Pure and serene, she was the pride of her three older brothers and her parents.

Perhaps because daughters were scarce in their lineage, her parents raised her with extraordinary care, as though she might be carried away by a gust of wind or extinguished by a careless touch.

Her brothers never tired of boasting about her wherever they went.

Lovely, gentle Ariadne.

Kind, endearing Ariadne.

Ariadne, Ariadne — always Ariadne.

To them, this small, soft-spoken young lady was someone who had to be protected at all costs — a child who deserved to grow up surrounded by nothing but beauty and kindness.

That was certainly how she appeared to them.

Every Peyton child possessed remarkable talent in at least one field.

The family did not raise their children with harsh discipline nor scrutinize potential marriage partners with rigid standards in pursuit of a ‘perfect bloodline’.

Nevertheless, for generations, those born with Peyton blood had become individuals of distinction, shining in politics, economics, culture and, at times, even military affairs.

For this reason, the Peyton family motto was “Learn rightly, and use it righteously”.

Consequently, every head of the household considered it their solemn duty to educate their heirs properly and guide them in the right use of their knowledge.

In this respect, nothing had changed, no matter how many generations had passed since the family was founded.

Ariadne’s eldest brother, Hern, was the commander of the Imperial First Knights.

Her second brother, Hermes, ran a major trading company within the Empire despite his young age.

Her youngest brother, Heidel, was a rising star in the Foreign Office, flawlessly managing significant diplomatic affairs.

And Ariadne, who had only just reached adulthood this year, was simply ordinary.

She was neither particularly brilliant nor physically gifted.

She possessed no holy power, nor any sharp instinct for politics or finance.

Born to intelligent, accomplished parents and surrounded by three strong, remarkable older brothers, the cherished jewel of House Peyton had entered the world with nothing more than an average appearance.

Although she grew up enveloped in her family’s unreserved love, she realized far too early that she was nothing special.

Gentle, warm-hearted and easily embarrassed — that was Ariadne.

With nothing to boast about and little knowledge to claim, this was simply the truth.

Even now, as an adult, she still found the Imperial history that her brothers claimed to have read at the age of five difficult.

No matter how hard she tried, running around the training grounds twice left her so exhausted that she couldn’t lift a sword.

The financial statements that her second brother had studied before reaching adulthood appeared to her as nothing but a jumble of incomprehensible symbols — she couldn’t make sense of any of it.

Despite her family’s affection and her brothers’ gentle treatment once they realized how she felt, she could never shake the sense that she was slightly out of place.

So she threw herself into bride training.

If her own abilities were of no use to her family, she believed that she should at least marry well and support them in that way.

She had always been the kind of person who expected to marry whoever her father chose, and who dreamed of blending in and living quietly among ordinary people.

The House of Peyton was far too exceptional, and she was far too ordinary.

This was why she tried so hard to hide from her family how deeply she loved Orpheo Sonnet, the capital’s most celebrated poet.

For someone ordinary, a love as extraordinary as that written about by Orpheo would never be theirs.

Even if it did, it would never be meant for her.

Living a life so different from everyone else’s, Ariadne just wanted to find her own place as soon as possible.

Yes, that was how it had been.

At least until she met Kieron Ambrose, the man who would shake her entire life to its core.