Rumors of Remarriage
Sylvien narrowed his eyes. He rang the bell to summon the butler.
“Did you call for me, Your Grace?”
“I’m not sure when this vulgar rag found its way onto my desk.”
ASLAN SCANDAL
The butler flinched violently at the name of the paper. Aslan Scandal was a low-class tabloid notorious for spinning uncertain gossip into sensational headlines.
“Forgive me, Your Grace. It was my mistake.”
“A mistake,” Sylvien repeated, his voice laced with dark amusement.
“For the butler of House Valentino to commit such an error… I find myself questioning my own judgment as his employer.”
The butler’s heart plummeted. In over ten years of service, Sylvien had rarely rebuked him so harshly.
He dropped to his knees at once.
“Please forgive me, Duke. I swear it will never happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.”
Fortunately, Sylvien did not pursue the matter further. He waved a hand.
“Rise.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Countess Josephine Elvester sent a letter, I believe?”
“Yes, that is…” The butler stood awkwardly, hesitating. “She requested an increase in her maintenance allowance.”
“Maintenance allowance?”
The corner of Sylvien’s mouth curled as though the words themselves were ridiculous.
“Maintenance allowance…”
He laced his fingers together and sank into thought.
“How much are we currently providing?”
“Two thousand gold, Your Grace.”
“My, she must be terribly inconvenienced. In the old days she would have spent that sum in an hour or two.”
It was true. Two thousand gold would have barely covered the cost of a single dress in Josephine’s former life.
Yet Sylvien’s next words were ice.
“Reduce it.”
“Pardon?”
“One-third of the current amount should suffice.”
The butler was speechless. One-third? That was scarcely more than a commoner’s living expenses. A woman who had wallowed in every luxury imaginable could never survive on such a pittance.
“…Understood.”
Still, the butler offered no objection. Once he had withdrawn, Sylvien returned to his documents.
Several hours later, fatigue finally overtook him. He set down his pen and massaged his temples.
That was when the newspaper caught his eye once more.
A dry laugh escaped Sylvien’s lips.
In a sudden impulse he snatched the paper and hurled it into the fireplace. The violent motion was entirely unlike him.
The flames roared as they devoured the pages. Sylvien watched the blaze in silence. When the last scrap had turned to ash, he reached a quiet conclusion.
Whether she remarried or not was none of his concern.
He felt not the slightest interest.
Even as he told himself this, a memory from not long ago surfaced. The moment just before the divorce ceremony.
For a fleeting second, he had not wanted to let her go. An unfamiliar anxiety had gripped him.
It must have been the reluctance to let his familiar life change. The aversion to breaking free of long-held habits.
“I’m so sorry. I bumped into the lady and lost my balance.”
“You won’t be able to reach your back. Allow me to wipe it for you.”
Now that he thought about it, where had he put that handkerchief?
He could not remember.
He had not thrown it away, so it must still be somewhere. A completely useless keepsake.
I should find it and dispose of it.
Sylvien covered his face with both hands and rubbed his temples. The fatigue felt heavier than usual today.
Perhaps that was why his head throbbed mercilessly.
That night, Sylvien suffered from a terrible headache.
It lasted a very long time.
“Pardon?”
Canna doubted her own ears.
“Your Majesty, what exactly are you suggesting?”
“Shouldn’t you begin looking for a new match? You may have failed once at marriage, but you are far too young to let that be the end of it.”
The Empress smiled benevolently as she set down her teacup.
“I believe Crescent would make you an excellent husband.”
“…”
“He seems to think very highly of you as well.”
A heavy silence fell. Canna could not find a single word to answer.
This woman has lost her mind.
She barely maintained a calm expression, but inside she was burning with fury.
Of course she was.
The Empress had just suggested she remarry her son—Crescent—and not even as legal wife, but as a concubine.
“It is a generous offer, Your Majesty, however…”
Canna chose her words carefully, swallowing the curses that threatened to spill out.
“I have not yet healed from the pain of my broken marriage. As you know, I harbored feelings for the Duke of Valentino for a very long time…”
“Sometimes a new encounter is the best medicine of all.”
The Empress cut her off with a smile that never reached her eyes.
“Crescent takes after me. He is kind. He will gently soothe the wounds the Duke’s daughter has suffered.”
What is this poisonous spider even saying?
Canna was almost impressed by the thickness of the Empress’s skin. The same woman who had tried to poison her own daughter now dared to call herself kind.
“I am sorry, Your Majesty.”
At Canna’s firm refusal, the Empress’s eyes chilled.
“Are you rejecting my son?”
How dare a thing like you?
The Empress swallowed the words. Canna was still a useful asset. She could not treat her carelessly.
She should be grateful to be offered even a concubine’s seat after her divorce!
Crescent was the prince who would become the next emperor. To be his concubine should be considered an honor!
The next empress must come from the Mercy family.
She would make her own niece empress and install Canna as imperial noble consort. It was a flawless plan.
“I apologize, Your Majesty. I will pretend I never heard this.”
Canna refused once more with absolute finality and took her leave. Left alone, the Empress’s rage boiled over.
She dares refuse my son?
At that moment, her gaze fell on the crumpled newspaper.
Could the rumor between her and Argon actually be true?
No. That must never happen. Absolutely not.
Despite the divorce, Canna’s position had grown astonishingly solid. She enjoyed Kallen Addis’s full support, and even Alexandro Addis—who famously despised parties—had escorted her.
The current Canna can move the entire Addis family.
If such a woman were to join hands with Argon?
If the Duke of Addis’s house were to back Argon?
No. That must never be allowed!
She would rather die than witness such a thing.
The Empress slammed her fist on the desk.
Canna, now entangled in scandal with Argon, had become a lethal threat. She wanted to have her assassinated, but she was dependent on the woman’s medicine. Canna could not be removed.
Then I will drag her down so far that no family will accept her in marriage. After that, she will gratefully accept the position of Crescent’s concubine.
What was the most effective way to ruin a noblewoman’s reputation beyond repair?
The Empress quickly settled on the cruelest and most certain method.
For example, being kidnapped by street thugs and violated.
Once such a rumor spread, Canna would never be able to marry Argon or anyone else.
Of course, bringing such filth into Crescent’s bed is distasteful…
But Canna was dangerous and useful in equal measure. She would break both her legs if necessary to make the woman hers.
The Empress called for her attendant.
“Send an invitation to Duchess Chloe Addis.”
Chloe Addis, Canna’s stepmother, would surely help her.
The Empress smiled with satisfaction.
She knew Canna was making medicine for her, and once she had been pathetically grateful for it…
But when she thought about it, that was only natural.
Devoting one’s heart and soul to the imperial family was simply the duty of a noble.
The fact that Canna had dared refuse the generous offer to become her son’s concubine was utterly insolent.
Ungrateful wench.
A week had passed since Princess Yoanna’s departure.
Right before she left, Canna had formed a secret agreement with her.
And the alchemy laboratory should be completed tomorrow.
It was so close now. Canna’s heart raced.
I can finally leave the Addis family. I can leave the Aslan Empire.
With that thought, the Empress’s insane proposal flew from her mind.
“Sister, are you still awake?”
The door burst open and Kallen entered. Canna, who had been reading an ancient alchemy tome, quickly closed the cover.
“How rude, Kallen. It seems you need to relearn your manners.”
“I apologize. I simply could not wait another moment to see you.”
Canna frowned.
In Kallen’s arms were a gift box and an enormous bouquet of roses. The words that left his mouth were sickeningly sweet.
“I don’t need them.”
“You will.”
Kallen smiled gently and offered the roses first. That was when Canna noticed his hand—covered in countless small cuts.
“I picked them myself from the garden and arranged the bouquet.”
Kallen spoke as if the wounds were something to be proud of.
“I injured myself while making it. Well? Are you pleased?”
Is he insane? Canna did not hide her contempt.
“Why would I be pleased?”
“Because you hate me, don’t you? I thought you would enjoy seeing me in pain.”
He spoke as though it were the most natural thing in the world and sat down across from her.
“You do hate me, Sister.”
Canna did not deny it. Kallen gave a bitter smile.
“But I love you.”
Canna fought down a wave of nausea.
Now—after it had been revealed they shared not a drop of blood—he was speaking of familial love. The words were revolting.
Kallen leaned forward while still seated, staring intently at her distorted expression as if savoring it. His low, sunken voice flowed out.
“I love you.”
She really felt like she might vomit.
“Stop it. I feel sick.”
“I disgust you, don’t I?”
“You know it well.”
“That’s understandable. Even I think the old me was utterly worthless.”
Kallen spoke softly and slowly straightened his back. He stroked the gift box resting on his knee.
“So I thought about it. How can I earn your forgiveness? And I reached a conclusion. If I suffer as much as you suffered, wouldn’t that be fair?”
He held the box out to her.
“You may inflict whatever punishment you wish upon me.”
“What are you…?”
“Of course, I believe I have already been punished enough mentally. But since you cannot see that pain with your eyes, it probably doesn’t satisfy you.”
With a grimace, Canna accepted the box. Kallen’s face glowed with a strange, feverish heat.
“But if the pain is visible, perhaps your heart will finally be at ease?”
Canna opened the box. Her breath caught.
“Do you like it?”
Kallen whispered quietly.
“You may punish me with it until your anger is completely gone.”
Inside the box lay a whip.
While she remained speechless, Kallen undid the buttons of his jacket with a casual flick. When he removed it, the shirt clinging to his firm torso was revealed.
“Shall we begin right now?”
“Begin what, exactly?”
Her hands were shaking from sheer disbelief.
Canna spat out the words with biting venom.
“You’ve completely lost your mind. You’re insane.”