HPCM 02

Chapter : 02

Strictly speaking, the more surprising thing was that Charlotte had come to love Alfonso.

Charlotte was someone who regarded everyone—regardless of age or gender—merely as tools to be used.

Some people spat that she was cruel, others that she was heartlessly cold. But what could she do about it?

She had been born and raised in Noah, a merciless family that would strip even its own blood relatives of the family name and cast them out if they proved unfit. That was the only way she had ever learned to live.

“Not exactly a lovable personality.”

Charlotte calmly acknowledged her own nature.

That was why, even after she found herself helplessly in love with Alfonso, she had never once wished to be loved by him in return.

Even when Alfonso frowned whenever he saw her.

Even when he openly told her he disliked her.

Even when she realized that he had fallen in love with someone else.

“Adeline Laveruse, was it?”

The woman Alfonso loved.

Charlotte remembered her face vividly.

A woman with wheat-colored short hair, whose dimples sank deeply whenever she smiled.

With her sharp features and long red hair, Charlotte shared not even the same hair length with her.

“She was the fourth woman Alfonso had marriage talks with, if I remember correctly.”

After ruining that marriage negotiation, Charlotte had spread a scandal and forced him to marry her instead—so she was probably right.

After the marriage, Alfonso began speaking more with Adeline because of the jewel business run by her family, the Laveruse family. Gradually, the two were seen together more and more often.

Charlotte did not know the details of why they met so frequently.

The only thing that remained in her memory was how Alfonso and that woman looked strolling through the garden—how they seemed to suit each other far better than he ever did with his own wife.

So one day, Charlotte went directly to Alfonso’s office and asked.

“Looks like things are going well, Alfonso.”

“…I’m not sure what you mean.”

“That woman.”

Alfonso’s lips pressed into a straight line at Charlotte’s unbothered continuation.

“…Do you love her?”

There was no need to clarify who “that woman” meant.

The moment he heard it, Alfonso’s face twisted.

As if he had just heard something terribly painful and distressing.

“…What is the intention behind asking that right now?”

“I’m curious. Whether you love her.”

“And if I say I do? Will you spread another scandal? Like you did to me?”

“I only asked a question. I don’t understand why you’re angry.”

“She has nothing to do with any of this. Do not touch her.”

“Rather than ‘someone unrelated,’ wouldn’t ‘someone you love’ be the more accurate expression? Isn’t that right?”

“Charlotte.”

Alfonso gritted his teeth, his face filled with restrained anger, as if telling her to stop.

But in the end, he never once denied it.

He stared at Charlotte as though she were something dreadful.

Then, with a pained voice, he said:

“…Please stop making me unhappy.”

Was there any confession more devastating than that?

If possible, she wanted to ask him.

‘Am I the one who made you unhappy?’

But she could not bring herself to say the words aloud.

She was afraid of hearing the answer. Afraid of having to acknowledge the contradiction of loving someone she had already made miserable.

That day, Charlotte decided to divorce Alfonso.

It wasn’t out of anger.

She simply wanted to correct what had gone wrong—even if it was late.

And she wanted to wish for Alfonso’s happiness.

“If I divorce Alfonso, everything will return to the way it was.”

He would no longer be unhappy.

He could marry the woman he loved.

Thinking that made her feel as though her heart was being torn apart, but if Alfonso could become happy because of it, she thought she could endure it.

“It was Father who ordered my marriage to Alfonso.”

Fortunately, her father Dominic had died during those three years, and her half-brother Quincy, who adored Charlotte dearly, had become the head of the family.

So there should be no major issue with getting a divorce.

Charlotte sent Quincy a letter asking him to arrange the divorce.

After sending it, she even felt strangely relieved.

Yes. She truly had.

Until fifteen days later.

Until Alfonso died after being poisoned with an unidentified toxin.

* * *

“I’m sorry to say this, but your husband has no chance of survival.”

“We tried to find the mastermind behind the suspect, but he committed suicide before interrogation. At this rate, we won’t be able to identify the culprit…”

An unknown poison.

A suspect who killed himself before interrogation.

And Alfonso, who had already departed before anything could be done.

Charlotte’s hands trembled as she lifted the lid of the angular coffin.

It was not because she feared seeing her dead husband.

It was because the method was far too familiar.

But the moment she saw her husband lying peacefully inside the coffin—

“…Ah.”

Charlotte could no longer deny anything.

Anyone else might not recognize it.

But Charlotte, who had been born and raised in Noah, could not fail to recognize this method.

It was Noah that had killed Alfonso.

The moment Charlotte realized this, she rushed to Noah.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as her dry lips parted.

“…Why did you kill him?”

A burning rage flared up from the pit of her stomach.

“Why? Was he that threatening? Did he challenge our family? Why? What reason did you have?”

She clung to that hope like grasping at straw.

Quincy was the only family Charlotte loved, so she tried desperately to believe it.

There must have been some justifiable reason.

“I wrote it in the letter. That I love Alfonso. I said that….”

Why did he have to die?

Even though he always held her hand when she stepped down from a carriage, despite coldly saying he disliked her.

Even when everyone called her a villainess to her face, he had never once used that word for her.

She had never even dared to smile properly in front of him, afraid he might notice her feelings.

Why… why?

“You said you wanted a divorce, Charlotte.”

“…What?”

“If you simply divorce, there would be issues like alimony and other complications. Killing him and taking Edouard as well makes it simple.”

“…For such a trivial reason?”

“Trivial? This is the Noah way. You should know that well.”

“I… said I loved him. I said I loved him….”

“Think rationally, Charlotte. This was for your sake. I know you loved him, but—”

“If you knew that, then you shouldn’t have done it.”

Charlotte spat out the words.

Her venomous eyes shot toward Quincy like a serpent’s gaze.

They were the eyes of someone standing at the edge of a cliff.

“You knew. You knew everything and killed him anyway! And you still dare say it was for me? It wasn’t for me—it was for the family!”

How could it be possible?

How could the family she had devoted her entire life to kill her husband?

She had written it in the letter so many times—that she loved him deeply.

The tear tracks running down her cheeks burned like they had been scorched.

Each drop felt as though it wrung her very lifeblood from her.

Was crying always this painful?

Was someone’s death always this horrifying?

She wished the thing flowing from her face was blood instead of tears.

Then at least only she would suffer.

She wished it had been her who died instead.

Then Alfonso would still be breathing somewhere in this world.

If only she had never met Alfonso.

If only she had never married him.

Then he would still be alive…

Feeling the tears streaming down her face like rain against a window, Charlotte bit her lip hard.

“Drop dead, Quincy.”

For the first time in her life—despite always being called a villainess for carrying Noah’s infamous reputation—Charlotte resented her own blood.

Every moment she had ever been proud of her family now felt like a sin.

Sometimes love itself becomes a tragedy.

The whisper engraved into her mind echoed again and again.

My love killed him.

That day, Charlotte cried until her voice gave out.

She preserved Alfonso’s corpse in ice and wandered across the continent searching for a way to bring him back to life.

Even when her red hair—once more beautiful than autumn leaves—turned completely white.

Even when her hands, once perfectly cared for down to the nails, became ruined.

Charlotte did not stop.

Because every time she closed her eyes, the sin she had committed strangled her breath.

—Please stop making me unhappy.

The voice of the man who had taught her love was still so clear.

Yet the man himself was gone.

Charlotte could not stop.

And finally—

“To revive a human life requires a very great price, madam.”

She found the answer.