It was a mess.

Kieron stared at the desk cluttered with meaningless documents and could only think the same thing: Everything—absolutely everything—was a mess.

“So? You’re telling me nothing came out of it?”

Despite the rage he had unleashed, including confining his own wife, the investigation had yielded nothing for days.

Every document and report said the same thing: that Ariadne and Jade Derayan were simply friends. There was not a shred of evidence to suggest an affair.

“Yes, young Lord Derayan has only recently returned from his long studies abroad. Since my lady mostly visited the busy districts of the capital, many people saw her.”

“She was always accompanied by her maid and sometimes by the coachman following behind. No one ever reported seeing another man.”

From everything Herald had uncovered, Ariadne was nothing more than an ordinary noblewoman who enjoyed shopping with her attendants while her husband was away.

The only man ever present was the coachman, and even then she never set foot anywhere but the city’s busiest streets.

It was maddening.

“Then when exactly would she have met him to arrange some sort of secret meeting?”

“Your Grace, do you recall when my lady was unwell? The young lord visited and spoke with her maid before leaving. Perhaps it was then.”

“He returned from abroad barely a moment ago, and he was already visiting noblewomen?”

When Kieron snapped the question, Herald let out a faint sigh. After repeating the same investigation for days, he seemed to have reached his own quiet conclusion.

“…Your Grace. It’s possible he simply wanted to see a friend he hadn’t seen in a long time.”

A friend. That damned word again. How could a man and a woman possibly remain just friends?

“So you’re saying I’m being stubborn for no reason?”

“That’s not what I meant…”

“Herald Jin. If you have something to say, then say it properly. Stop circling around it.”

Kieron fixed his sharp gaze on his aide.

He knew perfectly well what Herald and Derrick, who had been lingering outside his office for days, silently observing him, wanted to say.

The duchess had done nothing wrong. If anyone was at fault, it was him, Your Grace, for making such outrageous accusations without proof, not her.

Although none of them dared say it aloud, he knew what everyone on the estate believed: Not just Herald and Derrick, everyone thought he had gone too far.

Yet his wife, locked away in her room, was reportedly healthier now than before.

Her maid, who had initially been distraught, was also said to be doing well. Other than her daily worry for her mistress, she was in perfectly normal condition.

The only one who seemed to be unravelling was Kieron Ambrose himself.

He was the one growing thin.

He was the one who couldn’t eat.

He was the one who couldn’t sleep.

It was all down to him.

He had never imagined that something born from a single doubt could drag on for so long. He just wanted to confirm it.

If Ariadne was seeing someone else, he needed to know. If there was another problem, he needed to know that, too. But the truth was merciless.

The problem wasn’t her.

It was him.

No matter how thoroughly he searched, he couldn’t find even the faintest trace of another man — not even a shadow.

In the end, everything pointed to one undeniable truth: This, too, was his fault.

“Find something. Anything. At the very least, figure out why she went out so often.”

“That is because Your Grace was seldom at home, so—”

“So it’s my fault again, is that what you’re saying?”

But he couldn’t accept it.

What had he done wrong?

He had met all the conditions her father had set before the wedding.

If he gained anything from the union, he always made sure to pay the proper price for it.

Whenever she tried to push herself too hard, he stopped her; he only ever wanted to protect her fragile health.

He worked tirelessly to ensure that a noblewoman raised in comfort would never experience financial hardship and that her allowance would always be sufficient.

So what had he done wrong?

Where had he failed?

Kieron pressed a hand to his forehead, his teeth grinding together as the question tore at him.

“So this marriage itself was a mistake, is that it?”

“Your Grace, that’s not what I meant. What matters isn’t the marriage itself, but what comes after.”

“Exactly.”

Nobody said anything incorrect.

All of the suggestions were reasonable: be kind to your wife, share meals with her, and spend time together. None of them were things he could dismiss as nonsense.

Even now, Herald was right.

What mattered wasn’t the marriage itself, but what came after, because that shapes the future.

He knew that wasn’t wrong, but—

“You’re trying to say that everything happening now is because I did something wrong after the marriage, aren’t you, Herald? Isn’t that what you mean?”

Kieron was a man who had lived his entire life with desperate resolve. It was the only way he could survive; it was his sole means of breathing.

No one had ever cared about the tears or complaints of a poor orphaned boy.

Consequently, he grew up painfully sensitive — almost terrified — of being told he was wrong.

He could not be wrong.

If he made even one mistake, everything he had built could collapse and he might lose everything he had gained.

Of course, Derrick, who had known him for years, was well aware of this. But still…

“Your Grace. A person can make mistakes in things no one ever taught them.”

All Herald wanted was for him to accept that simple truth: To admit that he might look clumsy simply because he was doing it for the first time.

If he could do that, perhaps their master could hold onto my lady a little longer. The very woman who now seemed ready to let everything go.

That was all the estate hoped for: For their master to find even a small measure of peace.

But a man who had gone his entire life never knowing he was wrong was struggling to accept that fact now. The conversation had been circling the same point for a while, and Herald let out a long sigh.

“Your Grace… why not speak with my lady directly?”

“…And what exactly am I supposed to talk about with her?”

In the end, the only solution was conversation.

Herald opened his mouth cautiously, facing a master who looked deeply displeased.

“There may be misunderstandings between the two of you. Or things that are difficult to grasp. After all, the two of you came from entirely different worlds.”

The only way forward was to meet regularly and talk, slowly unravelling things together.

That was Herald’s calm conclusion: two people who had lived entirely different lives.

While it was true that understanding each other would take time, Kieron refused to believe that this made it an inevitable process.

He had already chosen, on more than one occasion, to leave her alone instead of trying to understand her. And yet, he still couldn’t stop thinking about her. Perhaps that was his fatal mistake.

Kieron shook his head firmly.

“Different lives or not, I don’t believe she’ll ever understand me. And I have no desire for her to.”

Understanding was difficult even among people who shared the same upbringing and values.

He remembered his parents all too clearly: two people who had married for political reasons and whose families were equal in every way.

His father had spent his entire life yearning for the approval of the Council and of his own father.
His mother had spent hers yearning for even a single sign of recognition from her husband.

Despite living side by side in the same circumstances, the problems they faced and the miserable end they reached were no different to those of any other mismatched couple.

He believed that Ariadne would one day fall silent, too, if left alone. ust as his mother had eventually given up trying to be seen by his father.

“If there are no leads, end the investigation here. There’s no need to look into anything else.”

Above all, Kieron knew better than anyone how destructive it was to keep digging and prying. He had witnessed the consequences firsthand.

His mother withered under his father’s relentless suspicion, while his father drowned his sorrows in alcohol every night, unable to face up to his actions.

Neither of them ever received even a shred of the recognition they craved so desperately. Then, one quiet evening, they were both killed in a carriage accident.

Yet even then, Kieron’s father could not let go of whatever it was he had been clinging to.

His mother died first.

His father survived a little longer, only to deteriorate and then follow her soon after. As he took his final breath, he didn’t thank the woman who had, in a sense, saved his life by dying first.

Instead, he resented her.

For being foolish. For holding onto him until the very end. Not for her devotion, but for her desperation.

Kieron had only been ten years old. His parents would never know how deeply wounded he was by that moment, and they didn’t need to.

If he wanted to avoid ending up like them, he had to sever all ties before things reached that point.

Otherwise, people would keep circling him, offering ‘help’ in the form of unwanted and unasked-for opinions.

“Release her from confinement. Her maid as well. From now on, she doesn’t need to report who she meets or where she goes.”

Kieron resolved to put an end to this wretched situation by abandoning the investigation into Ariadne once and for all.

If he wanted to avoid repeating his parents’ mistakes and the relentless interference of others, then silence was the wiser choice.

Closing his eyes and ears and focusing solely on his duties was the safer path.

He would look into her no more.

He would concern himself with her no more.

This was the fourth time he had made this decision, and each time it felt more hollow, especially for a man who despised taking back his own words.