Obituary [15th Revised Edition] C10

Chapter 10

Devotion was a value that came before affection.

Even now, Ray couldn’t understand his father.
That the thing his father had clung to until the very end was something as sentimental and trivial as love—he simply couldn’t comprehend it.

The woman’s song did not end.

It continued endlessly, seeming as though it would stop, yet never quite fading—looping again and again until it drained every ounce of will from him.

He would probably never understand.
Not his father. Not that woman.

Without wasting another moment, Ray turned on his heel and left.

It was the day of a nationwide conference hosted by the Conservative Party’s central office in the capital.

This time, unlike usual, not only politicians but also their families and associates were allowed to attend.

To escape the constant chatter of political discussions, Rose stepped out onto the balcony for some air.

Even back in Bolton, she had never taken much interest in politics.
Now, she found herself regularly listening to politicians of a foreign country drone on about tariffs, diplomacy, and policies.

The cold wind brushing against her cheeks felt real enough, yet everything still seemed strangely unreal.

The crowd gathered outside the venue,
the cheers that grew louder when Ray Crawford appeared than even for the Prime Minister—

Despite the talk of her damaging his reputation, his popularity seemed unaffected.
In Orturan, he was more than just a minister.

Only then did she truly grasp his position in this country—
and how significant the marriage she had entered so thoughtlessly really was.Because of that very position, people constantly approached him,
which allowed her to step away and finally catch her breath.

“Are you enjoying the convention, Lady Crawford?”

Startled, Rose turned sharply as a man suddenly stepped through the curtains, intruding on her moment of solitude.

A well-groomed, middle-aged gentleman had already approached her.

“I was worried you might be bored. These topics aren’t exactly entertaining for ladies.”

His casual tone, as though they were already acquainted, made her recognize him.

“Oh—perhaps you don’t know me yet. I’m Archibald Avery.”

“…Of course I know you. You’re a minister of Orturan.”

Archibald Avery.
A member of the Conservative Party.
The Minister of the Interior.
And the owner of the Daily Oakley Review, the newspaper Agatha despised.

In person, he appeared gentle and refined—a handsome man in his mid-forties.

“I’ve always wanted to meet you.”

“Me?”

“You may not know this, but we share a connection.”

Something about him felt… off.

Rose recalled Agatha’s repeated warnings before the event—
to be careful, as though she were heading into a battlefield.

“A connection I don’t even know about? Now I’m curious.”

“For now, let’s just say I know your father, Mr. Davies. I’ll tell you the rest once we grow closer.”

That vague answer did nothing to reassure her.

“And now that I see you in person—you’re even more beautiful.”

“…Ah. You own the newspaper that published my photograph, don’t you?”

For a brief moment, an artificial flicker of embarrassment crossed Avery’s face.

“Oh dear. You didn’t like it? Understandable—the photo didn’t do you justice.”

“It’s not that… It’s just that in Bolton, it’s rare for such private moments to be photographed.”

Especially not a candid shot taken on the street—before she had even married Ray Crawford.

The thought made him seem even more unpleasant.

“Well, your husband is quite the public figure. Everyone wants to know his every move.”

He smiled brightly, without the slightest hint of apology.

“A newspaper often has to provide what people want, regardless of personal preference. It’s not an easy job.”

As he spoke, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

“And I do hope you’ll understand that.”

“Is that so? The people I’ve met in Orturan seemed more interested in important matters than watching a woman eat fruit on the street.”

“Showing the natural, approachable side of the upper class is important too.”

He exhaled a long stream of smoke, smiling with satisfaction.

Then he pulled out another cigarette and held it out to her—

As if inviting her to take it.

Rose simply stared at it.

“Weren’t you a smoker, my lady?”

“…Me?”

At her response, Avery’s dark eyes scanned her with unsettling familiarity.

As though he already knew everything about her.

She hadn’t smoked even once since coming to Orturan.

After a brief silence, he smiled again.

“Ah, my mistake. Some ladies do enjoy smoking—I must have been confused.”

There was no way he didn’t know.

If he had obtained her pre-marriage photos, he could easily have learned that much.

So why offer it?

There was only one reason.

Malice. As smoke filled the balcony, Rose spoke calmly.

“I’ve never heard of noble ladies in Orturan smoking.”

“Those women rarely receive invitations to refined gatherings. It’s only natural you wouldn’t know.”

So, in other words—only low-class women smoke.

And yet, he said it with that same pleasant smile.

“Then you must attend such places to know that, Minister.”

“Goodness, of course not. But scandals have a way of reaching my ears without me having to dirty my shoes.”

What exactly did he want?

Just as Rose began to seriously wonder if he was trying to pick a fight, he suddenly changed the subject.

“Are you satisfied with your husband?”

An absurdly rude question.

And yet, one that required no real answer.

In Orturan, she was seen as Cinderella.
The only acceptable responses were “yes” or “more than I deserve.”

“Of course you must be. After all, he’s the finest bachelor in Orturan.”

He answered his own question without waiting.

“You should be grateful to me, you know.”

Before she could question that strange remark—

The curtain was pulled aside.

Ray Crawford stood there, the light from the hall behind him.

Rose noticed the subtle stiffness in his expression the moment he saw her.

He must have been searching for her, escaping the many people demanding his attention.

“What a pity. My chance to monopolize such a beautiful lady has come to an end.”

At Avery’s oily remark, Rose internally gagged.

She still couldn’t get used to the way people in Orturan spoke—
especially not when it came from someone this insufferable.

“You’d think newlyweds couldn’t bear to be apart.”

“As you know, you’re not the only one interested in my wife.”

With a polite smile, Ray placed an arm around her back and gently—but firmly—pulled her toward him, guiding her away from the balcony.

Even behind the formal smile, his touch carried a certain tension.

And Rose understood.

He disliked Archibald Avery.

She had observed Ray often at gatherings like this.
His expressions, the subtle differences in his tone, even the strength of his touch—

They changed depending on the person.

And with Avery,

there was unmistakable hostility.