Even If This Is What It Takes
“This is how badly I want your forgiveness.”
In Kallen’s eyes, only clear, unclouded sincerity pooled.
“Of course, I don’t believe something like this could ever truly atone for the sins of my past. I simply hope that even a little of Your Ladyship’s resentment might be eased.”
“Cut the crap.”
Canna slammed the box onto the table as if discarding trash.
“Kallen, I have no intention of getting along with you. Don’t you dare force forgiveness on me.”
“But we will have to continue living together.”
Continue living together? What a joke.
‘In a month, I won’t even be here anymore.’
It was almost comical how confidently he spoke without knowing that.
“I would never dream of seeking forgiveness with mere words. I want to pay the full price for my crimes.”
“How touching. The heavens themselves must be moved.”
Canna muttered sarcastically.
At this rate, she was starting to feel like the villain for refusing to forgive him.
“You said you wanted to pay for your sins? Then consider the way I deceived and used you the other day as payment enough.”
“Yet even after that, you still could not forgive me. The price was insufficient. Therefore, please punish me until you are satisfied.”
“I have no desire to do so.”
“Your Ladyship, I beg you.”
Irritation surged through her in an instant. Did this bastard not understand human speech?
She had said no. She had clearly said she didn’t want to!
‘Does my word mean nothing to him?’
Damn forgiveness. Damn atonement.
She couldn’t care less about any of it, yet Kallen kept craving and craving.
He never once considered her feelings, her will—none of it.
What mattered had always been Kallen’s wishes alone.
When he hated her, she had to suffer. When he wanted reconciliation, she was expected to try to forgive.
Kallen Addis had not changed at all from the past. Not one bit.
Canna quietly stared at the face of the man who had lived his entire life with pure selfishness. Then a thought suddenly occurred to her.
She hated him enough to want to kill him—so why shouldn’t she hit him?
Since they would be parting forever soon anyway, wasn’t this much venting acceptable?
“Fine. If that’s your wish, I’ll grant it.”
But this wasn’t atonement. It was nothing more than an outlet for her pure rage.
“Take off your shirt.”
Even so, she didn’t think she could do it while fully sober, so Canna poured herself a glass of whiskey and downed it in one go.
In the meantime, Kallen had already removed his shirt and risen to his feet.
“Face the wall.”
Kallen placed his hands against the wall and leaned into it.
Canna glared at his broad shoulders and the tightly corded muscles of his back as if she wanted to tear them apart.
‘Damn it.’
She bit her lip, gripping the whip tightly.
Now that the moment had come, she hesitated.
Inflicting physical harm on someone with her own hands was not an easy thing to do.
If she struck him, Kallen would be satisfied. With every lash, his guilt would lessen.
And someday, he would surely turn on her and demand, ‘I’ve gone this far—why won’t you forgive me?’ Just like he had in the underground laboratory the other day.
When she thought of that, her own position felt endlessly pathetic.
If she stayed in this house any longer, even the right to refuse forgiveness would be stolen from her.
‘It’s fine. I’ll be leaving this place soon.’
Therefore, he would never receive forgiveness. Not ever.
This, too, was not a true punishment. Kallen was not paying for his sins. It was merely a fleeting act of venting her anger.
Crack!
The whip lashed across his back, leaving a vivid red welt on his skin.
Crack! Crack! Crack! She struck him with all her strength in rapid succession, yet Kallen’s shoulders did not even tremble.
Canna frowned. She had thought beating Kallen would make her feel better, but instead she only felt more disgusted.
“Is that enough? Do you feel like you’ve paid for your sins now?”
“No.”
“What?”
“May I speak honestly?”
In contrast, Kallen’s voice was perfectly composed.
“The whip I gave you is a lethal weapon. It is designed to tear flesh and shatter bone.”
A lethal weapon? This thing?
“Yet judging by how mild the pain seems, it appears you have only left surface scratches.”
“……”
“To be honest, it doesn’t hurt much at all. Please strike me harder.”
But Canna had completely lost the will to continue.
If she left a fatal wound on Kallen’s body…
If she damaged his spine by mistake, he could become paralyzed from the waist down.
And if that caused her to feel guilt? That was exactly what Kallen wanted.
‘I’d rather die.’
Canna hurled the whip into the fireplace.
“Your Ladyship, why have you stopped?”
“It’s boring. It only made me feel worse.”
She snatched up the clothes he had laid on the sofa and threw them at him.
“Get out.”
“Your Ladyship.”
“You’re not leaving? Then should I leave instead?”
“……”
Kallen could no longer press the issue. He quietly left the room.
Perhaps because of that utterly ridiculous experience, Canna—now thoroughly sickened—poured herself another glass of whiskey.
‘Just hold on a little longer. Then it will all be over.’
Soon, everything would end.
Before long, she would part ways with this damned Addis family forever.
The next day, the construction of the alchemy laboratory was finally completed. Canna immediately began her experiments.
“Will this really work…?”
Canna was drawing a complex pattern on a sheet of paper the size of her palm.
Inside a large circle, she drew a hexagon and then densely filled it with strange characters she herself did not recognize.
The ink she used was no ordinary ink either. It was made by melting mana stones and mixing in several drops of her own blood.
‘It doesn’t seem like it’ll work.’
According to the book, alchemy was not a power of this world.
In other words, it was knowledge from another world.
And these patterns were said to be pathways that drew power from that other realm.
‘Like a magic circle that summons power? I guess I can think of it that way?’
It seemed that ordinary people of ‘this place’ could not use it. Only special cases like Canna or Seon-hui—beings referred to as ‘foreign substances’—could wield it.
So this ancient alchemy book sat in the Great Temple like a useless folding screen the entire time. It only began to be properly used once it fell into my hands.
“Does this really work?”
After finishing the pattern, Canna stared at the paper with distrustful eyes.
The book claimed that if she rubbed her blood onto this pattern, she could turn anything into gold.
‘There’s no way that’s possible.’
It felt like she was being scammed.
Still, she decided to give it a try. She placed a fountain pen on top of the paper.
Then she pricked the tip of her finger with a needle, drew blood, and carefully smeared it across the pattern.
“Ah!”
In the next instant, Canna doubted her own eyes. Black smoke began rising from the pattern!
And it looked exactly like…
‘The Black Fog?’
A moment later, when the black smoke dissipated, the fountain pen was gleaming a brilliant golden color.
It wasn’t merely gold-colored.
It was gold. Real gold.
“It really turned into gold.”
The moment she realized it, a strangely practical sense of relief washed over her first.
This was enough.
From now on, she could live the rest of her life without ever worrying about money!
Excited beyond measure, Canna flipped through the book.
‘And this is only the most basic technique.’
Creating gold was merely the foundation. The book contained even more astonishing and shocking knowledge.
There were patterns that could not only transform matter into different properties but also create elements such as fire and water.
There were even techniques for creating living dolls that were nearly indistinguishable from real humans.
As Canna read that section, a chill ran down her spine.
Transforming matter, creating it, and even making something almost human.
In Canna’s eyes, ancient alchemy was no different from the domain of the gods.
‘I need to cherish my blood. I mustn’t shed it recklessly.’
The moment that thought crossed her mind, a memory flashed through her.
The ceremony to break her holy marriage.
The moment she had been forced to offer her blood to enter the temple.
‘That must never happen again.’
Who knew what might occur?
Some alchemy-obsessed madman might steal her blood and commit atrocities with it.
Canna made a firm resolution: from now on, she would never allow her blood to be taken under any circumstances.
‘But there are torn pages scattered throughout the book.’
Where had those torn sections gone?
Canna prayed desperately that they had not fallen into the hands of a psychopath.
It was then.
“My lady, His Highness Prince Argon has come to visit.”
Argon?
Canna quickly closed the book. She slipped the paper with the drawn pattern inside it and answered.
“Show him to the drawing room. I’ll be there shortly.”
“I apologize, Your Grace.”
Sylvien quietly stared at the butler. The butler’s face had gone deathly pale.
“Apologize? I seem to be hearing that word quite often lately.”
“I have no excuse.”
“Indeed, you don’t. To make such a basic mistake.”
Sylvien could not smile. The butler had committed an error that was impossible to laugh off.
“You’re saying you omitted one of the documents required for the divorce?”
He let out a short, dry laugh.
“Did the divorce between Valentino and Addis appear that trivial to you?”
“That is not what I meant…”
The butler tried to offer an excuse but closed his mouth.
How could he have made such a mistake? He had left out one of the documents necessary for the divorce and delivered the rest!
As the head of a great noble house, Sylvien had delegated such trivial tasks to his employees.
Things like visiting the administrative office to collect the documents required for divorce.
The butler had received the documents from the office and passed them to Sylvien, who then distributed them to Canna.
Therefore, from Canna’s perspective, it looked as though Sylvien had mishandled the matter.
Sylvien found the situation incredibly awkward. Extremely so.
“At this rate, won’t the Addis Duke’s daughter misunderstand? She might think I’m playing petty tricks because I don’t want the divorce.”
“The administrative office has already confirmed that they were the ones who omitted the document. They assured us that it will not cause any issues with Your Graces’ divorce.”
“They had better.”
The butler let out a sigh of relief.
“Then I shall head to the Addis residence immediately. I will obtain the young lady’s signature and—”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Sylvien stood up. As he put on the outer coat that had been draped over his chair, he said,
“I can no longer entrust tasks to you. I will handle this matter personally.”
“Pardon?”
“It means you are dismissed.”
Sylvien said, pressing his gentleman’s hat firmly onto his head.
His tone was so gentle that the butler did not immediately understand.
But soon he let out a sigh and bowed his head. Indeed, anyone would see this as grounds for dismissal.
“It has been an honor to serve you all this time, Your Grace.”
A short while later, Sylvien tucked the documents into his coat, climbed into the carriage, and ordered the coachman,
“To the Addis residence.”